he numbered Llewelyn and Howel, he marched
southward himself, hoping to overthrow this new force before it had
gathered power sufficient to be dangerous.

Wendot would gladly have been of the number, for inaction, and the rude
barbarism he saw around him, were inexpressibly galling to him; and the
more he saw of the savage spirits by whom he was surrounded the less he
was able to hope for any permanent advantage as the result of this
rising. The jealousies of the respective chiefs were hardly held in
check even in the face of a common peril. It was impossible not to
foresee that the termination of a war with England would only be the
signal for an outbreak of innumerable petty animosities and hostile feuds.

So Wendot would have been thankful to escape from this irksome
inactivity, and to join the band going south; but the condition of
Griffeth withheld him, for the youth was very ill, and he often felt
that this winter of hardship up in the mountain air was killing him by
inches, although he never complained.

It was out of the question for Griffeth to march or to fight. He lay
most of the day beside a little fire of peat, in a cabin that Wendot and
his men had constructed with their own hands, beneath the shelter of a
rock which broke the force of the north wind, and formed some protection
against the deep snow. Griffeth had borne his share gallantly in the
earlier part of the campaign, but a slight wound had laid him aside; and
since the intense cold had come, he had only grown more white and wasted
and feeble day by day. Now that the sun was gaining a little more power,
and that the melting of the snow bespoke that spring was at hand, Wendot
began to hope the worst was over; but to leave his brother in such a
state was out of the question, and he saw Llewelyn and Howel depart
without attempting to join them.

Days and weeks had passed, and no news had been received by those up in
the mountains of the result of Llewelyn's expedition. It was reported by
scouts that Edward was at Carnarvon Castle in person, making hostile
demonstrations of a determined kind, which, in the absence of their
chief, the wild Welsh kerns knew not how to repel. They were safe where
they were, and awaited the return of their leader; but a terrible stroke
had yet to fall upon them, which proved the final blow to all their
hopes and ambitions.

It was a wild, windy night. Wendot had piled the fire high, and was
sitting with Griffeth talki