CHAPTER VIII.
AIGUILLE DU PLAN.
MY first acquaintance with the Aiguille du Plan was made in company with Messrs. Cecil Slingsby and Ellis Carr, during two memorable days in 1892. On that occasion an evil fate drove us back beaten, battered, and hungry; and as we slunk wearily homewards, the huge séracs, poised above the first wall of cliff, seemed in the uncertain light of dusk to be grinning and pointing the finger of scorn at our tattered and woebegone appearance. None the less, baffled and bruised as we were, Slingsby was strongly of the opinion that "we'n powler't up an' down a bit an' had a rattlin' day," or rather two days, and averred with enthusiasm that it was the finest ice climb he had ever had the luck to be on.
I can still shut my eyes and see Carr toiling like a giant at the endless slopes of ice, and can still feel the blank chill that shivered through us when night chased the last lingering streaks of daylight from the slopes. The songs still ring in my ears with which he sought to keep us merry and awake
