Thence our track ran along the ridge, on the short sweet turf, where there were few or no ruts, and these easily avoided on that broad open ground.

The quick pony now put out his speed, and we raced along as smoothly as if the wheels were running on a carpet.

Far below, to the right, stretched wheatfield after wheatfield in a plain between two ranges of the hills.

Over the opposite slope, a mile away, came the shadows of the clouds--then down along the corn towards us.
Stonechats started from the flints and low bushes as we went by; an old crow--it is always an old crow--rose hastily from behind a fence of withered thorn; and a magpie fluttered down the hill to the fields beneath, where was a flock of sheep.

The breeze at this height made the sunshine pleasant.
Cicely said that once some snow lingered in the fosse of the entrenchment we had left behind till the haymaking.