This ricochet practice was a novelty to me. It arose, of course, from the couloir being bent, and from the falling rocks having acquired great pace before they passed the angle. In straight gullies it will probably never be experienced. The rule is, as I have already remarked, that falling stones keep down the centres of gullies, and you are out of harm’s way if you follow the sides.
MY TENT-BEARER—THE HUNCHBACK.
There would have been singularly little amusement and very great risk in mounting this gully, and we turned our backs upon it with perfect unanimity. The question then arose, “What is to be done?” I suggested climbing the rocks above us, but this was voted impossible. I thought the men were right, but would not give in without being assured of the fact, and clambered up to settle the question. In a few minutes I was brought to a halt. My forces were scattered: the little hunchback alone was closely following me, with a broad grin upon his face and the tent upon his shoulder; Croz, more behind, was still keeping an eye upon his Monsieur; Almer, a hundred feet below, sat on a rock with his face buried in his hands; Biener was nowhere, out of sight. “Come down, come down,” shouted Croz, “it is useless;” and I turned at length, convinced that it was even as he said. Thus my little plan was knocked on the head, and we were thrown back upon the original scheme.
We at once made a straight track for Mr. Morshead’s Breuiljoch (which was the most direct route to take in order to get to the Hörnli, where we intended to sleep, preparatory to attacking the eastern face), and arrived upon its summit at 12.30 P.M. We were then unexpectedly checked. The pass, as one, had vanished! and we found ourselves cut off from the Furggengletscher by a small but precipitous wall of rock: the glacier had shrunk so much that descent was impracticable. During the last hour clouds had been coming up from the south: they now surrounded us, and il began to blow hard. The men clustered together, and advocated leaving the mountain alone. Almer asked, with more point than politeness, “Why don’t you try to go up a mountain which can be ascended?” “It is impossible,” chimed in Biener. “Sir,” said Croz, “if we cross to the other side we shall lose three days, and very likely shall not succeed. You want to make ascents in the chain of Mont Blanc, and I believe they can be made. But I shall not be able to make them with you if I spend these days here, for I must be at Chamounix on the 27th.” There was force in what he said, and his words made me hesitate. I relied upon his strong arms for some work which it was expected would be unusually difficult. Snow began to fall: that settled the matter, and I gave the word to retreat. We went back to Breuil, and on to Val Tournanche, where we slept; and the next day proceeded to Chatillon, and thence up the valley of Aosto to Cormayeur.
I cannot but regret that the counsels of the guides prevailed. If Croz had not uttered his well-intentioned words he might still have been living. He parted from us at Chamounix at the appointed time, but by a strange chance we met again at Zermatt three weeks later; and two days afterward he perished before my eyes on the very mountain from which we turned away, at his advice on the 21st of June.
CHAPTER XVI.
VALLEY OF AOSTA, AND ASCENT OF THE GRANDES JORASSES.
The valley of Aosta is famous for its bouquetins and infamous for its crétins. The bouquetin, steinbock, or ibex, was formerly widely distributed throughout the Alps. It is now confined almost entirely, or absolutely, to a small district in the south of the valley of Aosta, and fears have been repeatedly expressed in late years that it will speedily become extinct.
But the most sanguine person does not imagine that crétinism will be eradicated for many generations. It is widely spread throughout the Alps, it is by no means peculiar to the valley of Aosta, but nowhere does it thrust itself more frequently upon the attention of the traveler, and in no valley where “every prospect pleases” is one so often and so painfully reminded that “only man is vile.”