He draw them
out of the water with his ychain banog his humpty oxen, and when he
get dem out he burn deir bodies on de fire, he good man for dat."
"What do you call this allt?" said I, looking up to the high
pinnacled hill on my right.
"I call that Tap Nyth yr Eryri."
"Is not that the top nest of the eagles?"
"I believe it is. Ha! I see you understand Welsh."
"A little," said I. "Are there eagles there now?"
"No, no eagle now."
"Gone like avanc?"
"Yes, gone like avanc, but not so long. My father see eagle on Tap
Nyth, but my father never see avanc in de llyn."
"How far to Dinas?"
"About three mile."
"Any thieves about?"
"No, no thieves here, but what come from England," and he looked at
me with a strange, grim smile.
"What is become of the red-haired robbers of Mawddwy?"
"Ah," said the old man, staring at me, "I see you are a Cumro. The
red-haired thieves of Mawddwy! I see you are from these parts."
"What's become of them?"
"Oh, dead, hung. Lived long time ago; long before eagle left Tap
Nyth."
He spoke true. The red-haired banditti of Mawddwy were
exterminated long before the conclusion of the sixteenth century,
after having long been the terror not only of these wild regions
but of the greater part of North Wales.
