My hands were blistered with the axe work, but at 3 p.m. we were able to walk on the fast rounding-off slopes without steps, and soon we were on the summit, happy and flushed with victory. The mountain has a double top and we were on the western and slightly lower one.
What shall I say of the view from the Hochstetter Dome? It is comprehensive and wonderful. The whole country lay like a map before us. Westwards Elie de Beaumont and the western ocean, at our feet the Whymper Glacier, from which flowed the Wataroa River, threading its way through forest- and glacier-clad mountains to the sea, twenty miles away. Northwards and eastwards extended in glorious and shining array the magnificent chain of the Alps; glacier upon glacier, peak upon peak, range upon range of splendid mountains. Eastwards a fine rocky peak without a name and Mount Darwin, and looking south-westwards down the Tasman Glacier, from whence we had toiled our laborious way, the eye could follow the course of the great ice stream for twelve or thirteen miles, flanked by the grand mountains which sent down their tributary ice streams to join the mass in the valley below.
We gave three hearty cheers for her Majesty, and three for our proud little colony, and commenced the descent, going down backwards in the steps, and taking firm hold with our axes at every movement.
Time was precious, and on leaving the steps we ran down most of the less crevassed slopes, and soon found ourselves at the foot of the conquered mountain. Away we plodded down the glacier again—a hard, monotonous
