oblige me very much."

"I'll do that with a heart and a half," replied Oonagh; "and, indeed,
Granua, I feel myself under great obligations to you for your kindness
in keeping him off us till we see what can be done; for what would
become of us all if anything happened to Finn, poor man!"

She accordingly got the largest miscaun of butter she had--which might
be about the weight of a couple of dozen millstones, so that you can
easily judge of its size--and calling up her sister, "Granua," says she,
"are you ready? I'm going to throw you up a miscaun, so be prepared to
catch it."

"I will," said the other. "A good throw, now, and take care it does not
fall short."

Oonagh threw it, but in consequence of her anxiety about Finn and Far
Rua she forgot to say the charm that was to send it up, so that instead
of reaching Cullamore, as she expected, it fell about half-way between
the two hills at the edge of the Broad Bog, near Augher.

"My curse upon you!" she exclaimed, "you've disgraced me. I now change
you into a grey stone. Lie there as a testimony of what has happened,
and may evil betide the first living man that will ever attempt to move
or injure you!"

And, sure enough, there it lies to this day, with the mark of the four
fingers and thumb imprinted on it, exactly as it came out of her hand.

"Never mind," said Granua, "I must only do the best I can with Far Rua.
If all fail, I'll give him a cast of heather broth, or a panada of oak
bark. But, above all things, think of some plan to get Finn out of the
scrape he's in, or he's a lost man. You know you used to be sharp and
ready-witted; and my own opinion is, Oonagh, that it will go hard with
you, or you'll outdo Far Rua yet."

She then made a high smoke on the top of the hill, after which she put
her finger in her mouth and gave three whistles, and by that Far Rua
knew that he was invited to the top of Cullamore--for this was the way
that the Irish long ago gave a sign to all strangers and travellers to
let them know they are welcome to come and take share of whatever was
going.

In the meantime Finn was very melancholy, and did not know what to do,
or how to act at all. Far Rua was an ugly customer, no doubt, to meet
with; and, moreover, the idea of the confounded "cake" aforesaid
flattened the very heart within him. What chance could he have, strong
and brave as he was, with a man who could, when put in a passion, walk
the country into earthquakes and kno