Even upon this mountain-top it was impossible to forget the world, for some vile wretch came to the Jardin and made hideous sounds by blowing through a horn. Whilst we were denouncing him a change came over the weather; cumulous clouds gathered in all directions, and we started off in hot haste. Snow began to fall heavily before we were off the summit-rocks, our track was obscured and frequently lost, and everything became so sloppy and slippery that the descent took as long as the ascent. The schrund was recrossed at 3.15 P.M., and thence we raced down to the Couvercle, intending to have a carouse there; but as we rounded our rock a howl broke simultaneously from all three of us, for the porter had taken down the tent, and was in the act of moving off with it. “Stop, there! what are you doing?” He observed that he had thought we were killed, or at least lost, and was going to Chamounix to communicate his ideas to the _guide chef_. “Unfasten the tent, and get out the food.” Instead of doing so the porter fumbled in his pockets. “Get out the food,” we roared, losing all patience. “Here it is,” said our worthy friend, producing a dirty piece of bread about as big as a halfpenny roll. We three looked solemnly at the fluff-covered morsel. It was past a joke,—he had devoured everything. Mutton, loaves, cheese, wine, eggs, sausages—all was gone—past recovery. It was idle to grumble, and useless to wait. We were light, and could move quickly,—the porter was laden inside and out. We went our hardest,—he had to shuffle and trot. He streamed with perspiration; the mutton and cheese oozed out in big drops,—he larded the glacier. We had our revenge, and dried our clothes at the same time, but when we arrived at the Montanvert the porter was as wet as we had been upon our arrival at the Couvercle. We halted at the inn to get a little food, and at a quarter past eight re-entered Chamounix, amidst firing of cannon and other demonstrations of satisfaction on the part of the hotel-keepers. One would have thought that the ascent of this mountain, which had been frequently assailed before without success, would have afforded some gratification to a population whose chief support is derived from tourists, and that the prospect of the perennial flow of francs which might be expected to result from it would have stifled the jealousy consequent on the success of foreigners.(198) It was not so. Chamounix stood on its rights. A stranger had ignored the “regulations,” had imported two foreign guides, and, furthermore, he had added injury to that insult—he had not taken a single Chamounix guide. Chamounix would be revenged! It would bully the foreign guides; it would tell them they had lied,—that they had not made the ascent! Where were their proofs? Where was the flag upon the summit?