CHAPTER II.
"Around his waist are forests braced,
The Avalanche in his hand."
"Friend! have a care,
Your next step may be fatal!—for the love
Of Him who made you, stand not on that brink!"
The day broke bright and clear, and at six we were introduced by François to his friend, Jules Tairraz, who looked very business-like with a knapsack on his back and carrying an ice-axe and a coil of rope. The mule having overslept himself, we went on without him, and awaited his arrival under the trees at the foot of the mountain. At last the lazy brute hove in sight, walking in his usual style; then our coats, the knapsack, rope, etc., were strapped on, and by way of adding to his comfort I got into the saddle, and thus the ascent was begun.
The route lay through the forest des Pélerins, and for some distance ran parallel with the Arve, crossing the torrents which flow into that river, over picturesque wooden bridges. Then, on approaching the lower extremity of the Glacier des Bossons, it wound to the left and zig-zagged up the base of the mountain.