when no snow was about would be painful even with a rope to limit its freedom, so we moved with deliberation and with a due sense of the difficulties of the place. After passing the dreaded _pas-de-deux_, I reached in about ten feet of ascent a satisfactory recess, where a ‘belaying pin’ was to be found. It is an excellent projection of rock, sometimes overlooked by climbers, behind which the rope can be slipped, and held with firmness in the event of a fall. It is a little awkward for the leader to pass directly up into the ghyll again before the second man moves away from the window. Such a course would require a long rope. Using the belaying pin we found that a sixty-feet length of rope was ample for the party of three, and no time was lost in unroping or re-adjusting. When our second man reached the pin I quitted the recess to make room for him, and mounted into the gully while he played up the last man. A few feet of easy scree brought us into the large open portion of the ravine which marks the only spot where it is possible to break away to the left from the gully. The final crags in front rose abruptly up for another 200 feet, and were deeply cut by the vertical Collier’s Chimney, which starts almost at once from our level. The skyline trended downwards by the left, so that the open route to the top was not so long in point of distance as the other. [Illustration: G. P. Abraham & Sons, Photos. Keswick COLLIER’S CHIMNEY, MOSS GHYLL (_Face page 51_)] It certainly was easier to work up the wall to the left. It rose at a steep angle, and was columnar in structure, with long, porphyritic slabs crowned by small levels of tufted grass. The leader would often be unable to help his followers with the rope, but the successive ledges could be so chosen that no great distance would exist between the resting-places. Such open work is often more trying for the nerves than harder chimney climbing, but it is always admirable practice when the ledges are reliable.