AS FAR AS the eye could see, there were Christmas trees.

On the crest of Wenceslaus Hill, where the log-built

chalet stood, was a large map of the whole range, hill and

valley, rock and forest, telling a story which fascinated most

people who climbed so far. The map was seven feet wide and

three feet deep, supported by two posts made of weather-

darkened pine, each post driven deep into the ground. Over

the map was a shallow roof, erected partly to save the

climbers from the fierce rays of the sun, partly to protect

the colours of the map from bleaching, and partly to prevent

reflection from the protective glass surface.

This morning the sun s rays shone low from a gap in the

eastern mountains turning the glass to a vivid sheet of

flame. This fiery glow touched everything nearby: the

windows of the chalet, the outside showers, the benches of

rough hewn logs, the railing of knotty pine which protected

the edge of the clearing. Beyond the clearing was a sheer

drop of over two hundred feet, falling to sharp granite rocks

below.