There was a river and there were woods, but the trees hung motionless, and the river wound like a snake of brass among them.
The doctor regarded both the knapsack and the prospect resentfully.

He had hoped for a breeze upon the hill-top, and there was no breeze.
Raising his hand to remove his hat, he noticed that the hand was trembling, and swore softly.

The hand continued to tremble, and holding it out before him he watched it, interestedly, until a powerful will brought the quivering nerves into subjection.
"Jove!" he muttered.

"Not a moment too soon--this holiday!" Then, hat in hand, he started down the hill.
It was a long hill, very long, much longer than it had any need or right to be.

It had a twist in its nature which would not allow it to run straight.