All at once he discovered that he had lost the stream, where or when he could not tell.

All below and around him was red granite rock, scattered over with the chips and splinters detached by air and wind, water and stream, light and heat and cold.
Glashgar was only about three thousand feet in height, but it was the steepest of its group--a huge rock that, even in the midst of masses, suggested solidity.
Not once while he ascended had the idea come to him that by and by he should be able to climb no farther.

For aught he knew there were oat-cakes and milk and sheep and collie dogs ever higher and higher still.

Not until he actually stood upon the peak did he know that there was the earthly hitherto--the final obstacle of unobstancy, the everywhere which, from excess of perviousness, was to human foot impervious.

The sun was about two hours towards the west, when Gibbie, his little legs almost as active as ever, surmounted the final slope.