The country here was rougher than it usually is in the great valley to the west, and as he advanced it became yet more broken, range after range of steep, stony hills, with fertile but narrow little valleys between.

He went on without hesitation for at least two hours, and then stopping under a great oak he uttered a long, whining cry, much like the howl of a wolf.
It was not a loud note, but it was singularly penetrating, carrying far through the forest.

A sound like an echo came back, but Henry knew that instead of an echo it was a reply to his own signal.

Then he advanced boldly and swiftly and came to the edge of a snug little valley set deep among rocks and trees like a bowl.

He stopped behind the great trunk of a beech, and looked into the valley with a smile of approval.
Four human figures were seated around a fire of smoldering coals that gave forth no smoke.