How he came over I do not know. We saw a toe—it seemed [pg 174]to belong to Moore; we saw Reynaud a flying body, coming down as if taking a header into water; with arms and legs all abroad, his leg of mutton flying in the air, his bâton escaped from his grasp; and then we heard a thud as if a bundle of carpets had been pitched out of a window. When set upon his feet he was a sorry spectacle; his head was a great snowball; brandy was trickling out of one side of the knapsack, chartreuse out of the other—we bemoaned its loss, but we roared with laughter.
This chapter has already passed the limits within which it should have been confined, but I cannot close it without paying tribute to the ability with which Croz led us, through a dense mist, down the remainder of the Glacier de Pilatte. As an exhibition of strength and skill, it has probably never been surpassed in the Alps or elsewhere. On this almost unknown and very steep glacier, he was perfectly at home, even in the mists. Never able to see fifty feet ahead, he still went on with the utmost certainty, and without having to retrace a single step; and displayed from first to last consummate knowledge of the materials with which he was dealing. Now he cut steps down one side of a sérac, went with a dash at the other side, and hauled us up after him; then cut away along a ridge until a point was gained from which we could jump on to another ridge; then, doubling back, found a snow-bridge, across which he crawled on hands and knees, towed us across by the legs, ridiculing our apprehensions, mimicking our awkwardness, declining all help, bidding us only to follow him.
About 1 P.M. we emerged from the mist and found ourselves just arrived upon the level portion of the glacier, having, as Reynaud properly remarked, come down as quickly as if there had not been any mist at all. Then we attacked the leg of mutton which my friend had so thoughtfully brought with him, and afterwards raced down, with renewed energy, to La Bérarde.
Reynaud and I walked together to St. Christophe, where we parted. Since then we have talked over the doings of this [pg 175]momentous day; and I know that he would not, for a good deal, have missed the passage of the Col de Pilatte, although we failed to make it an easier or a shorter route than the Col du Selé. I rejoined Moore and Walker, the same evening, at Venos, and on the next day went with them over the Lautaret road to the hospice on its summit, where we slept.
So our little campaign in Dauphiné came to an end. It was remarkable for the absence of failures, and for the ease and precision with which all our plans were carried out. This was due very much to the spirit of my companions; but it was also owing to the fine weather which we were fortunate enough to enjoy, and to our making a very early start every morning. By beginning our work at or before the break of day, on the longest days in the year, we were not only able to avoid hurrying when deliberation was desirable, but could afford to spend several hours in delightful ease whenever the fancy seized us.
I cannot too strongly recommend to tourists in search of amusement to avoid the inns of Dauphiné. Sleep in the chalets. Get what food you can from the inns, but do not as a rule attempt to pass nights in them.[123] Sleep in them you cannot. M. Joanne says that the inventor of the insecticide powder was a native of Dauphiné. I can well believe it. He must have often felt the necessity of such an invention in his infancy and childhood.
On June 29 I crossed the Col du Galibier to St. Michel; on the 30th, the Col des Encombres to Moutiers; on July 1, the Col du Bonhomme to Contamines; and on the 2d, by the Pavilion de Bellevue to Chamounix, where I joined Mr. Adams-Reilly to take part in some expeditions which had been planned long before.