roof, through which the poles supporting the structure project. Though these holes are very small, the rain fell in such torrents that enough came through them to form ponds on our waterproof floor. We drained these ponds by cutting holes in our flooring, but, in the narrow space available, it was somewhat inconvenient to have two damp and uninhabitable regions. Zurfluh, in a moment of inspiration, sallied out into the deluge and stuck a boot on the top of each pair of poles. By this ingenious device we were restored to comparative comfort.
Late the next afternoon we saw our porter reappear. A complex arrangement of knapsacks—one in front and one behind—a big load of firewood stuck on anywhere, and a burka skilfully draped round his shoulders and packages, gave him the appearance of an overgrown umbrella, enjoying a quiet constitutional in peculiarly fitting atmospheric conditions.
Shortly before dark a furious south-westerly wind drove the clouds down the valley, and the great peaks emerged resplendent in whitest snow. During the night the wind veered to the north, and terrific blasts threatened the security of our tent. More than once we were forced to adopt drastic measures to save it from total ruin. Happily the clouds and mist were put to utter rout, and at daybreak we could see the last fragments of their beaten host hurrying, helter-skelter, across the Zanner pass.
When I sought to put on my climbing boots, I
