hirty years, and no man of all the Fianna was keener and
hardier in fight. There was also another Conan, namely, mac Morna,
who was big and bald, and unwieldy in manly exercises, but whose
tongue was bitter and scurrilous; no high brave thing was done that
Conan the Bald did not mock and belittle. It is said that when he was
stripped he showed down his back and buttocks a black sheep's fleece
instead of a man's skin, and this is the way it came about. One day
when Conan and certain others of the Fianna were hunting in the forest
they came to a stately Dun, white-walled, with coloured thatching on
the roof, and they entered it to seek hospitality. But when they were
within they found! no man, but a great empty hall with pillars of
cedar wood and silken hangings about it, like the hall of a wealthy
lord. In the midst there was a table set forth with a sumptuous feast
of boar's flesh and venison, and a great vat of yew wood full of red
wine, and cups of gold and silver. So they set themselves gaily to eat
and drink, for they were hungry from the chase, and talk and laughter
were loud around the board. But one of them ere long started to his
feet with a cry of fear and wonder, and they all looked round, and saw
before their eyes the tapestried walls changing to rough wooden balks
and the ceiling to foul sooty thatch like that of a herdsman's hut. So
they knew they were being entrapped by some enchantment of the Fairy
Folk, and all sprang to their feet and made for the doorway, that was
no longer high and stately but was shrinking to the size of a fox
earth,--all but Conan the Bald, who was gluttonously devouring the
good things on the table, and heeded nothing else. Then they shouted
to him, and as the last of them went out he strove to rise and follow,
but found himself limed to the chair so that he could not stir. So
two of the Fianna, seeing his plight, rushed back and seized his arms
and tugged with all their might, and if they dragged him away, they
left the most part of his raiment and his skin sticking to the chair.
Then, not knowing what else to do with him in his sore plight they
clapped upon his back the nearest thing they could find, which was the
skin of a black sheep that they took from a peasant's flock hard by,
and it grew there, and Conan wore it till his death.

Though Conan was a coward and rarely adventured himself in battle with
the Fianna, it is told that once a good man fell by his hand. This was
on th