ured to myself the fun we should have on our way back, and the
railway speed with which we should come down, but I quite left out of
the calculation what the condition of the snow might be a few hours
hence. It was broad day-light when we reached the top of the incline,
and the sun's welcome rays were beginning to brighten up the aiguilles
and peaks on our left. Looking back the spectacle was not only grand and
beautiful but weird-like, and the perfect stillness that reigned made it
all the more impressive. The valley of Chamonix was filled with clouds,
not mere fog or mist, but real clouds rolling beneath us, and slowly
rising up the mountains whose rugged peaks and sharp-pointed aiguilles
reared their graceful heads against a back ground of unclouded sky. The
scene was one to be remembered, and we felt that we were beginning to
reap the fruits of our five hours toil. Travelling was fairly easy, the
snow being in splendid condition, and as there was no danger to be
guarded against we were able to devote the whole of our attention to the
scenery. The summit shining white certainly appeared nearer than it did
from the Hotel d'Angleterre, but not so close as we should have expected
after the hours we had spent in journeying towards it. Arriving at the
Rochers des Bosses, some low, flat rocks, scarcely rising above the
surrounding snow, their surfaces rent by the severity of the climate
into thousands of sharp jagged pieces of stone, we sat down to rest for
the first time since quitting the Grands Mulets. Lying down on this hard
but welcome couch, and warmed by the sun now shining brightly upon us,
we surveyed the remaining portion of the task before us--the 1,500 feet
and more--yet to be mounted, immense fields of snow to be traversed, les
Bosses du Dromadaire to be climbed--and then the final slope. Having
"lighted up" I felt in a very contented mood, then an involuntary nod
reminded me that we had not slept since the night before
last,--puff--nod--puff--then a longer doze.

"Francois, I should like to have a snooze."

"You must not, sir!"

"It can't do any harm."

"You must not!"

"Then the sooner we are off the better, for there is a lot of work to be
done yet."

Getting up lazily, we buckled to once more, and surmounting first the
Grande and then the Petite Bosse, we approached a pure white ridge,
sharp as a knife, and apparently vertical. Wondering how Francois would
steer, whether to the right or left, so as