anxiously inquired, and the answer came back almost at once.

"Yes; this locks feasible, but it's frightfully exposed. Can you come out and steady me up the first part?"

Bartrum then came up to the bridge to allow me sufficient rope to pass along, and I then traversed outward. The situation was very fine. The wall of the gully at the end of the ledge formed a rough ridge, on the outer side of which the rocks plunged down sheer into the corrie. The way lay straight up this ridge, and was very steep. Harland climbed carefully upward, testing each hold as he went, and "holding fast that which was good," for here the rock seemed to deteriorate a little, until, when about 30 feet above me, he was able to step across to the right on to the capstone of the pitch. I immediately followed in his steps, and found the climbing easier than I had anticipated. The trouble lay more in the effect exerted on the nerves than in any intrinsic difficulty, although one steep bulge about half-way up still dwells in my memory.

When Bartrum arrived we were surprised to find that he carried the camera. It appeared that his companion thought the pitch ought to be climbed straight upward from the bridge, and was anxious to see how it would go with the rope held from above. We accordingly proceeded to make ourselves comfortable, and took in the rope, while our rear man disported himself lower down. He revels in a good chimney, and has a fine knack in "backing up," but his progress for some time was slow, in spite of the strenuousness of his

efforts. Presently he came nearer; then we heard his boot-nails on the rocks, and shortly afterwards a very red face appeared over the edge, emitting as it came an urgent request to "keep the rope in." He was evidently nearly exhausted. Another yard or two brought him to our level, breathless. He had not actually used the rope, but gave it as his opinion that it would not be a nice place up which to lead. We agreed with him. A stretch of 30 feet of "backing up" between walls which are almost devoid of holds makes too much call upon the endurance, be a man's skill what it may, and following parties will probably favour the way via the ledge.

Above this pitch the climbing became easier for a while, but never lost interest. It strongly reminded us of the best parts of the Intermediate Gully on Dow Crags. There was the same smooth, clean rock, entirely free from vegetation and loose stones. A feature of this section was the huge slab which formed the right wall of the gully, springing upward unbroken for a visible height of well over 200 feet. The neatest pitch hereabouts was a 35-foot chimney, which could be climbed in orthodox fashion throughout, with the feet on the left wall and the back on the other.

Above this the gully widened considerably until, a short distance higher, it landed us out on the wide rocky terrace known as the Foxes' Rake. This we had anticipated when we started at the foot of the gully, but had hoped that the upper continuation would prove vulnerable, and that the two sections would combine to form a continuous climb.

We came out of the lower gully all anxiety to know what lay ahead, and each emerged with the same thought uppermost. It found expres

sion in the exclamation, "Well, what's it like?"

"That's it," replied those above, pointing upward across the rake. Each was left to draw his own conclusion; and even the most rash of us was somewhat taken aback. And not without cause, for two thin vertical cracks, each about 40 feet high, and both overhanging at the bottom, were what we saw.1 These converged at their upper extremities into a small cave, which also overhung. Above this rose the narrow continuation of the gully, which dwindled again higher up to an overhanging crack which scarcely needed a second glance before being pronounced unclimbable.

Added to these difficulties was the consideration of time. It was already 7.30, but, as one of us remarked, it would do us no harm to pass the night out! Truly, an enforced week's idleness in an hotel begets much enthusiasm. This point settled, we sat down on the terrace and studied the cracks. The left-hand one certainly looked the more encouraging. It would at any rate make a good photograph. I jocularly proposed to Harland that if he would go and climb it I would stay below and take him in the act.

He turned inquiringly to Bartrum, who agreed to sacrifice his shoulders in a good cause. Together they accordingly moved across the rake

The photo opposite gives a good idea of the topography of this pitch, but, being taken from underneath, it is necessarily foreshortened, and the steepness minimised.