BEGGARS OX HORSEBACK. 72, 



A scarlet face loomed in the entry of the hotel 

 as we slid stiffly from our saddles, and afterwards, 

 in the sitting-room, we found it burning like a red 

 lamp at the central table. We fell into converse 

 with its owner, while from a dark corner of the 

 room a sickly jingle apprised us that some one was 

 playing " The I\Ian that broke the Bank at Monte 

 Carlo." 



"My friend's playin' there," explained the tour- 

 ist with the roast face ; " 'e's rather a shoy cha-ap.'"' 



He further informed us that he came from Man- 

 chester and 'ad just bin up Snowdon. Perhaps he 

 did not mean to be discouraging : his intentions 

 were obviously of the best, and possibly his com- 

 plexion had something to say to the lurid light in 

 which he regarded our project of riding the Tom- 

 mies up Snowdon. Nevertheless, as we heard how, 

 not three years before, a pony had slipped and 

 fallen down a precipice, how he himself had felt 

 '' that sick and giddy " at one place that on the 

 downward path two guides had enveloped his head 



