When we arrived at these moraines, we had a choice of two routes. One, continuing to the east, over the moraines themselves, the débris above them, and a large snow-bed still higher up, to a kind of _col_ or depression to the _south_ of the peak, from whence an easy ridge led towards the summit. The other, over a shrunken glacier on our north-east (now, perhaps, not in existence), which led to a well-marked _col_ on the _north_ of the peak, from whence a less easy ridge rose directly to the highest point. We followed the first named of these routes, and in little more than half-an-hour stood upon the Col, which commanded a most glorious view of the southern side of Monte Rosa, and of the ranges to its east, and to the east of the Val d’Ayas. [Illustration: “THEY SCATTERED IN A PANIC WHEN SALUTED BY THE CRIES OF MY EXCITED COMRADE.”] Whilst we were resting at this point, a large party of vagrant chamois arrived on the summit of the mountain from the northern side, some of whom—by their statuesque position—seemed to appreciate the grand panorama by which they were surrounded, while others amused themselves, like two-legged tourists, in rolling stones over the cliffs. The clatter of these falling fragments made us look up. The chamois were so numerous that we could not count them, and clustered around the summit, totally unaware of our presence. They scattered in a panic, as if a shell had burst amongst them, when saluted by the cries of my excited comrade; and plunged wildly down in several directions, with unfaltering and unerring bounds, with such speed and with such grace that we were filled with admiration and respect for their mountaineering abilities.