Another deep Celtic voice broke in upon the old man's speech.
"Ay, it is a steep path to the Teacher, Lluellyn is ever near to Heaven!"
Joseph had never heard Welsh before. He did not know a single word of that old tongue which all our ancestors of Britain used before ever St. Augustine came to England's shores with the news and message of Christ's death and passion.
Yet, at that moment Joseph understood exactly what the man said. The extraordinary fact did not strike him at the time, it was long afterwards that he remembered it as one of the least of the wondrous things that had befallen him.
He answered at once without a moment's pause.
"Lead on," he said; "I am with you. Take me to Lluellyn, the Teacher!"
Joseph turned. He saw that by the wayside there was a rough arm-chair hung between two long poles. Still moving as a man in a dream, he sat down on it. In a moment he was lifted up on the shoulders of four men, and began to ascend a narrow, winding path among the heather.
On and up! On and up!
Now they have passed out of ordinary ways, and are high upon the trackless hills. A dead silence surrounds them; the air is keen and life-giving; the workaday world seems very far away.
On and up! Joseph is carried to his fate. Suddenly the old man who walked in front stopped.