THE ALUMNI JOURNAL 



163 



the air colder. Fifteen minutes passed, 

 half an hour. "Are sve there now?" 

 "Just a stone's throw," was the reply. 

 Again we plied on our laborious crawl, 

 holding on to the ledges lest we topple 

 over, or sprawling on our stomachs, 

 while the guide above pulled us up by 

 the arms. 



Suddenly Moss dropped and gasped 

 for breath. He was the picture of re- 

 signed misery. "Boys," he said, "leave 

 me here to die; good-bye." I rushed to 

 a spot where I heard water trickling 

 and gave him a draught ot the cold 

 liquid and a drink of cognac. "The hut 

 is just ahead," said the guide, but alas ! 

 we had reached a high snowbank and 

 nothing remained for us to do but to dig 

 footsteps with our picks and pull our- 

 selves up. We should have reached the 

 hut at eleven o'clock and it was now one 

 a. m. It seemed to me as if night never 

 would end. 



Finally we reached the top of the 

 snowbank — "the hut ! the hut 1" shouted 

 the guides, and we gave a loud cry of 

 delight. Hope gave us new life. The 

 guides told me the hut contained nothing 

 but a little straw, a small stove and a 

 few tin cups and plates. At last our 

 haven of shelter loomed out of the dark- 

 ness. We rushed for it, and — found the 

 door locked ! What did this mean ? 

 We pounded and a voice answered, the 

 door opened, and I tell prostrate in a 

 swoon I 



I rememberd nothing more until I 

 realized that one of the guides knelt over 

 me trying to make me partake of some 

 hot pea soup he had just prepared. My 

 body shook with chills. I was covered 

 with straw and overcoats, and soon a 

 heavy perspiration told me the crisis 

 was past. But the anguish of mind as 

 I thought of pneumonia and of a possi- 

 ble death, and of the beloved ones at 

 home ! I fell into a profound slumber 



and awoke at about five o'clock in the 

 morning. 



It was then that I learned that the in- 

 habitant of the hut was a Scotchman who 

 had journeyed from Grindlewald and 

 was now in the hut three days awaiting 

 a favorable opportunity to reach the sum- 

 mit, 4,000 feet above. When I told him 

 Grindlewald was burned to the ground, 

 he turned ghastly pale, for here he was, 

 far up on a mountain peak, away from 

 home, amidst strangers, and without 

 monev or clothes, for everything had 

 been burned in the hotel. My pity went 

 out for the poor fellow. 



Lifting the latch, I went outside to 

 get my first glimpse from the high alti- 

 tude. A gust of wind banged the door 

 and I retreated. Carefully emerging, I 

 clung to the side of the hut, lest I be 

 blown away, and gazed about me. I was 

 stupefied. As far as the eye could reach 

 nothing but huge, irregular masses of 

 ice and snow piled up in immense 

 mountains, some split with deep ravines 

 forming valleys and gulches of snow. 

 Above me rose the peak of the Jungfrau, 

 4,600 feet from where I stood, and I 

 longed to reach the top. It is a human 

 failing to try to reach high altitude, 

 even if nothing substantial is gained 

 thereby. Consequently I asked the 

 guides to take me up, but they refused, 

 saying the wind was too strong and that 

 a snow storm was coming on. But I in- 

 sisted and finally won their consent, 

 Moss and Henderson remaining in the 

 hut. 



We tied our trousers at the ankles, the 

 coats at the wrists, put on double over- 

 coats, tied our caps to the head, and 

 with ropes around our bodies and with 

 our picks, we began to climb. The 

 wind was so strong that I was contin- 

 ually thrown off my feet, but the guides 

 saved me. Small pieces of disintegrated 

 rock were blown through the air, and I 



