almost
destitute families. But Schnurdreher, in his mountain dress, with his
spiked shoes on his feet, still lay at the undertaker's, awaiting the
coming of his relatives.

A RACE FOR THE SUMMIT.

The morning of August 29th was cloudless, and with the same outfit as
before, but with a scion of the house of Balmat for porter in place of
the man who had filled that office on the first occasion, I started once
more for the frosty topknot of Europe. At the Grands Mulets we found two
Germans with their retinue of guides and porters, six persons in all,
who were also bound for the summit. They left the Grands Mulets at
midnight, and we followed them three-quarters of an hour later. There
was no moon, and Couttet carried a lantern. On reaching the Petit
Plateau we saw the lights of the other party flashing ahead of us, and
at the foot of the Grands Montees we overtook them. They had talked
confidently of making the ascent in extraordinarily quick time, and some
good-natured chaffing now passed between Couttet and the rival guides. I
had had no thought of a race; but I defy anybody, under the
circumstances in which we were placed, not to experience a little
spurring from the spirit of emulation. Jerking the rope to attract
Couttet's attention, I told him in a low voice to pass the others at the
first opportunity.

"We'll do it on the Grand Plateau," he whispered.

Five minutes later, however, the advance party paused to take breath. We
immediately broke out of their tracks in the snow and started to pass
around them; but they instantly accepted the challenge, and a scrambling
race began up the steep slope. Sometimes we sank so deep that time was
lost in extricating our legs, and again we slipped back, which was even
more annoying than sticking fast. The powdery snow flew about like dust,
and was occasionally dumped into my face by the piston-like action of my
knees. The lanterns jangled and flickered wildly, and in their shifting
and uncertain light, with our odd habiliments, we must have resembled a
company of mad demons on a lark.

Such a race in such a place could only last a couple of minutes, and it
was soon over, the American coming out ahead. Getting upon the Grand
Plateau, we did not stop to rest, but broke into a dog trot.

"Whatever happens, Couttet, we must be first at the top."

"Very well, monsieur."

From the Grand Plateau there are two ways to the summit: one by the
Bosses du Dromadaire, which we fol