making of a great mountain system east of the Adige.

"Let me show you," he said, and flung himself on to the edge of the
precipice into exactly the position of a lady riding side-saddle. "You
will find it more comfortable to sit down."

But anxious as I am abroad not to discredit my country by unseemly
exhibitions I felt unequal to such gymnastics without a proper rehearsal
at a lower level. I seated myself carefully at a yard (perhaps it was a
couple of yards) from the edge, advanced on my trousers without dignity
to the verge, and so with an effort thrust my legs over to dangle in the
crystalline air.

"That," proceeded General Bompiani, pointing with a giddy flourish of
his riding whip, "is Monte Tomba."

I swayed and half-extended my hand towards him. But he was still
there--sitting, so to speak, on the half of himself.... I was astonished
that he did not disappear abruptly during his exposition....


2

The fighting man in the Dolomites has been perhaps the most wonderful
of all these separate campaigns. I went up by automobile as far as the
clambering new road goes up the flanks of Tofana No. 2; thence for a
time by mule along the flank of Tofana No. 1, and thence on foot to the
vestiges of the famous Castelletto.

The aspect of these mountains is particularly grim and wicked; they are