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, though 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; and, thanks to the rope, it was passed in safety. 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 summits in sight, with the single exception of the Viso, had given in, and we looked over an immense expanse—a perfect sea of peaks and snow-fields. Still the pinnacles rose above us, and opinions were freely uttered that we should see no summit of Pelvoux that day. Old Sémiond had become a perfect bore to all; whenever one rested for a moment to look about, he would say, with a complacent chuckle, “Don’t be afraid, follow me.” We came at last to a very bad piece, rotten and steep, and no hold. Here Reynaud and Macdonald confessed to being tired, and talked of going to sleep. A way was discovered out of the difficulty; then some one called out, “Look at the Viso!” and we saw that we almost looked over it. We worked away with redoubled energy, and at length caught sight of the head of the glacier as it streamed out of the plateau. This gave us fresh hopes; we were not deceived; and with a simultaneous shout we greeted the appearance of our long-wished-for snows. A large crevasse separated us from them; but a bridge was found; we tied ourselves in line, and moved safely over it. Directly we got across, there rose before us a fine snow-capped peak. Old Sémiond cried, “The pyramid! I see the pyramid!” “Where, Sémiond, where?” “There; on the top of that peak.” [Illustration: Outline to show route up Mont Pelvoux]