A few hundred yards behind the house lay the steep, rocky mountains.

A hundred yards away Cheetim lay behind a boulder upon another hill top.

One hundred and twenty-six yards away the man with his eye to the scope lay perfectly still for a second.

A cobbled yard lay just to the east of this building.

A few yards away lay the foundations of the church built in 1775.

A yard from me lay a leg with boot and all the rest of it.

By the time we stopped, several yards of the tunnel lay open, and two splendid paintings had been brought to light, one on either wall.

A larger, even more hellish prison yard lay beyond the north wall.

Twenty yards in the other direction lay the second man.

The last fifty yards lay ahead of me and I glanced back.