168 LIFE OF HORACE BENEDICT BE SAUSSURE 



unhappy man who should fall on them. Still the path is firm and 

 smooth, and the slope towards the cliff is not so steep but that if 

 unlucky enough to slip one might hope to stop oneself. But here 

 and there the path narrows, passes across rocky slabs, and the abrupt- 

 ness of the slope no longer leaves any hope of recovering a false 

 step. At each bad place of this sort we asked the guide if it was the 

 worst. He answered, " This is nothing ; what is to come is a hundred 

 times worse." At this juncture we met an old shepherd who for 

 forty years had guarded the sheep and goats, the only animals which 

 can penetrate into those recesses, forbidden to all creatures which have 

 not good heads and sure feet. I had been told of this shepherd, and 

 as our guide seemed quite a novice, I begged the shepherd to turn 

 back with us and act as leader. He was on his way down to Grindel- 

 wald with a load of goats' milk, and he did not like turning back ; still 

 he made up his mind to do so, hid his milk behind a rock, and came 

 with us. 



' About the middle of the bad path we found in a hollow a small 

 spring which fell from the rocks and had worn itself a basin at their 

 feet, in which the water was so clear and beautiful that the spot tempted 

 us to rest and recover our force. After some twenty minutes we set 

 out and had another three-quarters of an hour on this path, which 

 at times became very risky, but there was always foothold, and the 

 anticipation I had formed made me find the reality quite tolerable. 

 At last we reached the level of the more gently sloping portion of the 

 glacier. It was now necessary to scramble on to it and traverse it to the 

 end of the ice valley where our shepherd's hut was. In order to get 

 on the glacier, we had to climb on to the ridge of an enormous rib of 

 ice which had horribly precipitous sides. The old shepherd seized 

 an axe which he was in the habit of leaving there for the purpose and 

 began cutting steps along the ridge. While waiting I looked to see 

 if there was any way of avoiding this awkward passage, but in vain 

 everywhere else bottomless crevasses cut us off from the glacier. This 

 isthmus was the only bridge there was between us and the Mer de 

 Glace. I let, therefore, the shepherd finish his staircase. That accom- 

 plished, he gallantly offered me his hand, and I marched with firm 

 steps for in places of this kind one must either not go at all or advance 

 boldly and so reached the level of the glacier. 



' We had still on the ice several places not so bad as this but not 

 quite without risk, then the rest of the way was perfectly easy. The 

 glacier, though steep, had no more crevasses. It was covered with 

 blocks of primitive rocks, among which I did not see a single bit of 

 limestone, but everywhere fragments mixed with sckistes d'amiante, 



