cold it was! How the wind blew! Couttet's hat was torn from its fastenings, and went on a tour in Switzerland. The flour-like snow, swept off the ridge above, was tossed spirally upwards, eddying in tourmentes; then, dropt in lulls, or caught by other gusts, was flung far and wide to feed the Saleinoz.
"My feet are getting suspiciously numbed," cried Reilly: "how about frost-bites?" "Kick hard, sir," shouted the men; "it's the only way." Their fingers were kept alive by their work; but it was cold for the feet, and they kicked and hewed simultaneously. I followed their example, but was too violent, and made a hole clean through my footing. A clatter followed as if crockery had been thrown down a well.
I went down a step or two, and discovered in a second that all were standing over a cavern (not a crevasse, speaking properly) that was bridged over by a thin vault of ice, from which great icicles hung in groves. Almost in the same minute Reilly pushed one of his hands right through the roof. The whole party might have tumbled through at any moment. "Go ahead, Croz, we are-over a chasm!" "We know it," he answered, "and we can't find a firm place."
In the blandest manner, my comrade inquired if to persevere would not be to do that which is called " tempting Providence." My reply being in the affirmative, he further observed, "Suppose we go down?" " Very willingly." "Ask the guides." They had not the least objection; so we went down, and slept that night at the Montanvert.
Off the ridge we were out of the wind. In fact, a hundred feet down to windward, on the slope fronting the Glacier du Chardonnet, we were broiling hot; there was not a suspicion of a breeze. Upon that side there was nothing to tell that a hurricane was raging a hundred feet higher,—the cloudless sky looked tranquillity itself: whilst to leeward the only sign of a disturbed atmosphere was the friskiness of the snow upon the crests of the ridges.
We set out on the 14th, with Croz, Payot, and Charlet, to finish
