ney to be
taken to the top of Mont Blanc, and nothing should prevent his getting
there. He would go alone, if no one would accompany him. "Cowards!
cowards!" he added, turning to the guides; and he uttered the insult in
the same ghostly voice with which he had roused himself just before to
suicide.

"You shall see if we are cowards... Fasten to the rope and forward!"
cried the head guide. This time, it was Bompard who protested
energetically. He had had enough, and he wanted to be taken back.
Tartarin supported him vigorously.

"You see very well that that young man is insane..." he said, pointing
to the Swede, who had already started with great strides through the
heavy snow-flakes which the wind was beginning to whirl on all sides.
But nothing could stop the men who had just been called cowards. The
marmots were now wide-awake and heroic. Tartarin could not even obtain
a conductor to take him back with Bompard to the Grands-Mulets. Besides,
the way was very easy; three hours' march, counting a detour of twenty
minutes to get round that _roture_, if they were afraid to go through it
alone.

"_Outre!_ yes, we are afraid of it..." said Bompard, without the
slightest shame; and the two parties separated.

Bompard and the P. C. A. were now alone. They advanced with caution on
the snowy desert, fastened to a rope: Tartarin first, feeling his way
gravely with his ice-axe; filled with a sense of responsibility and
finding relief in it.

"Courage! keep cool!.. We shall get out of it all right," he called to
Bompard repeatedly. It is thus that an officer in battle, seeking to
drive away his own fear, brandishes his sword and shouts to his men:
"Forward! _s. n. de D_!.. all balls don't kill."

At last, here they were at the end of that horrible crevasse. From there
to the hut there were no great obstacles; but the wind blew, and blinded
them with snowy whirlwinds. Further advance was impossible for fear of
losing their way.

"Let us stop here for a moment," said Tartarin. A gigantic _serac_ of
ice offered them a hollow at its base. Into it they crept, spreading
down the india-rubber rug of the president and opening a flask of rum,
the sole article of provision left them by the guides. A little warmth
and comfort followed thereon, while the blows of the ice-axes, getting
fainter and fainter up the height, told them of the progress of the
expedition. They echoed in the heart of the P. C. A. like a pang of
regret for not