of success to assure us that at last Walker’s Gully had yielded to the onslaught of the climber. We pushed the leader’s boots into his jacket pockets and sent up all our ‘luggage.’ Owing to the half-frozen condition of our fingers, tying the various things on the rope took so long a time, that we called forth an impatient exclamation from above. Eventually we, in turn, landed safely at the top, after swinging ignominiously on the rope, in much the same way as our ‘luggage’ had done. However, the great hitherto unclimbed pitch of Walker’s Gully was below us, and there followed the usual congratulations. Our progress up from the screes had been slow, something like three hours, but much time had been spent in reconnoitring under extremely bad conditions. The situation was still rather serious, for we were perched on a narrow snow-ledge on the very brink of the upper chock-stone; and the three of us were almost in a state of collapse from cold and the saturated state of our clothes. The forced inaction of the leader, whilst we were finishing the climb, had made him so benumbed as to be almost helpless, and he was sitting with his feet in the wet snow, ineffectually trying to put on his boots. We had carefully kept some stockings and gloves dry in the rücksack; but the opening of the sack with half-frozen fingers proved unfortunate, for its contents escaped, and, with the other relics which had come down through Jordan Gap, now adorned the snow-patch far below. It was then agreed that this narrow, exposed ledge was, under the circumstances, not a suitable dressing room; so we gathered up our belongings, including our leader’s boots, and carefully ascended the snow until we came to a safe resting place. Here we resorted to the usual means of thawing ourselves, and our leader’s boots were restored to their appointed places. The race up the steep snow seemed to revive our spirits, and, by the time the dry rocks below Great Doup were reached, our sufferings gave way to the glow of success. One little excitement was still in store for us, for Jones told us that he was threatened with frost-bite in both feet. On removing his boots we found that his statement was true, so we rubbed his feet with soft snow, and, before putting on his boots, the troublesome feet were placed as far as possible in the pockets of the warmest member of the party, until circulation was thoroughly restored. Night was drawing on apace; so we bade farewell to our ‘vanquished foe,’ and were soon scampering along the High Level, bound for the well-earned comforts of Wastdale.