down they want to go up; and presently you find yourself skidding on the snow, with the skis on top of you, perhaps, in an attitude of "Now we have you."
The slopes of Hochstetter Dome and the smooth upper reaches of the Tasman Glacier are ideal places for the ski. Here one can enjoy the sport for two miles without interruption from broken surfaces. On these slopes I hoped to witness a good exhibition of skiing, and I did, but it was not what I expected.
"Do all guides here know how to ski?" I asked my pilot.
"Oh, yes!" replied he promptly.
As he prepared to illustrate his proficiency to me, I said, "I '11 stay behind, Guide, and watch you go down."
"No," he objected, "you go ahead and you can see me go past. I 'll catch up with you."
He did, finally, but he was so long coming that I looked back to see what he was doing. I was just in time to see him picking himself up. A few seconds later I looked back again. He was still going, but he had turned completely around, and seemed to be trying very hard to ski uphill. When he reached me he had an abrased and bleeding wrist.
"Now you get on," said he, seating himself on the skis.
"Is that the way you go down?" I asked.
"Sometimes," he replied. "The snow is too hard this morning to ski down. This is the way all tourists go down."
We started well, but the skis soon altered our course