The deep declivities, the precipitous ascents, the broad chasm-like basins, the running streams, the soft turf, had tried sorely the little strength that remained to him.

Sometimes he would sit for a minute with his long thin hand pressed hard upon his heart; then he would start away afresh, but rather by the impulse of apprehension than by that of renewed strength.
Yes, he was now at the foot of Brandreth, and the horses and their riders had not emerged above the Scarf.

How hot and thirsty he felt! Here stood a shepherd's cottage, the first human habitation he had passed since he left Watendlath.

Should he ask for some milk?
It would refresh and sustain him.

As Sim stood near the gate of the cottage, doubtful whether to go in or go on, the shepherd's wife came out.
Would she give him a drink of milk?
Yes, and welcome.