level with the lower summit. I had always had misgivings about this section of the ascent, and it was, therefore, with no small delight that I perceived a long crack up which a way could almost certainly be forced. Apart, however, from the accident of this crack or fault, I am not sure this wall could be ascended. With our elbows and backs against one side and our knees against the other, we worked our way quickly upwards. The lower peak sank rapidly, and the appearance of distant snows above its crest was hailed with triumphant shouts. Then Zurfluh dived into a dark hole behind a stone that had wedged itself in our narrow path, and desperate were the wriggles and squeezings necessary to push his body through the narrow aperture. Then we had to quit the crack for a yard or two and scramble up a great slab at its side. Once more we got back into our crack and on and ever upwards till at length we emerged on the ridge. On the ridge do I say? No; on the very summit itself. Every peak in Europe, Elbruz alone excepted, was below us, and from our watch-tower of 17,054 feet we gazed at the rolling world. Turning to the left, a few steps brought me to the culminating point, and I sat down on its shattered crest. Huge clouds were by now wrapping Shkara in an ever darkening mantle, and the long ridge of Janga was buried in dense, matted banks of vapour white and brilliant above, but dark and evil along their ever lowering
