ren say—that the second peak in the Caucasus ought not to be climbed by an unroped party. Would it not be contrary to all the canons laid down for the guidance of youth and innocence in the Badminton and All England series? Might it not even be regarded as savouring of insult to our peak? I mildly suggested these fears to Zurfluh. He asked me whether I would come up for the rope or whether he should send the rope down to me. For some hidden reason a broad grin illuminated his face as he strongly recommended the former course, pointing out that the ledge on which I was huddled was not a convenient place for roping operations. Despite this advice I unhesitatingly decided on the latter alternative, and when the rope came down, successfully grappled with the difficulty of putting it on. And now a strange phenomena must be recorded: a moment earlier I could have sworn before any court—and been glad to do it, provided the court was, as courts usually are, on level ground—that the cliff in front was absolutely perpendicular. Yet no sooner was the rope firmly attached than the cliff tilted backwards till it barely exceeded a beggarly sixty degrees!
We were now able to get round the square corner of the peak on to the face fronting the lower summit, and could look across to the ice-swept cliffs of Koshtantau. The gap between the two peaks was well below us—indeed, we were almost
