Deep snow was underfoot, a grey sky was over us, black peaks were on all sides, but ahead in the mist of the pass was that curious _castrol_ which I had first seen in my dream on the Erzerum road.
I saw it distinct in every detail.

It rose to the left of the road through the pass, above a hollow where great boulders stood out in the snow.

Its sides were steep, so that the snow had slipped off in patches, leaving stretches of glistening black shale.

The _kranz_ at the top did not rise sheer, but sloped at an angle of forty-five, and on the very summit there seemed a hollow, as if the earth within the rock-rim had been beaten by weather into a cup.
That is often the way with a South African _castrol_, and I knew it was so with this.

We were straining for it, but the snow clogged us, and our enemies were very close behind.
Then I was awakened by a figure at my side.