Then there was the Portugoose's pistol, costing, say, a guinea; and last, the Prester's collar, worth several millions.
What was more important than my clothing was my bodily strength.

I was still very sore from the bonds and the jog of that accursed horse, but exercise was rapidly suppling my joints.

About five hours ago I had eaten a filling, though not very sustaining, meal, and I thought I could go on very well till morning.

But I was still badly in arrears with my sleep, and there was no chance of my snatching a minute till I was over the Berg.

It was going to be a race against time, and I swore that I would drive my body to the last ounce of strength.
Moonrise was still an hour or two away, and the sky was bright with myriad stars.