Well, we shoved and sweated over the pass on a clear, warm, delightful Sunday morning, with dear old Jim Hendry in the party. Down the rough descent to Blaen-y-cwm we stumbled with at least one of us dying for a drink and there, standing by the brook, with the bottles cooling in the water, stoodCapt. Ginjah — O.T. ’ot; jolly old pot; 95 in the shade, wot ! wot!