She had never seen anything so somber, so sinister, as that precipitous curtain of rock and its riband of ice.

It looked like a white band painted on a black wall.
"It looks very dangerous," she said, slowly.
"It needs care," said Chayne.
"Especially this year when there is so little snow," added Sylvia.
"Yes.

Twelve hundred feet of ice at an angle of fifty degrees." "And the bergschrund's just beneath." "Yes, you must not slip on the Col Dolent," said he, quietly.
Sylvia was silent a little while.

Then she said with a slight hesitation: "And you cross that pass to-day ?" There was still more hesitation in Chayne's voice as he answered: "Well, no! You see, this is your first mountain.

And you have only two guides." Sylvia looked at him seriously.
"How many should I have taken for the Aiguille d'Argentiere?
Twelve ?" Chayne smiled feebly.
"Well, no," and his confusion increased.