and had to be brought down, dead or alive. We hurried up through
the pine-forest with a chair, and found the poor creature alive
indeed, but with horrible injuries--an eye knocked out, an arm and
a thigh broken, her ulster torn to ribbons, and with more blood
about the place in pools than I should have thought a human body
could contain. She was conscious; she had to be lifted into the
chair, and we had to discover where she belonged; she fainted away
in the middle of it, and I had to go on and break the news to her
relations. If I had been told beforehand what would have had to be
done, I do not think I could have faced it; but it was there to do,
and I found myself entirely capable of taking part, and even of
wondering all the time that it was possible to act.

Again, I was once engulfed in a crevasse, hanging from the ice-
ledge with a portentous gulf below, and a glacier-stream roaring
in the darkness. I could get no hold for foot or hand, my
companions could not reach me or extract me; and as I sank into
unconsciousness, hearing my own expiring breath, I knew that I was
doomed; but I can only say, quite honestly and humbly, that I had
no fear at all, and only dimly wondered what arrangements would be
made at Eton, where I was then a master, to accommodate the boys of
my house and my pupils. It was not done by an effort, nor did I
brace myself to the situation: fear simply did not come near to me.

Once again I found myself confronted, not so long ago, with an
incredibly painful and distressing interview. That indeed did
oppress me with almost intolerable dread beforehand. I was to go to
a certain house in London, and there was just a chance that the
interview might not take place after all. As I drove there, I
suddenly found myself wondering whether the interview could REALLY