much upon my chances; I had read too frequently the struggles of the pioneers, calling often for great courage and endurance, to think lightly of any ascent of Mount Cook.
We now turned our attention to lunch, and that finished, duly built a cairn and placed in it our whitebait tin, on which we had previously inscribed our names and the date with the point of my hatpin. This little ceremony seemed to bring home to me the fact that I had really accomplished a first-class climb, and I felt inclined to whoop for joy at the thought that I was the first woman to stand on the summit of Mount Malte Brun; especially as it had only been thrice climbed before, each time by experienced men, and Graham declared ours was the most difficult route of all. We made the first traverse going from south to north, and began the descent, following Mr. Sillem's route down the northern arête. Mr. Earle took the lead, I was in the middle, and Graham safe-guarded the rear. The descent proved considerably more nerve-racking than the ascent, although the rocks were not really so difficult. Descents are, I think, to most climbers harder than ascents; so many elements combine to rob one of that first joyous freshness which makes the surmounting of difficulties a matter of pleasure and encouragement when the summit is still to be attained. On the descent your triumphs are all behind you, and the major part of your forces are the worse for wear. You begin to descend, and the strain of past difficulties begins to tell in aching muscles and over-active nerves. You have a choice of two methods, either of which are harder than ascending the same rocks would be. You may climb downwards with your back to the rocks and consequently facing the abyss beneath you, and getting a tolerable view of the difficulties ahead of you, and a notion where to place your hands and feet; or you may turn your face to the rocks and your back to the abyss, and let yourself down gingerly with your foot-holds out of sight. An exploring glance, or the man
