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210 we hurriedly roped, for there were only four hours till nightfall and it had taken eight to make the ascent. Clouds were whirling about us now, and a storm was evidently coming on.

How we made the nerve-racking descent of that arête, and how once the front of our line went into one of those crevasses and was rescued, cannot be related here. Let it suffice that after a mad race with night and fog over the glaciers, we returned to camp, exhausted. One more night, and the worst, was spent in that desert spot, for all the elements seemed running riot, and our firewood was used up. In the morning we bade farewell to our never-to-be-forgotten camp, and set off home by the route we had come. Observation Point was reached, and then began the long tedious descent to the Tsee-Ki canyons. It rained in torrents, we lost our way and got entangled in a maze of cliffs. Several of these we overcame by sliding down our ropes, finally reaching the Tsee-Ki; and at 5 o'clock we stood on the Squamish road and were soon safe in our log house again.

Wednesday, the eighth day out, broke as clear and bright as ever a day seen by man, and we set off early down the country road on a farm wagon. Quietly we drove through that lovely valley, among its farms with their peaceful green lands and happy faces; above, the blue sky with a fringe of snow peaks.

Ten miles brought us to the sea where the little steamer "Britannia" waited. Then we bade farewell to Squamish and her "White-headed Baldi," and were homeward-bound.

The next four hours were spent steaming down that grand old fiord, Howe Sound, and at sunset we entered Vancouver harbor.