e which unites
these two mountains. You must pursue for three hours a giddy
path, and scale a height of moving ice, called the "Camel's
Hump."

The third route consists in ascending directly to the summit of
the Corridor, crossing an ice-wall seven hundred and fifty feet
high, which extends along the first escarpment of the Rouges
rocks.

The guides declared the first route impracticable, on account of
the recent crevasses which entirely obstructed it; the choice
between the two others remained. I thought the second, by the
"Camel's Hump," the best; but it was regarded as too dangerous,
and it was decided that we should attack the ice-wall conducting
to the summit of the Corridor.

When a decision is made, it is best to execute it without delay.
We crossed the Grand-Plateau, and reached the foot of this really
formidable obstacle.

The nearer we approached the more nearly vertical became its
slope. Besides, several crevasses which we had not perceived
yawned at its base.

We nevertheless began the difficult ascent. Steps were begun by
the foremost guide, and completed by the next. We ascended two
steps a minute. The higher we went the more the steepness
increased. Our guides themselves discussed what route to follow;
they spoke in patois, and did not always agree, which was not a
good sign. At last the slope became such that our hats touched
the legs of the guide just before us.

A hailstorm of pieces of ice, produced by the cutting of the
steps, blinded us, and made our progress still more difficult.
Addressing one of the foremost guides, I said,--

"Ah, it's very well going up this way! It is not an open road, I
admit: still, it is practicable. Only how are you going to get us
down again?"

"O monsieur," replied Ambrose Ravanel, "we will take another
route going back."

At last, after violent effort for two hours, and after having cut
more than four hundred steps in this terrible mass, we reached
the summit of the Corridor completely exhausted.

We then crossed a slightly sloping plateau of snow, and passed
along the side of an immense crevasse which obstructed our way.
We had scarcely turned it when we uttered a cry of admiration. On
the right, Piedmont and the plains of Lombardy were at our feet.
On the left, the Pennine Alps and the Oberland, crowned with
snow, raised their magnificent crests. Monte Rosa and the Cervin
alone still rose above us, but soon we should overlook them in
our turn.

Thi