just as the twilight was deepening into the gloom of night, and found a blazing fire and hot soup, and a scene more strange and picturesque than ever delights the eye of the modern hut dweller.
Hastings and Collie had unearthed a ruined chalet and out of its débris had built a drain-like construction, which, skilfully roofed with the ground sheet of the tent, they averred would make splendid sleeping quarters. Slingsby and I, with our usual magnanimity, expressed our willingness to put up with the inferior accommodation of the tent. From various remarks at breakfast the next morning—or ought I to say the same night?—I inferred that our generosity had not been without its reward.
We started at 1,46 a.m. The sky was cloudless, and the stars shone with that steady light which is the surest sign of perfect weather. We picked our way along the slopes, skilfully led by Collie and Slingsby, till we reached an old moraine. Following this to its extreme head, at 3 a.m. we traversed on to the glacier just above the point where it makes a more or less unsuccessful attempt at an ice fall. In order to inspect our intended line of ascent, we bore to the right on to the open glacier, and then sat down to wait for sufficient light to see whether the unknown couloir was likely to give us passage. The great circle of cliffs rising for nearly four thousand feet above the glacier looked in the dim light of dawn ex-
