rald. Him Brian slew with a blow of his ax that
went from shoulder to saddle.

From his men he gained fifty recruits and no small booty, both of money
and horses; and from the O'Connors he took bitter blood-fine for his
slain men in spare horses and provisions.

These doings are set down briefly in the chronicle; but when Brian
turned east again, with Swineford a hard day's ride away, he once more
had a hundred and fifty men at his back, with a good store of all
things, while his name was one that spread fear. He left his men camped
two miles out of Swineford, on the Moy, and rode next morning into the
town with a dozen horsemen only.

In the town was quartered a small force of Maguires from Fermanagh, and
as he rode in Brian was halted by their leader, who gave him the sele of
the day and asked his name. Brian held out his passport, and after
Maguire had fumbled over it and pretended that he could read, he gave it
back with a grin and Brian passed on with another.

The seal of the Confederacy on the safe-conduct was quite enough for any
man in these parts, however.

Brian had not ridden a hundred paces farther before he saw one of
Turlough's men beckoning to him from the door of an inn, so he left his
troopers to drink outside and passed within. Turlough's man joined him
at a table, and there Brian gained news of the most cheering.

Six days before this the Dark Master had arrived at Swineford, with
Turlough an hour behind him. The old Wolf, whose cunning made up for his
lack of courage, had made shift to get two of O'Donnell's dozen men
embroiled with the Maguires. The upshot of that had been a fight,
followed by a delay of two days for investigation; finally the Dark
Master had slipped away, his two men had promptly been hung, and
Turlough had meantime gone ahead to prepare fresh delays at Bellahy and
Tobercurry. He had four men left with him, though he had left Bertragh
with ten.

"Then O'Donnell has four days' start of me," reflected Brian. "If
Turlough can hold him, we will catch him at Sligo at latest."

He left the inn and rode back to his camp, where he had the men on the
road in ten minutes. Tobercurry was only fifteen miles north, and
putting his horses to a gallop, Brian rode hard and fast until that
afternoon he came into the place. He found no garrison, but, instead,
was met by old Turlough himself, with a bandaged head and two wounded
men.

"_Mile failte!_" cried Turlough joyously, running forw