The man was twenty years my elder, but my youth was of no avail against his iron strength.

Though I was hard and spare from my travels in the summer heat, 'twas all I could do to keep up with him, and only my pride kept me from crying halt.

Often when he stopped I could have wept with fatigue, and had no breath for a word, but his taciturnity saved me from shame.
In a hollow among the woods we came to a place which sent him on his knees, peering and sniffing like a wild-cat.
"What make you of that ?" he asked.
I saw nothing but a bare patch in the grass, some broken twigs, and a few ashes.
"It's an old camp," I said.
"Ay," said he.

"Nothing more?
Use your wits, man." I used them, but they gave me no help.
"This is the way I read it, then," he said.

"Three men camped here before midday.