There Hans bid us come to a halt, and a hasty breakfast was served out.

My uncle swallowed two mouthfuls at a time to get on faster.

But, whether he liked it or not, this was a rest as well as a breakfast hour and he had to wait till it pleased our guide to move on, which came to pass in an hour.

The three Icelanders, just as taciturn as their comrade the hunter, never spoke, and ate their breakfasts in silence.
We were now beginning to scale the steep sides of Snaefell.

Its snowy summit, by an optical illusion not unfrequent in mountains, seemed close to us, and yet how many weary hours it took to reach it! The stones, adhering by no soil or fibrous roots of vegetation, rolled away from under our feet, and rushed down the precipice below with the swiftness of an avalanche.
At some places the flanks of the mountain formed an angle with the horizon of at least 36 degrees; it was impossible to climb them, and these stony cliffs had to be tacked round, not without great difficulty.