to descend again that day and bring up more supplies on the morrow.
Coming down, Harper had an almost miraculous escape from swift and certain destruction. We were glissading on a snow slope when a mass of rocks broke suddenly away from above and whizzed down the slope at a terrific rate, passing within a few inches of Harper, who did not observe them coming, though both Annan and myself had seen the rocks start a hundred feet or so above him, and had shouted to warn him of their descent.
This was a warning to us to be careful how we trusted snow couloirs during the afternoon, after the sun's rays had done their daily work on the crust of the snow. It is by such lessons that we in New Zealand have learnt without the aid of Swiss guides to understand, to appreciate, and circumvent those dangers to which the Alpine climber is always more or less exposed.
Another fine morning saw us off again with sleeping-bags, tent, &c., and by noon we were up at the bivouac with three days' supplies. Only resting for an hour or two we pushed on upwards, intending to cross the Great Plateau—that ice-field of which we knew, but which we seemed fated never to reach—and find some sheltering rocks under Aorangi's uppermost slopes where we might spend the night.
In a few minutes we reached Mr. Green's sleeping-place, across which now lay a rock weighing some tons (another warning), illustrating forcibly the rotten state of the rocks.
We now roped and took to the snow, which led
