We went to the ruined huts where Sinfi had on that memorable day
lingered by the spring, and Winnie began to scoop out the water with
her hand and drink it. She saw how I wanted to drink the water out of
the little palm, and she scooped some out for me, saying, 'It's the
purest, and sweetest, and best water on Snowdon.'
'Yes,' I said, 'the purest, and sweetest, and best water in the world
when drunk from such a cup.'
She drew her hand away and let the water drop through her fingers,
and turned round to look at the scene we had left, where the summit
of Snowdon was towering beyond a reach of rock, bathed in the rapidly
deepening light.
'No idle compliments between you and me, sir,' she said, with a
smile. 'Remember that I have still time and strength to go back to
the top and follow Sinfi down to the camp.'
And then we both laughed together, as we laughed that afternoon in
Wilderness Road when she enunciated her theories upon the voices of
men and the voices of birds. She then stood gazing abstractedly into
a pool of water, upon which the evening lights were now falling.
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