northerly wind. Cheered by this hopeful sign we tramped along the glacier shelf till we were pulled up by a short but steep step in the ice. After a little work with the axe we gained its upper level, and were rewarded, the mists having meanwhile somewhat lifted, by a clear view of the rocks by which we hoped to gain the ridge.
At the point where the true peak of the Verte begins to tower up above the long turreted ridge of the Moine, a great buttress projects far into the Talêfre glacier. Between this buttress and the Moine ridge is a semicircular hollow, divided from top to bottom by a long rib of rock. On either side of this are snow-filled couloirs, and we trusted that by one or other of them, or the dividing rib, we might make our way to the ridge. So far as we could see, no very serious difficulty was likely to be encountered, though as all the upper rocks and all the ridge were still obstinately shrouded in a fog we could not be absolutely certain. We crossed the Bergschrund, and, after a sharp struggle with some frozen rubble, effected a lodgment on the cliff at 6.45 a.m.
We then unanimously decided that the weather was not very bad, and that we were as good as on the summit of our peak—"wherefore," we said, "let us eat, smoke, and be merry." Half an hour later, after these duties had been thoroughly performed, we began to scramble up the slabs, each taking that particular line which seemed best.
