A MOUNTAIN WALK
'The mountains that infold
In their wide sweep the coloured landscape round,
Seem groups of giant kings, in purple and gold,
That guard the enchanted ground.'
'Father, where are you going?' cried Peggy one morning, sliding down the
banisters in her hurry to see why her father was pulling out his great
fishing-basket from the cupboard under the stairs.
'Up to Llyn y Gaer, little woman, to look after the sheep. I shall stay
all night at the cottage, so you won't see me home again till to-morrow
evening.'
'Oh, Father!' cried Peggy, flinging her arms round his neck in her most
beguiling manner, '_couldn't_ you take Bobby and me with you this time?
We have never been once yet, and you can't think how much we want to
go.'
'Why, my dear child, I don't know whether you could manage it. Remember,
it is an eight-mile walk, and all uphill, and such a rough place when
you get there. I am afraid I should have you both crying for Aunt Helen
when bedtime came!'
'Indeed we shouldn't; we're not babies!' insisted Peggy, greatly
indignant at such a suggestion. 'We can walk quite as well as grown-up
people, and carry our own baskets. Oh, Daddy, dear, do, _do_ please
take us just this once!'
'The hut's hardly fit for a girl,' said Mr. Vaughan doubtfully,
beginning to relent to Peggy's coaxings.
'Well, you've called me a tomboy often enough, so let me be a boy for
to-day. Oh, Auntie, do be a darling, and persuade Father to say yes!'
Aunt Helen paused on her way from the pantry to the dining-room, with a
dish of ham in one hand and a pound of butter in the other.
'I really think they might go,' she said, 'if you don't walk too fast
for them, Robert. The weather has been so hot that it must be quite dry
up there, so I hardly think they would catch cold in the cottage. But
they must promise to behave properly, and not to get into any mischief.
I can't spare Lilian to-day, or she might have gone to look after them.'
'Oh, thank you! Of course we'll promise!' cried Peggy, clapping her
hands, and flying off in the seventh heaven of joy to inform Bobby of
the delightful prospect, nearly upsetting Nancy and the breakfast-tray
in her mad career, and causing that worthy girl to wish devoutly that
schools had no holidays.
Mr. Vaughan owned some land high up on the mountains, across the border,
in Wales. He had a little rough shepherd's hut there, just sufficient to
form a shelter at night-time, and every now and then he would make an
expedition to look after his sheep, or the tiny shaggy ponies which were
turned out loose to wander almost wild upon the moors.
To go with Father upon one of these mountain excursions had been the
dream of Peggy and Bobby's lives, so it was with very gay faces that,
their fishing-baskets full of provisions slung over their shoulders, and
old Rover trotting soberly behind, they started off on their eight-mile
tramp up the hillside.
It was such a lovely summer morning, one of those brilliant, glorious
days when the world looks as if it had been newly created, and came to
us with a whiff of Paradise about it. Down in the village the cottage
gardens were ablaze with flowers, and even old Ephraim had forgotten his
rheumatism, and crawled out to bask in the hot sunshine on the low wall,
and called out a friendly 'Good-marnin'!' as the children went by. Past
the forge, whence the cheery chink, chink of the blacksmith's hammer
came mingled with the refrain of a stirring melody from a good bass
voice; under the spreading yew-trees of the churchyard, and out through
the lych-gate to the old mill, where the great wheel was turning slowly
round, its dripping blades gleaming bright in the sunshine; up the steep
path through the little hazel-wood, scrambling over the ladder-like
stile into the narrow lane that ran ever uphill towards the mountains,
which loomed before them, rugged in outline, and shaded in a mist of
purple blue. The hedgerows had given place to stone walls now, loosely
built without any mortar, and with green ferns and pennywort growing in
the crevices, and forget-me-nots in the ditch below. On and up, on and
up, with the great blue hills always rising higher before them, till at
length even the stone walls vanished, and they were on the bare
moorland, with only a slight foot-track for a road.
Quite out of breath with scrambling after Father's long strides, the
children begged for mercy, and sat down to rest for a few minutes and
eat their lunch by the side of a little quick-running stream.
'It is a good place for a halt,' said Father, 'for it is the boundary
between England and Wales. When we are over the border we shall all be
Taffies instead of John Bulls.'
The air was sweet and cool up there, delightfully refreshing after the
hot climb uphill. Below them the country lay stretched out like a map,
the fields looking no larger than the squares of a chess-board, and the
village a pretty child's toy by the side of the river which wound, a
mere silver thread, along the valley. Far in the distance, among the
trees, the outline of the Abbey rose gray against the background of soft
beeches; a little dark cloud, the only one in the whole expanse of clear
blue sky, hung over it like a warning of distant danger, and Father
sighed as he looked, for to him it appeared as if the shadow of ruin
were already creeping near, and stretching a threatening hand over the
old home.
But Peggy and Bobby were at the very high-tide of happiness. Children
live so entirely in the present, that so long as the existing day brings
joy, they literally take no thought for the morrow, and catching their
infectious spirits, Mr. Vaughan shook off his forebodings, and joined in
the delight of the moment as if he were a boy once more. He hunted in
the brook for sedges, captured a Red Admiral to grace Bobby's
collection, filled his pockets with sweet gale and asphodel for Lilian's
dried vases, and made himself such a delightful companion that the
children agreed that Father on a holiday was out and out the best
playmate they knew.
'Come, we must be getting on!' he said at last, when the last piece of
bread-and-butter had vanished, and the remains had been scattered for
the fishes. 'Do you see that little farm nestling in the hollow, with
the fir-trees behind it? That is our last link with civilization. We
shall find no more human habitations until we reach our hut by the
lake, so we must make the most of our opportunity, and buy some milk as
we pass. They will lend us a can, and we can leave it as we return
to-morrow.'
The farm proved, on a nearer acquaintance, to be a little one-storey
dwelling built of rough stones, with a roof so covered with a mass of
green polypody fern as to completely hide the slate underneath. There
was no garden, only a low wall on which the milk-cans and most of the
family crockery seemed to be taking an airing; but a patch of potatoes
and a scanty half-acre of oats lay beyond the little homestead, roughly
railed off to keep out the marauding sheep.
Peggy, who always liked to be first and foremost, ran on before the
others to ask for the milk, and was greeted by a furious barking from a
collie-dog who guarded the doorstep, while a small, shock-headed girl
peeped shyly from behind the shelter of his rough back. At the sight of
a stranger she fled with a howl, for visitors were almost unknown on
these heights, and the child was as wild as a young rabbit. Her cry of
alarm brought out a woman, who kicked the dog yelping into the house,
and looked at Peggy with as much curiosity as if she were the inhabitant
of another world.
'Please can you let us have some milk?' asked Peggy politely.
'Dim Saesneg,' replied the woman, shaking her head, which, being
interpreted, means, 'I can't speak English.'
For once Peggy was at a loss, but Father soon came to the rescue, for he
had picked up a little Welsh in his expeditions on the mountains, and
readily made the woman understand, in her native tongue, what they
required.
The little black cow with the long horns looked strange to eyes
accustomed to the large red and white cows at the Abbey, but her milk
seemed sweet and good, and the woman sang a song in Welsh while she
milked it, to a strange, haunting kind of melody that, like most of the
Celtic music, had a touch of sadness and pathos about it.
'Ask her if she ever comes down to Gorswen, and how they get food up
here,' whispered Peggy to Father, anxious to be initiated into the
mysteries of life among the moors.
'We don't go down more than once a fortnight or so for flour and
groceries,' was the translated reply. 'Then we bring it up on the
donkey's back. Oh yes, we walk ourselves all the way. What do we live on
mostly? Bread and bacon, oatmeal and potatoes, and a few eggs. It's a
healthy life, but terribly cold in winter. No, I've never been inside
Gorswen Church. We go to a little chapel up here. A preacher walks over
from Llanelly when they can spare one. Lonely? Not a bit! When you have
the cows and the pigs and the hens and the children to see to you've no
time to feel lonely!'
She looked pleased, however, to have had an opportunity for a chat, and
gave them a very hearty good-bye as they took the milk-can and set off
again on their long tramp. When the little farm was out of sight, they
seemed indeed to have left the world behind them, and to be all alone
among the hills. Oh, the boundless delight of those rolling miles of
heather, which looked like a crimson sea spreading onward towards the
horizon, and the delicious smell of the sweet-gale as they trod it
underfoot! Great flocks of plovers flew before them, screaming their
'pee-wit, pee-wit!' and here and there they roused a snipe or a
woodcock, while wild little ponies scampered off like the wind,
indignant at having their solitude disturbed.
The path ran for fully a mile over a bog, and the children had to follow
very closely in Father's footsteps to keep a safe track over the soft,
spongy surface, for Joe had told them dark tales of pedlars, travelling
from Llanrhos to Gorswen, who had sunk into those treacherous brown
pools and been heard of no more.
At last, coming over a little rise, they saw in the distance the
gleaming outline of a lake, looking like a patch of silver amongst the
heather.
'Look!' cried Mr. Vaughan. 'That is Llyn y Gaer. We shall be there in
half an hour.'
This was good news to Peggy and Bobby, who were beginning to think that
the fishing-baskets were very heavy on their backs, and that it was the
longest eight miles they had ever imagined, so they hurried after
Father, who made haste now, to make up for the many halts upon the road,
for the afternoon was wearing on, and there was much to be done before
night. Close beside the lake, on a flat piece of grass sheltered under a
high cliff, stood the shepherd's hut, a small one-roomed shanty of rough
stones piled up without either mortar or plaster, and roofed with a few
tree-trunks covered with turf and heather. The tiny window was hardly a
foot square, and had no glass in it, and a beautiful root of parsley
fern grew luxuriantly on the sill, while all the crevices of the walls
seemed full of lichens, bound together by the crimson stems of the
creeping pellitory.
Father unlocked the weather-beaten door, and the children rushed in with
much excitement. They saw a low room with a raftered roof, rough
whitewashed walls, and an earthen floor. The whole of one side was
occupied by a great fireplace, with a chimney so wide that, looking up,
you could see the sky above. Grate there was none, and the fire must
burn on the hearth-stone, but a good stack of dry peat and heather stood
in the ingle nook, evidently left ready for use. A table, a chair, and
two boxes were all the furniture, while a few cups, plates, and knives,
together with a frying-pan, a kettle, and a pair of bellows, made up the
rest of the modest establishment.
'Isn't it fun?' said Peggy, putting down her heavy basket with a sigh of
relief.
'I should just think so!' replied Bobby, roaming round to explore, and
wondering whether it would be possible to climb up the wide chimney and
peep out through the top.
'To work! To work!' cried Father. 'We have no time to be idle if you
want any tea! Bobby, take the kettle, and fill it from the stream
outside; and Peggy, you can get some of those peats, and help me to
light the fire.'
Father had a newspaper and a box of matches in his pocket, so, with the
help of the dry heather, they soon had a glowing red blaze, and swung
the kettle on a hook, fastened to the end of a long chain, which hung,
in true Welsh fashion, from a great beam fixed across the chimney.
'Now, while the water boils,' said Mr. Vaughan, 'we must go and pull
heather for our beds, before the dew begins to fall upon it. Come along,
my two subalterns, this is camp life, and you must learn to bivouac like
true soldiers.'
'"The heath this night must be my bed,
The bracken's curtain for my head,"'
sang Peggy, who had been studying the 'Lady of the Lake' at school, and
quoted it on all occasions. 'But we ought not to have a hut at all. We
should just wrap ourselves in our plaids, and lie under the "silent
stars."'
'I prefer a roof over my head myself,' said Father dryly. 'But if you
are so anxious to taste the romantic you may sleep in the cold outside.
I'm afraid I haven't a plaidie to offer you.'
'I'm sure a heather bed will be stunning!' declared Bobby. 'I don't
think I shall ever want sheets and nightshirts, and horrid things of
that sort, again. I'd like to be a hunter when I grow up, and always
live in tents, and caves, and jolly places, like the boys in books.'
'It's just like the Swiss Family Robinson, only ever so much nicer,'
said Peggy. 'I wish we lived up here, and then we shouldn't need to go
to school, and darn stockings, and do all kinds of things we hate!'
They pulled great armfuls of the delicious purple heather, and laid them
on the floor close to the fire, for Father said it was chilly at nights
after the sun had gone down, and they would need all the warmth they
could get. The kettle was boiling noisily by this time, so the children
hastened to set out the cups and plates. There was no table-cloth, but
that did not matter in the least, and the absence of teaspoons was
regarded as rather an advantage than otherwise. It was so quaint to sit
right inside the chimney corner, and smell the delicious blue peat smoke
that was curling its way to the turf roof overhead, and to look out
through the open doorway at the silver lake, sending gentle ripples over
the little sandy beach, and always the purple waste of heather beyond,
with the mountains rising up, tier after tier, into the dim distance.
There never were such appetites. Peggy poured out, with a grand air, as
if she were officiating at some Court ceremony. Aunt Helen's
hard-boiled eggs and bread-and-butter disappeared like magic, and the
little teapot was filled again and again, till there was no more water
left in the kettle.
'Bobby, you simply must stop!' said Father. 'Please to remember our
supplies have to last us for breakfast and lunch to-morrow. If we eat up
everything so fast, we shall be obliged to go hungry before we get home
again. Now I am going out to look after the sheep, and I shall leave you
to clear away and wash up. If I bring you camping out up here, you must
be my orderlies, and do the work. I generally put the cups into the pool
outside.'
'All right,' said Peggy and Bobby, rattling the tea-things into the big
fishing-basket with a haste calculated to break anything but the stout
blue enamel ware which Aunt Helen had thoughtfully provided, and racing
outside to the little stream which flowed past the cottage into the
lake.
The bank shelved in one place, so as to form a shallow basin, and here
the children tilted in their load, sitting down on the heather for a few
minutes to wait until the running water had washed them clean.
'Take care they are not washed away into the lake!' shouted Father after
them. 'And keep up the fire while I am gone. I shall be in before dark.'
And he went off for a weary tramp over the hills, with old Rover
following closely at his heels.
'I wish we could have brought Rollo,' said Bobby. 'I don't believe he
would have driven the sheep all the wrong way, in spite of what Father
says. David had to tie him up in the stable, so that he shouldn't follow
us.'
'I know he'll miss us dreadfully, poor darling!' said Peggy. 'I hope
Lilian won't forget to give him his biscuit to-night. I asked Nancy to
remember Prickles, and Joe promised to feed the rabbits; and if Jack
doesn't get his supper he'll scold so dreadfully outside the kitchen
door that someone is sure to hear him. Oh, Bobby! I saw a fish in the
pool just then. I have two pins in my jacket, and a long piece of string
in my pocket. Don't you think we could make hooks and lines, and catch
some to surprise Father when he comes back? There are lots of worms in
the bank.'
The tea-things were hastily collected from the stream, and the amateur
anglers set to work with much enthusiasm but no success, for the fish
absolutely declined to bite, in spite of the tempting bait, and lay
sulkily under the stones at the bottom of the pool. It was growing quite
dark before Father returned, and I think, though neither of them would
have confessed it, the children were both rather relieved to hear his
cheery whistle outside the door, for it was just a little eerie sitting
by the peat fire in that lonely cottage, without a sound to break the
vast silence, and the knowledge that the nearest human habitation lay
fully three miles away; and Bobby had already asked Peggy if she
believed in ghosts, and whether it was true what Joe had told him that
the lights you sometimes see at night hovering over a bog are the souls
of children who have never been baptized; and though Peggy had professed
to laugh at the supernatural, she did not feel quite so brave as she
pretended, and found little cold shivers stealing down her back when the
wind rose suddenly, and began to wail round the cottage like a hungry
creature waiting to be let in.
'I don't know what you young folks are,' said Mr. Vaughan, 'but I'm
dog-tired, and we had better go to bed, for I want to be up with the sun
to-morrow.'
The children were disposed to agree with him, so, simply pulling off
their boots, they lay down in their clothes on the piles of fragrant
heather, while Father threw thick bundles of it over them to serve
instead of blankets. Heather makes one of the most delicious beds in the
world. It is so soft, and yet so springy, and the purple blossom smells
so sweet, that one could scarcely wish to lie easier.
Father and Bobby were asleep in two minutes, but Peggy lay awake for a
long time, watching the shadows of the peat fire flicker upon the rough
beams of the roof, till at length fire and heather merged into a
dreamland kingdom, where she was walking with Rollo upon the clouds, and
fishing teacups out of a flowing sea below.