ergus approached the high
king to receive the prize the cheers were renewed. But Fergus thought
more of the winsome glance of the princess than he did of the prize or
the sounding cheers. And Princess Maureen was almost sorry for her
vow, for her heart was touched by the beauty of the Fenian champion.

Other contests followed, and the day passed, and the night fell, and
while the Fenian warriors were revelling in their camps the heart of
Fergus, victor as he was, was sad and low. He escaped from his
companions, and stole away to his native forest, for--

"When the heart is sick and sorest,
There is balsam in the forest--
There is balsam in the forest
For its pain."

And as he lay under the spreading branches, watching the stars
glancing through the leaves, and listening to the slumb'rous murmur of
the waters, a strange peace came over him.

But in the camp which he had left, and in the vast multitude on the
plains of Tara, there was stir and revelry, and babbling speculation
as to the contest of to-morrow--the contest which was to decide
whether the chief bard of Erin was to hold his own against all
comers, or yield the palm. For rumour said that a great Skald had come
from the northern lands to compete with the Irish bard.

At last, over the Fenian camp, and over the great plain and the
multitude that thronged it, sleep fell, clothing them with a silence
as deep as that which dwelt in the forest, where, dreaming of the
princess, Fergus lay. He awoke at the first notes of the birds, but
though he felt he ought to go back to his companions and be witness of
the contest which might determine whether the princess was to be
another's bride, his great love and his utter despair of winning her
so oppressed him that he lay as motionless as a broken reed. He
scarcely heard the music of the birds, and paid no heed to the murmur
of the brook rushing by his feet. The crackling of branches near him
barely disturbed him, but when a shadow fell across his eyes he looked
up gloomily, and saw, or thought he saw, someone standing before him.
He started up, and who should he see but the little wizened old man
who found shelter in his father's hut on the stormy night.

[Illustration: "He started up, and who should he see but a little wizened
old man"--p. 136.]

"This is a nice place for a battle champion to be. This is a nice
place for _you_ t