ticularly drink. So all were well content
for the time being.

"Turlough," asked Brian suddenly, as they rode side by side, "did you
ever hear of one called the Black Woman?"

The Wolf crossed himself and grimaced.

"That I have, Yellow Brian, but dimly. They say she deals in magic and
sorcery, and no good comes of meeting with her. But stop--there are
horsemen on the road! Scatter the men, and quickly; let us two bide
here."

There was cunning in the advice, for the two had come to a bend in the
road and the men were a hundred yards behind them. Brian drew rein at
sight of a score of men a scant quarter-mile away and riding up the hill
toward them. He knew that they must also have been seen, but his men
would still be out of sight, so he turned with a quick word:

"Off into the rocks, men! If I raise my sword, come and strike. Off!"

As he spoke he bared that same huge cut-or-thrust brand he had borne
from Drogheda and set the point on his boot. Instantly the men scattered
on either side the road, where black rocks thrust up from the snow, and
within two minutes they and their horses had disappeared.

The riders below came steadily forward in a clump, and Brian saw old
Turlough staring with bulging eyes. Then the Wolf half caught at his
bridle, as if minded to fly, and his hands were trembling.

"What ails you, man?" smiled Brian. "Are they magicians and sorcerers,
then?"

"No, _fareer gair_--worse luck!" blurted out the other. "Look at the
little man who rides first, Yellow Brian!"

Brian squinted against the snow-glare, and saw that the leader of the
approaching party seemed indeed to be a little man with hunched
shoulders and head that glinted steel.

"A hunchback!" he exclaimed. "Well, who is he?"

"The Dark Master--O'Donnell More himself! It is in my mind that this is
a black day, Brian Buidh. O'Donnell More is the master of all men at
craft, and the match of most men at weapons. Beware of him, master,
beware! I had thought that he was still under siege at Bertragh Castle,
else I had never taken this road."

"Nonsense!" laughed out Brian joyously, drinking in the clear afternoon
air. "So much the more honor if we slay him, Turlough Wolf! Let him
match me at weapons, or you at wits, if he can!"

Turlough muttered something and drew back behind Brian's steed with
pallid face. Yellow Brian, however, having a sure trust in his own right
arm and his hidden men, scanned the approaching O'Donnell curious