Nothing but the heavy breathing of our already sound asleep comrades broke the solemn stillness of the night. It was a silence to be felt. Nothing? Hark! what is that dull booming sound above us? Is that nothing? There it is again, plainer—on it comes, nearer, clearer; 'tis a crag escaped from the heights above! What a fearful crash! We jump to our feet. Down it comes with awful fury; what power can withstand its violence? Dancing, leaping, flying; dashing against others; roaring as it descends. Ah, it has passed! No; there it is again, and we hold our breath, as, with resistless force and explosions like artillery, it darts past, with an avalanche of shattered fragments trailing in its rear! 'Tis gone, and we breathe more freely as we hear the finale on the glacier below.[1]
We retired at last, but I was too excited to sleep. At a quarter-past four every man once more shouldered his pack and started. This time we agreed to keep more to the right, to see if it were not possible to get to the plateau without losing any time by crossing the glacier. To describe our route would be to repeat what has been said before. We mounted steadily for an hour and a half, sometimes walking, but more frequently climbing, and then found, after all, that it was necessary to cross the glacier. The part on which we struck came down a very steep slope, and was much crevassed. The word crevassed hardly expresses its appearance—it was a mass of formidable séracs. We found, however, more difficulty in getting on than across it; but, thanks to the rope, it was passed somehow; then the interminable buttresses began again. Hour after hour we proceeded upwards, frequently at fault, and obliged to descend. The ridge behind us had sunk long ago, and we looked over it, and all others, till our eyes rested on the majestic Viso. Hour after hour passed, and monotony was the order of the day; when twelve o'clock came we lunched, and contemplated the scene with satisfaction; all the
- ↑ M. Puiseux, on his expedition of 1848, was surprised, when at breakfast on the side of the mountain, by a mass of rock of more than a cubic yard falling like a bomb at his side, which threw up splinters in all directions.
