1 Finally I descended the hill, obliquely, towards the trees I had seen.
2 My idea was to let that chain-gang get out of sight before I climbed the hill.
3 I came upon a boiler wallowing in the grass, then found a path leading up the hill.
4 On the hill a big fire burned, illuminating fitfully a crooked corner of the station-house.
5 'He is up there,' he replied, with a toss of the head up the hill, and becoming gloomy all of a sudden.
6 Through my glasses I saw the slope of a hill interspersed with rare trees and perfectly free from undergrowth.
7 The long shadows of the forest had slipped down hill while we talked, had gone far beyond the ruined hovel, beyond the symbolic row of stakes.
8 A rocky cliff appeared, mounds of turned-up earth by the shore, houses on a hill, others, with iron roofs, amongst a waste of excavations, or hanging to the declivity.
9 I kept my head pretty well; but when I had him at last stretched on the couch, I wiped my forehead, while my legs shook under me as though I had carried half a ton on my back down that hill.
10 Paths, paths, everywhere; a stamped-in network of paths spreading over the empty land, through long grass, through burnt grass, through thickets, down and up chilly ravines, up and down stony hills ablaze with heat; and a solitude, a solitude, nobody, not a hut.