After that it was difficult, and I lost it entirely in the rough heather below the crags.

All that I could make out for certain was that he had crossed the stream, and that his business, whatever it was, had been with the few acres of tumbled wilderness below the precipices.
I spent a busy morning there, but found nothing except the skeleton of a sheep picked clean by the ravens.

It was a thankless job, and I got very cross over it.

I had an ugly feeling that I was on a false scent and wasting my time.

I wished to Heaven I had old Peter with me.