94 BEGGARS ON HORSEBACK. 



CHAPTER VII. 



The ascent of Snowdon began as seductively, as 

 gently, as the first step towards a great crime. A 

 grassy cart - track curved idly through pastures 

 that had just a perceptible heavenward tendency, 

 enough to stimulate the traveller and flatter his 

 vigour and prowess. The air was bland and 

 sweet, and the clouds that had been solemnly 

 seated on the mountain began to move away in 

 vagrant wisps and shreds, baring the ponderous 

 side and shoulder and the white track that climbed 

 them at what we considered an absurdly easy 

 gradient. 



Griffith Roberts had allotted us but brief time 

 for rest or refreshment at the Ouellyn Arms. As 

 the clock struck seven he had tapped fatefully at 



