Charles E. Fay

“ The final peak was before us, and its summit hardly three hundred feet distant—a great white hissing mass,—a precipice on the hidden left side, a steep snowslope of perhaps 65 to 70 degrees on the right. Under the July sun its whole surface was seemingly in a state of flux, slipping, over the underlying mass with a constant, threatening hiss. A second narrow arete led across to this final summit. This, too, was corniced, and in a remarkable way. The swirl of the wind had produced an unusual spectacle. At the beginning and at the end, the cornice hung out to the right ”

“ At about 7000 feet and at the very base of a spur from the southern, higher peak, near to a refreshing rill, we found two gnarled firs with ample tops, promising a tolerable shelter in case of a sudden shower, and under these we spread our blankets with good hope for the morrow. The sun set clear, the stars gleamed with joyous brightness, and with such omens we saw ourselves already the victors over the untamed monster at whose feet we dared to lie so serenely. But "man proposes." ”

“ The arête from the shoulder to the base of the cliff was now child's play. The cliff was the same old story, though I recall one variants—the hand and foot holds on one occasion lost their grip on the man passing between the first two anchorages, and left him for a moment in a state of what might be called "suspended animation." Arriving at the top, all was changed from the conditions of 1901. The broken arête was indeed under a draping of recent snow, but no cornice was in evidence. ”

“ As the day wore on, the sun came out, and to our great relief, we saw the clinging snows on the peak diminish hour by hour, as we studied it in a practice-climb to the col joining "Little Goodsir"—the third "Sister"—to Zinc mountain, whose crags rose above our camp on the south. ”

“ This camp was almost at the identical height of the bivouac of 1901, but south of the great peak. Dubious weather conditions prevailed for the rest of the day; but we turned in early with good hopes for the morrow, which were dashed about two o'clock by Kaufmann's report that it was snowing. Morning revealed a picture more appropriate to Christmas than to mid-July. The evergreens were bearing wintry loads of wet snow, and the grey sky gave little promise of good weather. In any event, Goodsir was secure from assault for the present ”

“ The longest-living author of this work died in 1931, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 92 years or less. This work may be in the public domain in countries and areas with longer native copyright terms that apply the rule of the shorter term to foreign works. ”