A FEARFUL PASSAGE. 233

sulliciently to conceal whatever might be the state
of affairs on the other side, round which it was
necessary to pass by a narrow ledge like a mantel-
piece, on which the first guide had now placed his
foot. The distance, however, was inconsiderable—
at most a few yards—after which I fondly conjec-
tured we might rejoin a pathway similar to that
we were now quitting, and that, in fact, this shor¢
but fearful trajet constituted the substance and the
sum total of what so richly deserved the title of
the Mauvais Pas. ‘Be firm; hold fast, and keep
your eye on the rock,’ said the guide, as I, with my
heart in my mouth, stepped out. ‘Is my foot
firmly fixed?’ ‘It is’ was the answer; and with
my eyes fixed upon the rock, as if it would have
opened under my gaze, and my hands hooked like
claws on the slight protuberances within reach, I
stole silently and slowly towards the projection,
almost without drawing a breath. Having turned
this point, I still found myself proceeding, but to
what degree, and whether for better or worse, I
could not exactly ascertain, as | most pertinaciously
continued to look upon the rock, mechanically mov-
ing foot after foot with a sort of dogged persever-
ance, leaving to the leading guide the pleasing
task, which I most anxiously expected every mo-
ment, of assuring me that the deed was done, and
congratulating me on having passed the Mauvats