That meant that the wholecountrybelowthemlayintheevening light - forestandhills and valleys and, winding away like a silver snake, the lower part of the great river.
About 80ft high, I'd guess, it is beautiful rather than vast - a rushing stream that catches the light from an opening in the forest canopy and plunges into a pool where there were two people bathing, and from which, surprisingly, they produced a large basket of freshwater crabs.
The order of things feels not so much old-fashioned as off kilter, and our apprehensions quicken when Martha steals away, at first light, and heads for a nearby forest.