64 Historical 



thermometer stood at — 0.3° C, and — 2° C. an hour later. In spite of a 

 good fire and our blankets, our sleep was uneasy and rested us but 

 little; the Indians, on the contrary, slept like logs, and the next day 

 they were up early, in good health and spirits, while we were stret- 

 ching our limbs and looking surly. 



Wednesday, January 21, at five o'clock in the morning, everyone 

 mounted and set out in silence; the Indians followed on foot. The cold 

 was so penetrating that in spite of our thick garments we vied with 

 each other in shivering. A quarter of an hour afterwards, we left the 

 wood and approached the sandy stretch, going straight towards the 

 steep slope of the volcano. The horses sank up to their hocks, going 

 on slowly and painfully. Soon we had to stop frequently to let them 

 breathe, for the air was so stinging and the path so steep that they 

 could hardly get their breath. 



At half past eight we reached La Cruz (4290 meters). The horses 

 were worn out, covered with sweat, panting. We dismounted and 

 sent them back to Tlacamas. Numbed by the cold, we rested a little 

 while on the sand warmed by the sun whose heat began to be scorch- 

 ing. 



At nine o'clock, each one started out, his alpenstock in his hand, 

 following our Indian guide, Angel, who with his feet wrapped in some 

 rags, led the way with a step remarkably easy compared with ours. 



We followed him with difficulty, in spite of the care we had taken 

 to lighten our garments and footgear as much as possible. Soon we 

 reached a strip of ice which precedes the snow. It was crossed without 

 too many difficulties, thanks to the notches cut with an axe by an In- 

 dian sent on ahead with orders to blaze a trail up to the summit of 

 the volcano. 



At the line of perpetual snow (4400 meters on the slope at this 

 season of the year) I began to feel acute fatigue. I was wet with sweat, 

 my breath was short and hurried, and it seemed to me as if enormous 

 weights were fastened to my feet. Near me, a Mexican from Amecam- 

 eca, named Saturnino Perez, who wanted to accompany us, was climb- 

 ing with a stronger step; but his pale face, his bluish lips, his wild eyes, 

 the contraction of his mouth, and the dilation of his nostrils showed 

 plainly enough the effects of the altitude upon his constitution, hardy 

 and robust though it was. The slope was steep, it is true; but as the 

 snow was packed, we experienced less difficulty in advancing than if 

 we had been on sand or ice. Only the air was so thin, so dry, so cold, 

 that this advantage was more than compensated. 



Soon, since our strength failed, we had to halt, a very short halt, 

 for the cold seized us straightway. Every forty or fifty steps we were 

 forced to stop for a minute or two. Our lungs seemed to refuse to act; 

 they hardly had the strength to raise the chest, which collapsed heav- 

 ily after each inspiration. 



At 300 or 400 meters from the summit, there was a moment of hesi- 

 tation, of prostration. Although so near, our goal seemed still enor- 

 mously far away. The extremely steep grade, the metallic glare of the 

 snow, the rarity of the air caused me inexpressible weakness. So I had 

 to collect all my energy, appeal to all my reasoning power, and think 

 of my responsibility in particular to find strength to go on. 



