This ascent was at an angle of about fifty degrees, and was nothing but the rough, pathless side of a hill, clothed often with thick brushwood, through which we had to fight our way with many slaps in the face. There was no shade, and we began to melt away, as we strove, panting and exhausted, to follow the guide's pitiless strides. I fancy he wished to pay us out for our walking proclivities, or perhaps fancied that, as we were so energetic, no pace could kill us; anyhow, he showed no mercy, and only paused once or twice in that dreadful hour's climb, to permit us to rest our weary limbs and gather up exhausted breath, on some mossy giant, lying felled across the way.
The last bit was the worst of all. It was little better than an upright wall of snow, up which we tacked, mounting painfully, more or less of us disappearing at every footstep.
At its conclusion, however, we found ourselves once more on the desolate Bocca, our patient, hungry mules still standing where we had left them. Even a man's saddle appeared luxurious to such weary wayfarers; and we began to jog joyfully down the incline.
We had mildly but firmly informed the guide that we preferred not descending by the vertical stone-strewn path up which we had come in the morning; so we were to return by the "grande route," notwithstanding its snow.
Very soon after leaving the wind and rain-swept Bocca, we came to a deep drift of this, and had to dismount hastily.
The snow was only half frozen, and the mules plunged in up to their stomachs, whilst Colonna groaned reproachfully, "Ah! my beasts will break their legs! I told you the road was not passable!"
However, they did not break their legs, and, as anything short of a fly must infallibly have broken its neck upon the other path, we did not take blame to ourselves for the slight risk.
We, not being so heavy, got on a little better, but not without many ridiculous plunges into the yielding snow, as we emerged from this drift into another, and yet another.
We were descending, however, the whole time rapidly, and presently the snow became patchy, and by degrees disappeared; and we mounted our unharmed beasts, and finished the last three or four miles to the forestier's house, riding. It was only about four o'clock, but the sun had already set behind the high mountain peaks surrounding us on every side; and, as we returned in single file, a silent procession along the narrow path, the forest voices sounded ghostly in the early grey of evening; whilst through the dark lines of stately pines, the solemn mountains, bathed in mist below, raised each his cold blanched peak of snow on high, like the face of a corpse surrounded by its shroud.
At the forestier's, the faithful Antonio was in waiting for us, and in a few minutes we were speeding down the steep and winding road through Aïtone and on to Evisa.