t gloves. Led by their teacher they wearily climb
up the slopes, and then comes the mad career home to the midday meal.
Twenty or thirty little girls all dashing down together practising
turns as they go, or making as straight down as they dare in their
effort to outpace their rivals.

The boys carry the sport still further and most local Ski-jumping
competitions start with a demonstration by the boys, who often do not
look more than 10 or 12 years old, and who go over the big jump as
straight as their elders and usually a good deal more gaily, as they
have not begun to appreciate the dangers. The smaller boys line the
sides of the jump and pour out at the word of the judge on to the
steep landing-slope like a lot of little goblins, jumping on their
Skis horizontally to flatten away any track or hole made by a jumper
who has failed to jump perfectly. Little chaps of seven or eight run
through the woods on these occasions, swanking their turns through the
trees and putting most grown-up runners to shame by their nimbleness.
At Pontresina one winter I was much amused by one of these small
children wearing a British third-class test badge which he must have
picked up. I asked him where he got it, but he hurried away for fear
I would claim it, and his Christianias through the big trees made me
very envious.

Many of the children ski to school and back, getting endless practice
all through the winter months.

May I here appeal to British runners who may have old Skis, even
broken ones to throw away, to offer them to the local branch of the
Swiss Ski Club as there is an organization which mends them or cuts
them down for lending or giving to the school children, who are too
poor to provide themselves with Skis.

When the beginner has learnt the elements of straight running and
turns and begins to go off among the mountains the real interest of
Ski-ing is begun, with the slow climb up in single file, first of all
through woods and then out on to the open slopes. This is usually a
silent game as breath is needed for the climb, and it is dull work
keeping up a conversation with the back ahead. Sometimes, as one
inadvertently steps on the Skis ahead, a gruff word is flung back and
the trespasser is wise who stops, pretending to attend to his binding,
or to look at the view--the view is usually worth looking at, too, as
there is usually something to see. If it is not a distant view of the
Great Alps or of the valley below, it