.

HOW OSWALD CROSSED THE DYFED CLIFFS, AND MET WITH FRIENDS.
Now I halted before I lifted my head above the skyline, and listened with a fear on me lest I should hear the sound of running feet, and I was the more careful because I knew that the snow which lay white and deep on all the open land might deaden any sounds thereof.

But I heard nothing save the wail of the wind overhead as it rose in gusts.

I wondered if Thorgils would be able to bide in this little cove, or must needs put out to seek some other haven.
There seemed to be a swell setting into it.
So I crept yet farther up the path, crouching behind a point of rock, and thence I saw a dark line on the snow that seemed to promise a road, and that must surely lead to some house or village.
I went forward to it with all caution, and with my head over my shoulder, as they say, but I saw no man.

This track led east and west, and was well trodden by cattle, but there were few footprints of men on it, so far as I could see.