et it racing down
the slope towards Italy.

I think it was about half-past three when I saw the lights of the
frontier post. The air seemed milder than in the valleys, and there was
a soft scurry of snow on my right cheek. A couple of sleepy Swiss
sentries with their rifles in their hands stumbled out as I drew up.

They took my pass into the hut and gave me an anxious quarter of an
hour while they examined it. The performance was repeated fifty yards
on at the Italian post, where to my alarm the sentries were inclined to
conversation. I played the part of the sulky servant, answering in
monosyllables and pretending to immense stupidity.

'You are only just in time, friend,' said one in German. 'The weather
grows bad and soon the pass will close. Ugh, it is as cold as last
winter on the Tonale. You remember, Giuseppe?'

But in the end they let me move on. For a little I felt my way
gingerly, for on the summit the road had many twists and the snow was
confusing to the eyes. Presently came a sharp drop and I let the
Daimler go. It grew colder, and I shivered a little; the snow became a
wet white fog around the glowing arc of the headlights; and always the
road fell, now in long curves, now in steep short dips, till I was
aware of a glen opening towards the south. From long living in the
wilds I have a kind of sense for landscape without the testimony of the
eyes, and I knew where the ravine narrowed or widened though it was
black darkness.

In spite of my restlessness I had to go slowly, for after the first
rush downhill I realized that, unless I was careful, I might wreck the
car and spoil everything. The surface of the road on the southern slope
of the mountains was a thousand per cent worse than that on the other.
I skidded and side-slipped, and once grazed the edge of the gorge. It
was far more maddening than the climb up, for then it had been a
straight-forward grind with the Daimler doing its utmost, whereas now I
had to hold her back because of my own lack of skill. I reckon that
time crawling down from the summit of the Staub as some of the weariest
hours I ever spent.

Quite suddenly I ran out of the ill weather into a different climate.
The sky was clear above me, and I saw that dawn was very near. The
first pinewoods were beginning, and at last came a straight slope where
I could let the car out. I began to recover my spirits, which had been
very dashed, and to reckon the distance I had still to travel .