CHAPTER XI
A GREAT ICE PEAK
Back from the summit, every muscle aching
From the jarring, harsh descent;
The will alert, and eye and nerve yet waking;
Spirit and strength half spent.
Back from the summit, victory denied us,
Retreat alone before;
No more the gates of mountain hope to guide us;
Only the hostel door.
G. Winthrop Young.
The next day the weather was worse than ever, and we whiled away the day with what patience we could muster. The chief entertainment was accorded by the Government photographer, who taught me a charming Maori song, and induced a Maori porter who was with him to dance a haka, Next day the weather cleared and we made joyous preparations for the start. In return for his entertainment of the previous day the Government photographer insisted on us posing for a cinematograph drama. It was great fun. He started with a pastoral of "The great lady climber plucking mountain lilies," and a second of that eminent personage happily clasping an armful of flowers, like any mere female. Then came an exit from the tent in climbing costume (the scene was supposed to have shifted to a high bivouac), another of the guides packing up the tent while I looked on and gave directions. Then the scene shifted to the glacier, and we were taken climbing up ice-walls and
