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Updated: June 21, 2025
"Yes," said Michel. "Three men are needed for that climb," and Chayne left him to believe that it was merely for the climb that he needed another guide. "But there is André Droz already at Courmayeur," he continued. "His patron was to leave him there to-day. A telegram can be sent to him to-morrow bidding him wait. If he has started, we shall meet him to-morrow on the Col du Géant.
For as he, Simond and André Droz were marching in single file through the thin forest behind the chalets of La Brenva, a shepherd lad came running down toward them. He was so excited that he could hardly tell the story with which he was hurrying to Courmayeur. Only an hour before he had seen, high up on the Brenva ridge, a man waving a signal of distress.
I want you to return with me to Courmayeur. My wife is there and anxious." "Your wife?" "Yes, Sylvia." Garratt Skinner nodded his head. "I see," he said, slowly. "Yes." He looked round the hut. Simond was going to watch by Hine's side. He was defeated utterly, and recognized it. Then he looked at Chayne, and smiled grimly. "On the whole, I am not sorry that you have married my daughter," he said.
Sylvia saw the truth too clearly. "Walter Hine is getting well," he said. "Your father is still at another hotel in Courmayeur. There's the future to be considered." "Yes," she said, and she waited. "I have asked your father to come over to-night after dinner," said Chayne. And into their private sitting-room Garratt Skinner entered at eight o'clock that evening.
My plan had been to pass from Chamouni by the Col du Géant to Courmayeur, and thence to Aosta for a visit to the canon and his glacière; but, unfortunately, the symptoms which had put an end to the expedition to the Brezon and the Valley of Reposoir came on with renewed vigour, as a consequence of Mont Blanc, and the projected fortnight with Peter Pernn collapsed into a hasty flight to Geneva.
"I will come down to Courmayeur. It will be pleasant to sleep in a bed." And together they walked down to Courmayeur, which they reached soon after midnight. In two days' time Walter Hine was sufficiently recovered to be carried down to Courmayeur.
"Yes it's from Lattery," he said, as he glanced first at the signature. Then he read the telegram and his face grew very grave. Lattery telegraphed from Courmayeur, the Italian village just across the chain of Mont Blanc: "Starting now by Col du Géant and Col des Nantillons." The Col du Géant is the most frequented pass across the chain, and no doubt the easiest.
The other day we walked to a pasture called the Col de Checruit, high up the valley of Courmayeur, where the spring was still in its first freshness. Gradually we climbed, by dusty roads and through hot fields where the grass had just been mown, beneath the fierce light of the morning sun.
The black tower and the houses of Courmayeur in the foreground gleam beneath the moon until she reaches the edge of the Cramont, and then sinks quietly away, once more to reappear among the pines, then finally to leave the valley dark beneath the shadow of the mountain's bulk.
Both Simond and Droz discredited the story. The distance was too great; the sharpest eyes could not have seen so far. But Chayne believed, and his heart sank within him. The puppet and Garratt Skinner what did they matter? But he turned his eyes down toward Courmayeur. It was Sylvia upon whom the blow would fall. "The story cannot be true," cried Simond.
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