"Only a little way!" Hobbling painfully, he began the ascent in front of the strolling Englishman.

The path ran steeply up between close-growing shrubs, following the winding of the torrent far below.

In places the hillside was precipitous and the roar of the stream rose louder as it dashed among its rocks.

The heavy scent of the azalea flowers hung like incense everywhere, mingling aromatically with the smoke from Dacre's newly lighted cigar.
With his hands in his pockets he followed his guide with long, easy strides.

The ascent was nothing to him, and the other's halting progress brought a smile of contemptuous pity to his lips.