These were the only touches of color in the dreary landscape, except for the streak of pale-yellow sky that glimmered above a long black ridge.

On the other side, a line of rugged fells with summits lost in snow clouds, rose dark and forbidding.
It was very cold and a biting wind swept the heath.
Kit was tired, for he had been on the moor since morning and had not eaten much.

It was an awkward matter to find the sheep, and then the men and dogs had some difficulty to keep the ewes moving, because the Herdwick never willingly leaves the neighborhood where it was born and will, if possible, return.

The lambs, now grown large and fat, gave less trouble, and when they sometimes stopped irresolutely while the ewes tried to break away Kit understood their hesitation.

Two instincts were at work: it was natural to follow their dams, but Mireside was their native heath and they knew they were going to be taken home.
Now they had gone some distance, Kit had to make a choice.