Roscoe met me at the coach, and I was taken at once to the house among the hills.

It stood on the edge of a ravine, and the end of the verandah looked over a verdant precipice, beautiful but terrible too.

It was uniquely situated; a nest among the hills, suitable either for work or play.

In one's ears was the low, continuous din of the rapids, with the music of a neighbouring waterfall.
On the way up the hills I had a chance to observe Roscoe closely.

His face had not that sturdy buoyancy which his letter suggested.