was assisted into safety with the rope. No little elated we began to climb.
The slope became steeper and steeper, and it was necessary to make very large "soup-plate" steps to ensure safety in the descent. The Grahams took turn about, and then Alex got the worst of the bargain, as his turn came at a very nasty traverse beneath an overhanging wall and round a steep corner. It was solid ice, which came away in great flakes, like shale, and made steps very difficult to cut. He also had to cut finger-grips, as the grade was so steep. We were about half an hour negotiating this corner, and it tried our patience badly, as, once round it, we hoped for a view of the summit and a good knowledge of what lay ahead of us. At last there was a sigh of relief from Alex, and a murmur that sounded like "Tasman, I've got you," and he disappeared out of sight. When, in our turn, we got round we saw we were only about 100 feet from the ridge leading to the summit, and the icy conditions were changing for the better at every step. Above us we could hear our old friend the west wind whistling on his way, and we knew we were in for one more fight before we gained the summit. Fortunately for us, the ridge sloped gradually at the last, and we crossed it and made our way quickly up the western side; but, quick as we were, we were frozen once more when we gained the top, which was a small triangular plateau sloping gently downward, and afforded us some shelter from the worst of the wind. It was 1.30 p.m., so it had taken us just five hours to climb 600 fee—as long as the whole ascent of the Silberhorn, when we accomplished 4,196 feet in five and a half hours. Our aneroid gave the height of Mount Tasman as 11,880 feet, but the Government maps make it only 11,475 feet, so the aneriod is probably high. As we were seeking shelter on the top, I slipped on a bit of glazed ice and measured my length, falling on my right arm and giving it a nasty jar. This was the
