Part 7 As they came back from that day’s climb—it was up the Mittaghorn—they had to cross a shining space of wet, steep rocks between two grass slopes that needed a little care. Oh, it is unbearable. The Leads 405 XXI. Her fingers found the lump she sought and, with a little effort, she dragged out the black-wrapped foil. They went to the gate and stopped there, gabbed with their men, and didn’t even dismount. I consider even now that the present colour is far less becoming. I say, I'll take the yarn over and read it to McClintock. Bah.
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