even conceived the idea of making a pass over to the Hermitage viâ the Hooker Glacier. But the work became more difficult, and we got into patches of snow and were unfortunately without our ice-axes. This made our progress more slow and cautious. Still we pushed forward, the scene becoming grander at every step.
At length the light began to fade, and I saw that to get an exposure of the peak from the main ridge was hopeless, so Cooper unlimbered his instrument and I pushed on alone, determined to reach the saddle, at least, and see over to the other side. Reaching the final snow—that covering the actual head of the Ball Glacier, which had been below us on our right all the day—I sped across it as fast as I could go, and keeping a sharp look-out for indentations indicating covered crevasses, reached the rocks of a peak situate a little south of the saddle of the Ball Glacier. Crawling over a snow bridge spanning the bergschrund, which crumbled uncomfortably under me as I laid hold of the rocks on the upper side, after a short scramble I attained the summit.
How shall I tell of the view southwards which met my astonished gaze? How describe the glorious sunset effects? Life is not long enough to attempt it.
I was on the nameless peak south of the Ball Glacier saddle at an altitude of 7,540 feet—the highest peak south of the great majestic mass of Aorangi himself, who towered up for another 5,000 feet above me.
I quote from Mr. Green to give some idea of what he thought of our mountains from this point:—
'Deep down below us lay the Hooker Glacier, re-
