"Then we go nearly straight down, keeping this side of the big ghyll." "As far away as possible, I hope.

I don't like its look," Miss Jardine remarked.
Festing agreed with her.

So far as he could see, the descent looked forbidding, but there was no sign of the sky's clearing, and it was obvious that they must get down.

The thunder had gone, but the mist brought a curious, searching damp, and a cold wind had begun to blow.

He was glad to think Helen knew the way.
She took them down a steep pitch where small rocky ledges dropped nearly vertical among patches of rotten turf and it was needful to get a good grip with one's hands as well as with one's feet.