the order of going was changed. Pierre Delouvain, who
had led all the morning, now went last, and Garratt Skinner led. He led
quickly and with great judgment or knowledge--Pierre Delouvain at the
end of the rope wondered whether it was judgment or knowledge--and
suddenly Walter Hine found himself standing on the crest with Garratt
Skinner, and looking down the other side upon a glacier far below, which
flows from the Mur de la Cote on the summit ridge of Mont Blanc into the
Brenva glacier.

"That's famous," cried Garratt Skinner, looking once more at his watch.
He did not say that they had lost yet another hour upon the face of the
buttress. It was now half past nine in the morning. "We are twelve
thousand feet up, Wallie," and he swung to his left, and led the party up
the ridge of the buttress.

As they went along this ridge, Wallie Hine's courage rose. It was narrow
but not steep, nor was it ice. It was either rock or snow in which steps
could be kicked. He stepped out with a greater confidence. If this were
all, the Brenva climb was a fraud, he exclaimed to himself in the vanity
of his heart. Ahead of them a tall black tower stood up, hiding what lay
beyond, and up toward this tower Garratt Skinner led quickly. He no
longer spoke to his companions, he went forward, assured and inspiring
assurance; he reached the tower, passed it and began to cut steps. His ax
rang as it fell. It was ice into which he was cutting.

This was the first warning which Walter Hine received. But he paid no
heed to it. He was intent upon setting his feet in the steps; he found
the rope awkward to handle and keep tight, his attention was absorbed in
observing his proper distance. Moreover, in front of him the stalwart
figure of Garratt Skinner blocked his vision. He went forward. The snow
on which he walked became hard ice, and instead of sloping upward ran
ahead almost in a horizontal line. Suddenly, however, it narrowed; Hine
became conscious of appalling depths on either side of him; it narrowed
with extraordinary rapidity; half a dozen paces behind him he had been
walking on a broad smooth path; now he walked on the width of the top of
a garden wall. His knees began to shake; he halted; he reached out
vainly into emptiness for some support on which his shaking hands might
clutch. And then in front of him he saw Garratt Skinner sit down and
bestride the wall. Over Garratt Skinner's head, he now saw the path by
which he needs must go. H