Crows winging toward the forest to the south speckled the sky behind the chimney.

To Kenny's ardent fancy, the old house, built of gray and ancient stone, became a rugged cameo set in gold and trees.

Whatever arable land belonged to the hill-farm lay away from the river.

North and south loomed only a primitive maze of trees.
A path wound steeply down to the river's edge and to a boat.

Kenny stared at it in some resentment.
Well, if he must hunt a bridge he would rest there first beneath the willow.