A TRAMP ABROAD By Mark Twain

The slope eased off, at length we could be detached,

and Croz and I, dashed away, ran a neck-and-neck race,

which ended in a dead heat. At 1:40 P.M., the world was at

our feet, and the Matterhorn was conquered!

The others arrived. Croz now took the tent-pole, and

planted it in the highest snow. “Yes,” we said, “there is

the flag-staff, but where is the flag?” “Here it is,”

he answered, pulling off his blouse and fixing it to the stick.

It made a poor flag, and there was no wind to float it out,

yet it was seen all around. They saw it at Zermatt–at

the Riffel–in the Val Tournanche… .

We remained on the summit for one hour–

One crowded hour of glorious life.

It passed away too quickly, and we began to prepare

for the descent.

Hudson and I consulted as to the best and safest arrangement

of the party. We agreed that it was best for Croz

to go first, and Hadow second; Hudson, who was almost

equal to a guide in sureness of foot, wished to be third;

Lord Douglas was placed next, and old Peter, the strongest

of the remainder, after him. I suggested to Hudson

that we should attach a rope to the rocks on our arrival

at the difficult bit, and hold it as we descended,

as an additional protection. He approved the idea,

but it was not definitely decided that it should be done.

The party was being arranged in the above order while I

was sketching the summit, and they had finished,

and were waiting for me to be tied in line, when some one

remembered that our names had not been left in a bottle.

They requested me to write them down, and moved off

while it was being done.

A few minutes afterward I tied myself to young Peter,

ran down after the others, and caught them just as they

were commencing the descent of the difficult part.

Great care was being taken. Only one man was moving at a time;

when he was firmly planted the next advanced, and so on.

They had not, however, attached the additional rope

to rocks, and nothing was said about it. The suggestion

was not made for my own sake, and I am not sure that it

ever occurred to me again. For some little distance we

two followed the others, detached from them, and should

have continued so had not Lord Douglas asked me, about 3

P.M., to tie on to old Peter, as he feared, he said,

that Taugwalder would not be able to hold his ground if a

slip occurred.

A few minutes later, a sharp-eyed lad ran into the Monte

Rosa Hotel, at Zermatt, saying that he had seen an avalanche

fall from the summit of the Matterhorn onto the Matterhorn

glacier. The boy was reproved for telling idle stories;

he was right, nevertheless, and this was what he saw.

Michel Croz had laid aside his ax, and in order to give

Mr. Hadow greater security, was absolutely taking

hold of his legs, and putting his feet, one by one,

into their proper positions. As far as I know, no one

was actually descending. I cannot speak with certainty,

because the two leading men were partially hidden

from my sight by an intervening mass of rock, but it

is my belief, from the movements of their shoulders,

that Croz, having done as I said, was in the act

of turning round to go down a step or two himself;

at this moment Mr. Hadow slipped, fell against him,

and knocked him over. I heard one startled exclamation

from Croz, then saw him and Mr. Hadow flying downward;

in another moment Hudson was dragged from his steps,

and Lord Douglas immediately after him. All this was the

work of a moment. Immediately we heard Croz’s exclamation,

old Peter and I planted ourselves as firmly as the rocks

would permit; the rope was taut between us, and the jerk

came on us both as on one man. We held; but the rope

broke midway between Taugwalder and Lord Francis Douglas.

For a few seconds we saw our unfortunate companions sliding