The evening was so fine and the scene was so lovely that Sinfi's very
body seemed to drink it in and become intoxicated with beauty. After
we had left the slate quarries behind, the panorama became more
entrancing at every yard we walked. Cwellyn Lake and Valley, Moel
Hebog, y Garnedd, the glittering sea, Anglesey, Holyhead Hill, all
seemed to be growing in gold and glory out of masses of sunset mist.

When at last we reached the edge of a steep cliff, with the rocky
forehead of Snowdon in front, and the shining llyns of Cwm y Clogwyn
below, Sinfi stopped.

'This is the place,' said she, sitting down on a mossy mound, 'where
Winnie loved to come and look down.'

After Sinfi and I had sat on this mound for a few minutes, I asked
her to sing and play one or two Welsh airs which I knew to be
especial favourites of hers, and then, with much hesitancy, I asked
her to play and sing the same song or incantation which had become
associated for ever with my first morning on the hills.

'You mean the Welsh dukkerin' gillie,' said Sinfi, looking, with an
expression that might have been either alarm or suspicion, into my
face.

'Yes.'

'You've been a-thinkin' all this while, brother, that I don't know
why you asked me about Winnie's favourite places on Snowdon, and why
you wanted me to take my crwth to the camp. But I've been a-thinkin'
about it, and I know now why you did, and I know why you wants me to
play the Welsh dukkerin' gillie here. It's because you heerd me say
that if I were to play that dukkerin' gillie on Snowdon in the places
she was fond on, I could tell for sartin whether Winnie wur alive or
dead. If she wur alive her livin' mullo 'ud follow the crwth. But I
ain't a-goin' to do it.'

'Why not, Sinfi?'

'Because my mammy used to say it ain't right to make use o' the real
dukkerin' for Gorgios, and I've heerd her say that if them as had the
real dukkerin'--the dukkerin' for the Romanies--used it for the
Gorgios, or if they turned it into a sport and a plaything, it 'ud
leave 'em altogether. And that ain't the wust on it, for when the
real dukkerin' leaves you it turns into a kind of a cuss, and it
brings on the bite of the Romany Sap. [Footnote] Even now, Hal, I
sometimes o' nights feels the bite here of the Romany Sap,' pointing
to her bosom, 'and it's all along o' you, Hal, it's all along o' you,
because I seem to be breaking the promise about Gorgios I made to my
poor mammy.'

[Footnote: The Romany