Prom the vast boss which constitutes the lower portion of Monte Rosa cliffy edges run upward to the summit.  Were the snow removed from these we should, I doubt not, see them as toothed or serrated crags, justifying the term “kamm,” or “comb,” applied to such edges by the Germans.  Our way now lay along such a “kamm,” the cliffs of which had, however, caught the snow, and been completely covered by it, forming an edge like the ridge of a house-roof, which sloped steeply upward.  On the Lyskamm side of the edge there was no footing, and if a human body fell over here, it would probably pass through a vertical space of some thousands of feet, falling or rolling, before coming to rest.  On the other side the snow-slope was less steep, but excessively perilous-looking, and intersected by precipices of ice.  Dense clouds now enveloped us, and made our position far uglier than if it had been fairly illuminated.  The valley below us was one vast cauldron, filled with precipitated vapor, which came seething at times up the sides of the mountain.  Sometimes this fog would clear away, and the light would gleam from the dislocated glaciers.  My guide continually admonished me to make my footing sure, and to fix at each step my staff firmly in the consolidated snow.  At one place, for a short steep ascent, the slope became hard ice, and our position a very ticklish one.  We hewed our steps as we moved upward, but were soon glad to deviate from the ice to a position scarcely less awkward.  The wind had so acted upon the snow as to fold it over the edge of the kamm, thus causing it to form a kind of cornice, which overhung the precipice on the Lyskamm side of the mountain.  This cornice now bore our weight; its snow had become somewhat firm, but it was yielding enough to permit the feet to sink in it a little way, and thus secure us at least against the danger of slipping.  Here, also, at each step we drove our batons firmly into the snow, availing ourselves of whatever help they could render.

Once, while thus securing my anchorage, the handle of my hatchet went right through the cornice on which we stood, and, on withdrawing it, I could see through the aperture into the cloud-crammed gulf below.  We continued ascending until we reached a rock protruding from the snow, and here we halted for a few minutes.  Lauener looked upward through the fog.  “According to all description,” he observed, “this ought to be the last kamm of the mountain; but in this obscurity we can see nothing.”  Snow began to fall, and we recommenced our journey, quitting the rocks and climbing again along the edge.  Another hour brought us to a crest of cliffs, at which, to our comfort, the kamm appeared to cease, and other climbing qualities were demanded of us.

On the Lyskamm side, as I have said, rescue would be out of the question, should the climber go over the edge.  On the other side of the edge rescue seemed possible, tho’ the slope, as stated already, was most dangerously steep.  I now asked Lauener what he would have done, supposing my footing to have failed on the latter slope.  He did not seem to like the question, but said that he should have considered well for a moment and then have sprung after me; but he exhorted me to drive all such thoughts away.  I laughed at him, and this did more to set his mind at rest than any formal profession of courage could have done.