Their ringleader—one Zacharie Cachat—a well-known guide, of no particular merit, but not a bad fellow, was haranguing the multitude. He met with more than his match. My friend Kennedy, who was on the spot, heard of the disturbance and rushed into the fray, confronted the burly guide, and thrust back his absurdities into his teeth.
There were the materials for a very pretty riot; but they manage these things better in France than we do, and the gensdarmes—three strong—came down and dispersed the crowd. The guides quailed before the cocked hats, and retired to cabarets to take little glasses of absinthe and other liquors more or less injurious to the human frame. Under the influence of these stimulants, they conceived an idea which combined revenge with profit. "You have ascended the Aiguille Verte, you say. We say we don't believe it. We say, do it again! Take three of us with you, and we will bet you two thousand francs to one thousand, that you won't make the ascent!"
This proposition was formally notified to me, but I declined it, with thanks, and recommended Kennedy to go in and win. I accepted, however, a hundred franc share in the bet, and calculated upon getting two hundred per cent on my investment. Alas! how vain are human expectations! Zacharie Cachat was put into confinement, and although Kennedy actually ascended the Aiguille a week later, with two Chamounix guides and Peter Perm, the bet came to nothing.[1]
The weather arranged itself just as this storm in a teapot blew over, and we left at once for the Montanvert, in order to show the Chamouniards the easiest way over the chain of Mont Blanc, in return for the civilities which we had received from them during the past three days.
- ↑ It should be said that we received the most polite apologies for this affair from the chief of the gensdarmes, and an invitation to lodge a complaint against the ringleaders. We accepted his apologies, and declined his invitation. Needless to add, Michel Croz took no part in the demonstration.
