Hardly an hour had passed since we left the Col before we arrived at the “Chimney.” It proved to be the counterpart of the place to which reference has been made at p. 3; a smooth, straight slab of rock was fixed, at a considerable angle, between two others equally smooth.(45) My companion essayed to go up, and, after crumpling his long body into many ridiculous positions, he said that he would not, for he could not, do it. With some little trouble I got up it unassisted, and then my guide tied himself on to the end of our rope, and I endeavoured to pull him up. But he was so awkward that he did little for himself, and so heavy that he proved too much for me, and after several attempts he untied himself, and quietly observed that he should go down. I told him he was a coward, and _he_ mentioned his opinion of me. I requested him to go to Breil, and to say that he had left his “monsieur” on the mountain, and he turned to go; whereupon I had to eat humble pie and ask him to come back; for, although it was not very difficult to go up, and not at all dangerous with a man standing below, it was quite another thing to come down, as the lower edge overhung in a provoking manner. The day was perfect; the sun was pouring down grateful warmth; the wind had fallen; the way seemed clear, no insuperable obstacle was in sight; yet what could one do alone? I stood on the top, chafing under this unexpected contretemps, and remained for some time irresolute; but as it became apparent that the Chimney was swept more frequently than was necessary (it was a natural channel for falling stones), I turned at last, descended with the assistance of my companion, and returned with him to Breil, where we arrived about mid-day. The Carrels did not show themselves, but we were told that they had not got to any great height,(46) and that the “comrade,” who for convenience had taken off his shoes and tied them round his waist, had managed to let one of them slip, and had come down with a piece of cord fastened round his naked foot. Notwithstanding this, they had boldly glissaded down the Couloir du Lion, J. J. Carrel having his shoeless foot tied up in a pocket handkerchief. The Matterhorn was not assailed again in 1861. I left Breil with the conviction that it was little use for a single tourist to organise an attack upon it, so great was its influence on the morals of the guides, and persuaded that it was desirable at least two should go, to back each other when required: and departed with my guide(47) over the Col Théodule, longing, more than before, to make the ascent, and determined to return, if possible with a companion, to lay siege to the mountain until one or the other was vanquished. CHAPTER IV. RENEWED ATTEMPTS TO ASCEND THE MATTERHORN.