Retracing my steps some way I got upon the river's bank and then
again proceeded in the direction of the west. I soon came to a
cottage nearly opposite a bridge, which led over the river, not the
bridge which I have already mentioned, but one much smaller, and
considerably higher up the valley. The cottage had several dusky
outbuildings attached to it, and a paling before it. Leaning over
the paling in his shirt-sleeves was a dark-faced, short, thickset
man, who saluted me in English. I returned his salutation,
stopped, and was soon in conversation with him. I praised the
beauty of the river and its banks: he said that both were
beautiful and delightful in summer, but not at all in winter, for
then the trees and bushes on the banks were stripped of their
leaves, and the river was a frightful torrent. He asked me if I
had been to see the place called the Robber's Leap, as strangers
generally went to see it. I inquired where it was.
"Yonder," said he, pointing to some distance down the river.
"Why is it called the Robber's Leap?" said I.
"It is called the Robber's Leap, or Llam y Lleidyr," said he,
"because a thief pursued by justice once leaped across the river
there and escaped. It was an awful leap, and he well deserved to
escape after taking it.
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