spent the rest of the day on that bleak spot in a biting and furious wind.
Zurfluh, after a careful survey, determined that we must again traverse to our left. We crawled along the face of the great cliff, clinging to outward shelving and most unsatisfactory ledges, till we reached a place where strenuous efforts just enabled us to lift ourselves over a sort of bulge. Above this the angle was less steep, and a few cracks and splinters enabled us to get reliable hold. A short distance further, however, a second and, if possible, nastier bulge appeared. After contemplating Zurfluh's graceful attitudes and listening to his gasps as he battled with the desperate difficulty, it was "borne in upon me"—as the Plymouth Brethren say—that the second peak in the Caucasus ought not to be climbed by an unroped party. Would it not be contrary to all the canons laid down for the guidance of youth and innocence in the Badminton and All England series? Might it not even be regarded as savouring of insult to our peak? I mildly suggested these fears to Zurfluh. He asked me whether I would come up for the rope or whether he should send the rope down to me. For some hidden reason a broad grin illuminated his face as he strongly recommended the former course, pointing out that the ledge on which I was huddled was not a convenient place for roping operations. Despite this advice I unhesitatingly
