ding the way to the Matterhorn, as there
was a sign-post at the end of the village. We thought we might as well
take the easy side, as the front of the hill is pretty stiff. Of course
we had to take a good long round, which was a nuisance, as we meant to
be back for _table d'hote_ at seven. When we got properly on to the
side we put it on, but it was a good long grind, I can tell you. We
weren't sorry to get up to a snow slope and cool ourselves.

They ought to sweep a path across the snow, or fellows are very likely
to lose their way. We lost ours, but we had a good lark on the snow
snowballing. It got deep in one part, so we had to clamber up the rocks
at the side to get to the top of the slope. It's rather deceptive,
distance, on the snow, for it took us an hour to do what seemed only a
few yards. We got on to a flat bit after awhile, and had another turn
on the snow.

It was rather a game rolling things down the slope. They went at an
awful pace. The nuisance is the snow has a way of slipping from under
you, and that's how Jim and I came to grief. We were sitting on the
edge of the slope watching a boulder slide, when we began to slide
ourselves. We hadn't our spikes on, or we might have pulled up. As it
was, we got up no end of a speed down that slope. It was no joke. I
yelled to Jim to lie flat, and not sit up, or he might pitch on his
head. I don't remember how we got on after that; I must have bumped my
head, for when I pulled myself together I found I was sitting in the
middle of a grass field with a jolly headache, and pretty well black and
blue.

I was able to get up though, and looked about for old Jim. I can tell
you it was no joke. I couldn't see him anywhere, and thought he must
have been buried in the snow. I can tell you, old man, it was rough on
me for a quarter of an hour or so. But I found him at last, about a
quarter of a mile down the field. He rolled, he said; he couldn't get
up, as his foot was screwed. So it was a pretty go, as I couldn't carry
him. If I hadn't been quite so knocked about I might have tried; but
Jim's a good nine stone, so I might have dropped him. Luckily, some
fellows came--they'd come to look for us, in fact, as we'd told the
waiter we were going up the Matterhorn, and might not be back in time
for dinner; and when we didn't turn up, they guessed, I suppose, we
might have come to grief. It was a good job they came, as Jim's foot
was rather bad. Al