It was only about forty-five or fifty feet high, and
somewhat roughened by fissures and projections; but these seemed so
slight and insecure, as footholds, that I tried hard to avoid the
precipice altogether, by scaling the wall of the channel on either side.
But, though less steep, the walls were smoother than the obstructing
rock, and repeated efforts only showed that I must either go right ahead
or turn back. The tried dangers beneath seemed even greater than that of
the cliff in front; therefore, after scanning its face again and again,
I began to scale it, picking my holds with intense caution. After
gaining a point about halfway to the top, I was suddenly brought to a
dead stop, with arms outspread, clinging close to the face of the rock,
unable to move hand or foot either up or down. My doom appeared fixed. I
_must_ fall. There would be a moment of bewilderment, and then a
lifeless rumble down the one general precipice to the glacier below.
When this final danger flashed upon me, I became nerve-shaken for the
first time since setting foot on the mountains, and my mind seemed to
fill with a stifling smoke. But this terrible eclipse lasted only a
moment, when life blazed forth again with preternatural clearness.
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