Even the spirits of Harry, who had borrowed so much from the courage of Jackson, sank somewhat.

As they pulled themselves through the hills on their last stage toward Romney, he was walking.

His horse had fallen three times that day on the ice, and was now too timid to carry his owner.
So Harry led him.

The boy's face and hands were so much chapped and cracked with the cold that they bled at times.

But he wasted no sympathy on himself.