My father, Gadla Henry Mphakanyiswa, was a chief by both blood and custom.

On the 30th, accompanied by Jerome Fay, I made another ascent to make some barometrical observations, the day intervening between the two ascents being devoted to establishing a camp on the extreme edge of the timberline.

There were three or four inches of fresh snow on the ground, and the flakes were falling thick and fast.

Nearly all the answers were entertainers or athletes, the Mickey Mantles of your generation - until Sept. 11, 2001