Soon
I found the Gypsy bending over me.
'I can't find her,' said she. 'We had best make haste and strike
across her path as she makes for Llanberis. I have a notion as she's
sure to do that.'
As fast as we could scramble along those rugged tracks we made our
way to the point where the Gypsy expected that Winifred would pass.
We remained for hours, beating about in all directions in search of
her,--Sinti every now and then touching her crwth with the bow,--but
without any result.
'It's my belief she's gone straight down to Llanberis,' said Sinfi;
'and we'd best lose no time, but go there too.'
We went right to the top of the mountain and rested for a little time
on y Wyddfa, Sinfi taking some bread and cheese and ale in the cabin
there. Then we descended the other side. I had not sense then to
notice the sunset-glories, the peaks of mountains melting into a sky
of rose and light-green, over which a phalanx of fiery clouds was
filing; and yet I see it all now as I write, and I hear what I did
not seem to hear then, the musical chant of a Welsh guide ahead of
us, who was conducting a party of happy tourists to Llanberis.
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