Every now and then she would stop on a ledge of rock, and,
without staying her prattle for a moment, stoop down and examine the
earth with eyes that would not have missed the footprint of a rat.
When I saw her pause, as she sometimes would in the midst of her
scrutiny, to gaze inquiringly down some gulf, which then seemed awful
to my inexperienced eyes, but which later on in the day, when I came
to see the tremendous chasms of that side of Snowdon, seemed
insignificant enough, the circulation of my blood would seem to stop,
and then rush again through my body more violently than before. And
while the 'patrin-chase' went on, and the morning grew brighter and
brighter, the Gypsy's lithe, catlike tread never faltered. The rise
and fall of her bosom were as regular and as calm as in the
public-house. Such agility and such staying power in a woman
astonished me. Finding no trace of Winnie, we returned to the little
plateau by Knockers' Llyn.
'This is the place,' said the Gypsy; 'it used to be called in old
times the haunted llyn, because when you sings the Welsh dukkerin
gillie here or plays it on a crwth, the Knockers answers it.
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