care for that with our oilskin bags, and sleep visited our weary eyelids as it had never done before.
Hamilton's condition had improved, but his feet were sore and he was very weak when at 4.30 a.m. we once more set off for our home on the glaciers—the Ball Glacier camp. The prospect of boiled rice and fresh chops lured us on as we made our way down the valley, and putting forth our last remaining energy we made the ever-welcome refuge in eight hours. Harper, who had most left in him, going on ahead and preparing a substantial feed for the stragglers behind.
Oh, that tin plate of rice, and those chops, and that tea!
Now came an exhibition of pluck rarely seen. After two hours' rest Hamilton said he must reach the Hermitage that night; despite our dissuasions he determined to go on, and Annan generously volunteered to accompany him. These two men actually reached the Hermitage that evening at 8.30. It was the pluckiest day's work I have ever seen done in the mountains.
Harper and I came down next day in a snow storm, with fifty-pound swags.
Many people seem to think that a visit to the Alpine regions necessarily entails contact with very cold weather, even in the summer time. This is quite an erroneous idea, for on this occasion the thermometer readings at the lower camp varied from 42° Fahr. in the morning to 72° in the evening, and I should think that even during the coldest night the instrument did not register much lower than the first-named figure. We frequently went about in shirt and knickers only,
