He saw it clearly with his shrewd sense; and though his worn-out body revolted, his resolution did not flinch.
They forced a way through thickets, they skirted precipitous rocks, passed clusters of ragged pines, and plunged down ravines.

In the afternoon the sun was hot, and when it got low a cold wind buffeted them as they crossed the height of land.

Harding's side ached, and his feet were bleeding, but the march went on.

Just before dark there opened up before them a wide valley, fading into the blue distance, with water shining in its midst and gray blurs of willows here and there.

However, it faded swiftly, and Harding found himself limping across a stony ridge into a belt of drifting mist.