get carried down by the onward movement of the snow-beds along the declivities.  This wood, therefore, suits all the requirements of the case.  In fact, the argument is for the case of a relic exceptionally strong:  the Crusaders who found the Holy Lance at Antioch, the archbishop who recognized the Holy Coat at Treves, not to speak of many others, proceeded upon slighter evidence.  I am, however, bound to admit that another explanation of the presence of this piece of timber on the rocks of this vast height did occur to me.  But as no man is bound to discredit his own relic, and such is certainly not the practice of the Armenian Church, I will not disturb my readers’ minds or yield to the rationalizing tendencies of the age by suggesting it.

Fearing that the ridge by which we were mounting would become too precipitous higher up, I turned off to the left, and crossed a long, narrow snow-slope that descended between this ridge and another line of rocks more to the west.  It was firm, and just steep enough to make steps cut in the snow comfortable, though not necessary; so the ice-axe was brought into use.  The Cossack who accompanied me—­there was but one now, for the other Cossack had gone away to the right some time before, and was quite lost to view—­had brought my friend’s alpenstock, and was developing a considerable capacity for wielding it.  He followed nimbly across; but the Kurd stopped on the edge of the snow, and stood peering and hesitating, like one who shivers on the plank at a bathing-place, nor could the jeering cries of the Cossack induce him to venture on the treacherous surface.  Meanwhile, we who had crossed were examining the broken cliff which rose above us.  It looked not exactly dangerous, but a little troublesome, as if it might want some care to get over or through.  So after a short rest I stood up, touched my Cossack’s arm, and pointed upward.  He reconnoitred the cliff with his eye, and shook his head.  Then, with various gestures of hopefulness, I clapped him on the back, and made as though to pull him along.  He looked at the rocks again and pointed, to them, stroked his knees, turned up and pointed to the soles of his boots, which certainly were suffering from the lava, and once more solemnly shook his head.  This was conclusive:  so I conveyed to him my pantomime that he had better go back to the bivouac where my friend was, rather than remain here alone, and that I hoped to meet him there in the evening; took an affectionate farewell, and turned towards the rocks.  There was evidently nothing for it but to go on alone.  It was half-past ten o’clock, and the height about thirteen thousand six hundred feet, Little Ararat now lying nearly one thousand feet below the eye.

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