differences, the same.

The first day's journey passed without incident. Our march was slow and
even dangerous, all trace of the road being obliterated, and we were
obliged to feel our way, as it were, by sending men forward with long
pikes to sound the depth of snow before us. At nightfall, however, we
found ourselves in safety on a sort of platform surmounted by a few
pine-trees. Here we established our bivouac. Branches were cut, and a
sort of hut built; and, with the aid of enormous fires, the night passed
in greater comfort than might have been expected on a mountain-side, and
with snow many feet deep around us.

At daybreak we were again in movement. Our difficulties increased as we
ascended the mountain: the snow lay in prodigious masses, and more than
once we were delayed by having to rescue one or other of our advanced
guard from some hole or ravine into which he had fallen. No serious
accident, however, occurred, and we had at length the satisfaction of
finding ourselves descending. We had passed the highest point of the
road.

We had been going downhill for some three hours, the way zig-zaging
among rocks and precipices, when suddenly we were startled by a loud
cracking, followed by a noise that resembled a clap of thunder repeated
by many echoes. At the same moment a sort of whirlwind swept by us, and
the air was darkened by a cloud of snow-dust. "An avalanche!" cried
George, stopping his waggon. Every body halted. In another instant the
noise ceased, the air became clear, and the avalanche continued its
downward course, breaking, as it passed, a couple of gigantic pines that
grew upon a rock, some five hundred feet below us. The carriers gave a
hurra of joy at their escape, nor was it without reason. Had we been