This looked bad, for it meant that he did not smell water along the cliff front.

If I was to find a stream it must be on the top, and I must try a little mountaineering.
Then, taking my courage in both my hands, I decided.

I gave my pony a cut, and set him off on the homeward road.

I knew he was safe to get back in four or five hours, and in broad day there was little fear of wild beasts attacking him.

I had tied my sleeping bag on to the saddle, and had with me but two pocketfuls of food.