and exercise. The chaperon, weighted with a rucksac, was depressingly slow and stolid, and eventually got left far behind. We waited for him later on where a few crevasses were beginning to open out. We reached the base of our climb at 6.30 a.m., and rested there for a quarter of an hour, refreshing ourselves with tea from a Thermos flask, figs, and chocolate. Then we put on the rope and started up a steep snow-face. It was still frozen, so Graham had to chip up. Standing in my steps waiting for him to cut more, I looked straight down over pure snow to the Muller Glacier, 6,000 feet beneath. It was my first experience of step-cutting on a steep slope with a long drop beneath. Graham turned now and again to ask if I felt "all right," and seemed amply satisfied with my cheerful grin of response. At the end of the snow slope we gained some rocks, which led direct to the summit. These rocks were steep and in places by no means over-burdened with hand and foot holds. The want of these did not worry me half as much as the rope, to which I was quite unused, so naturally found it considerably in the way. At first Graham, who led, turned round every minute or so to show me a hand or foot hold, or to give me a pull with the rope on what he considered a difficult bit. He evinced considerable surprise when he usually discovered me already at his heels without the proffered assistance. Once I caught a gentle murmur that sounded like "Did not know I was taking out a blessed cat"; and I enjoyed a quiet laugh to myself all unheard. By the time we neared the summit I was left severely alone to do as I pleased, and all the attention was directed to the porter, who was a novice on rock, and consequently rather unhappy. He was short in the limbs (and breath), and had visibly not been intended by nature for a mountaineer. As I watched his struggles it was borne upon me that I was not the only victim being offered up on the sacred altar of the conventions. We safely reached the summit
