in the Swiss or Tyrolean Alps; we
got the real thrills by using our own hands and feet without ice pick,
staff or hobnailed shoes.

But Big Pete never hesitated and I followed him without a word, and when
the trail led along the edge of a dizzy height I could look at the
middle of Big Pete's broad back and then my head would not swim. It
required quick and good judgment to tell just how much of a slant made a
loose stone unsafe to step upon. It was exciting and exhilarating work,
and the violent exercise kept me so warm that I carried most of my
clothes in a bundle on my back. Presently our path led us into a goat
trail, one of those century old paths made by shaggy white Alpine
animals, and used by them as regular highways. There were plenty of
fresh goat signs, and the broad path led us over a saddle mountain to
the verge of a cliff, beyond which it seemed impossible for anything but
birds to pursue the trail. Here we sat down to rest and to make a cup of
tea over a tiny fire, although wood was plentiful at this place, it
being in the timber line.

Below us lay a valley, into which numerous small glaciers emptied their
everlasting supply of ice and blocks of stone, and horse-tail falls
poured from the melting snow fields. It might have presented enchanting
prospects to an iceman or a bighorn, or a Rocky Mountain goat, but for
two tired men it was a gloomy, dangerous and desolate place and I felt
certain that even a witch-bear would not choose such a dangerous place
as a camping ground. We had finished our tea and I was feeling somewhat
refreshed when I noticed a peculiar stinging sensation about my face; I
felt as if I had been attacked by some peculiar form of insect. But
there were none in sight.

Pete, at this time, was some distance away prospecting the "lay of the
land." I saw him suddenly pull the cape of his wamus over his face, and
reasoned that he also had been attacked by these invisible insects.

To my surprise, the big fellow seemed very much alarmed, and every time
I shouted to him it greatly excited him. As he was hurrying to me as
rapidly as possible, I desisted from further inquiry. When Big Pete
reached my side he pulled a handkerchief from around my neck and put it
over my mouth, making signs which I did not comprehend. At last he put
his muffled mouth to my ear and shouted through the cape of his wamus.
"Shut yer meat-trap or you're food for the coyotes. It is the WHITE
DEATH!"

CHAPTER