while Graham got the lunch. We were very lazy, and did not move for a couple of hours, but I at last heard the call of duty and we set off for our rock scramble. We had gone a very little way when we were startled by a stone falling from above; then I heard an excited whisper from Graham: "Chamois! Look! Over there, to the right." Two of them were feeding on a little bit of grass about one hundred yards away. We stalked them breathlessly as close as we dared; one lifted its head and listened, and then went on feeding calmly. We watched them for a long time, and I could have wept for disappointment at leaving the camera behind—this day of all days we had expected to encounter nothing worth photographing. These chamois were sent out from Austria three years ago, and no one has ever had more than a glimpse of them since they were liberated. They are red-brown, about the size of an ordinary goat, and have curly horns. We saw two more later on in the afternoon; they were on the ridge above us, and bounded out of sight immediately. We did some good rock-work without a rope and arrived on the summit about 4.30 p.m. We had a few glissades and came home via the big shingle slide, which I have mentioned elsewhere.
Next day, to my joy, some Australian friends arrived quite unexpectedly, and we had long talks over home news and made plans for excursions together round the Hermitage. It being all new to them, I looked forward to showing the loveliest spots to sympathetic souls. However, my plans came to nothing, for in the morning a wire arrived from Alex to say he would reach the Copland hut that night, so all my time was taken up with preparation for the great climb.
