The elderly man tossed his head proudly, and made no reply.
“A ranger means a guide, sir,” said the younger man; “my father-in-law is generally termed the Snowdon Ranger because he is a tip-top guide, and he has named the house after him the Snowdon Ranger. He entertains gentlemen in it who put themselves under his guidance in order to ascend Snowdon and to see the country.”
“There is some difference in your professions,” said “he deals in heights, you in depths, both, however, are break-necky trades.”
“I run more risk from gunpowder than anything else,” said the younger man. “I am a slate-miner, and am continually blasting. I have, however, had my falls. Are you going far to-night, sir?”
“I am going to Beth Gelert,” said I.
“A good six miles, sir, from here. Do you come from Caernarvon?”
“Farther than that,” said I. “I come from Bangor.”
“To-day, sir, and walking?”
“To-day, and walking.”
“You must be rather tired, sir, you came along the valley very slowly.”