He took us home by a romantic path which we had never before seen, and on our way pointed out to us a small house in which he said he was born.
The day after, finding myself on the banks of the Dee in the upper part of the valley, I determined to examine the Llam Lleidyr or Robber's Leap, which I had heard spoken of on a former occasion.

A man passing near me with a cart I asked him where the Robber's Leap was.

I spoke in English, and with a shake of his head he replied "Dim Saesneg." On my putting the question to him in Welsh, however, his countenance brightened up.
"Dyna Llam Lleidyr, sir!" said he, pointing to a very narrow part of the stream a little way down.
"And did the thief take it from this side ?" I demanded.
"Yes, sir, from this side," replied the man.
I thanked him, and passing over the dry part of the river's bed, came to the Llam Lleidyr.

The whole water of the Dee in the dry season gurgles here through a passage not more than four feet across, which, however, is evidently profoundly deep, as the water is as dark as pitch.

If the thief ever took the leap he must have taken it in the dry season, for in the wet the Dee is a wide and roaring torrent.