We brought my old guide to the cabin, thrown across a pony, and I set out anew, guided by the dweller on the hills.

He forced me to mount the pony, and led the way over the crags.

He bounded from rock to rock with the agility of a deer, though the stones were sharp as flint, and he barefooted.

He was a man of powerful proportions and extreme activity.

My pony, on the other hand, crept his way through narrow pathways, worn by the rain.