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. . . busy strapping the bags on the horses, five bags to a horse 
timber line, above all growth of every 
kind, and encounter great patches of snow. 
Occasionally beyond the mass of rock and 
snow you catch a glimpse of your objective, 
the distant peak, and when you turn to look 
around you see between the ridges the 
world spreading out at your feet. 
Now you come to a great glacier. A mile 
and a-half wide, covered with snow, straight 
up it stretches before you, with the sun beat- 
ing down on it, dazzling your eyes. The 
wind has swept across the snow and left it 

in great ridges, just as though some great 
giant had spread out his hand with fingers 
widespread and pressed it deep in the snow. 
A few of the men go ahead and, looking 
out aroutefromridgeto ridge, break the way. 
It is like trying to walk on the ties of a rail- 
road track; at first you get along bravely, 
but the high altitude makes the breath 
come quickly and the gleaming snow makes 
the footing uncertain. Soon you become so 
uncertain of your footing that you are con- 
tinually missing the next ridge and falling 
