When we had proceeded some way down the road my guide said.

"You shall now hear a wonderful echo," and shouting "taw, taw," the rocks replied in a manner something like the baying of hounds.

"Hark to the dogs!" exclaimed my companion.

"This pass is called Nant yr ieuanc gwn, the pass of the young dogs, because when one shouts it answers with a noise resembling the crying of hounds." The sun was setting when we came to a small village at the bottom of the pass.

I asked my companion its name.