Both men were already there; wearing their rough tweed coats, with voluminous pockets inside and out, and their putties; while their heavily-nailed and well-greased boots waited to be drawn on the moment breakfast should be over. More than a hundred feet of rope lay coiled, ready for shouldering; and a couple of ice-axes leant against the wall. Maurice, who, as the less experienced climber, would play the part of porter, was in the act of tying up his ruck-sack, stored with provisions. Doris's spirits were fast rising; and she was surprised to find, not only the ever-taciturn Pressford, but also Maurice, in a silent mood. The latter surveyed her carefully, and knelt to examine the lacing of her boots. But he had no light chatter at command, and breakfast was eaten in sombre silence. She wondered—was this a part of the programme? Wisely, she fell in with their mental conditions. By half-past two they were off. Pressford, lantern in hand, took the lead, walking after his usual habit slightly in advance and apart, even when there was no need. Doris in her eagerness would have hurried ahead, not heeding one or two stumbles; but she was at once checked. "You must husband your powers," Maurice said. "Steady, please. Pressford will set the pace." She realised the wisdom of this later, when she found how she could keep on hour after hour at a swinging stride, with no tendency to flag. For some distance they followed the main road; and then came an easy rise by pathway, till they gained an upland, and by-and-by entered a pine-forest, where reigned pitchy darkness. When after a considerable time they emerged, it was upon a stony alp. Darkness made their footing here far from easy, since they had left all vestige of a path behind; and starlight gleams seconded but feebly the glimmer of their lantern. Not far from three hours after quitting the hotel, they reached the first belt of rocks. Here a pause was made for their first mountain breakfast,—that movable feast which goes on at intervals of two hours, until, on the way home, the climbers have "breakfast at afternoon tea." It was, as it always has to be, a light meal; consisting this time of bread and potted meat. Maurice found a comfortable seat for Doris, supplied her wants, and placed himself near. A few remarks passed; and with a gesture of his hand towards the east he said: "See! Dawn is coming." A bank of cloud lay low, and between it and the horizon, a pale grey glimmer had begun. As they gazed, a pink hue crept into the grey;—dim, indeterminate, a mere suggestion of what would follow. Yet in that tender gleam lived hope "sure and certain" of high noontide. They had to wait for it; but it would come!