reached firm rock, which, though very steep, offered good hold and plenty of it. Burgener dashed up at a furious pace. Suddenly a splinter of rock caught his coat, and an agonised yell told us that his pipe, his faithful companion in many a hard-fought climb, and the gift of his most trusted Herr, had been jerked out of his pocket and had plunged down to the Matterhorn glacier.
Soon afterwards we regained the ridge, and, without halting, followed it to the point where it not merely becomes perpendicular, but actually overhangs.[1] We had now to traverse to our right on to the great western face of the mountain, Burgener anxiously scanned the huge cliff and then gripped my hand and exclaimed, "The pipe is avenged, we are on the summit," which I took to mean that we should be there sometime.
The men began the construction of a stone man, whilst I utilised the halt in a diligent search for a diminutive chicken which Burgener averred was concealed in the knapsack. We then prepared one of our numerous bottles for the due reception of our names, and it was subsequently carefully built into the cairn. These duties having been performed, and Burgener having borrowed Gen-
- ↑ That this is no exaggeration may be distinctly seen either from the Metterhorn or from the slopes above and to the west of Breuil. From these two opposite points this part of the arête is well seen.
