At first they breathed temperately upon the travellers, winds good to meet when one crawled over some gigantic hog's-back; but in a few days, at a height of nine or ten thousand feet, those breezes bit; and Kim kindly allowed a village of hillmen to acquire merit by giving him a rough blanket-coat.
The lama was mildly surprised that anyone should object to the knife-edged breezes which had cut the years off his shoulders.
'These are but the lower hills, chela.

There is no cold till we come to the true Hills.' 'Air and water are good, and the people are devout enough, but the food is very bad,' Kim growled; 'and we walk as though we were mad--or English.

It freezes at night, too.' 'A little, maybe; but only enough to make old bones rejoice in the sun.
We must not always delight in soft beds and rich food.' 'We might at least keep to the road.' Kim had all a plainsman's affection for the well-trodden track, not six feet wide, that snaked among the mountains; but the lama, being Tibetan, could not refrain from short cuts over spurs and the rims of gravel-strewn slopes.

As he explained to his limping disciple, a man bred among mountains can prophesy the course of a mountain-road, and though low-lying clouds might be a hindrance to a short-cutting stranger, they made no earthly difference to a thoughtful man.

Thus, after long hours of what would be reckoned very fair mountaineering in civilized countries, they would pant over a saddle-back, sidle past a few landslips, and drop through forest at an angle of forty-five onto the road again.