196

VAL PRESANELLA.

small mercies, and in fact felt much relieved at thishappy issue of a dilemma which might easily havebecome serious. Soon after three o’clock the cloudsgrew gradually lighter, the sun struggled through, andpatches of blue broke the leaden monotony of the sky.No more watery storms swept down from the Tonale,but a steady northern breeze carried away the vapours,except one or two unfortunates which had sunk sodeep into the valley that they could not find the wayout again. We hurried our dinner, got together ourprovisions, and sent the porter to look for a rope—anecessary which we were too young in Alpine travel tohave brought with us from England, according to thecustom of experienced mountaineers. Vermiglio didnot possess a cord more than thirty feet long; hut aftera good deal of delay some leather thongs were procured,and about 5 p.m. we finally got off, leaving thedouaniers to look out at their leisure for our expectedreturn.

Instead of remounting the Tonale road we kept bythe side of the river for half-an-hour, until it was joinedby the torrent from the lateral glen which we hadpassed in the morning. A well-made path led up asteep hillside covered with bilberries and Alpine straw-berries, and turned some precipitous rocks by pic-turesque wooden galleries.

After passing a group of charcoal-burners’ huts theascent ceased, and winding round a wooded brow weentered a secluded basin shut in by steep ridges, wherethe stream rested for a while in its troubled coursebefore plunging into the valley. Far above gleamedthe object of our expedition—the long-talked-of, and atlast almost-despaired-of Presanella, no longer shrouded