d up and his head drawn in like the head of a turtle.
Brian wished now that he had struck first and talked afterward.

Finally the Dark Master looked up with a slow smile.

"Welcome to you, Brian of the hard eyes and hollow cheeks," he said.
"_Slaintahut!_ I will not give you men, but I will give you the loan of
men if you will do me one of two favors. Ten miles to the south of here
there is an old tower on a cliff, and in the tower dwells a man with
certain companions who sets me at naught. On an island out near Golam
Head is a castle where a woman rules, who has also set me at naught. Go,
reduce either of these twain, and I will lend you twoscore men for three
months."

Brian sat his great horse and looked at the Dark Master. He would have
sought advice from Turlough Wolf, save that he did not like to turn his
back on those burning eyes. After all, the pact was not a bad one.

"These enemies of yours--who are they, and what force have they?"

The Dark Master chuckled, and his head shot out from between his
shoulders.

"The man is called Cathbarr of the Ax, and he is a hard man to fight,
for he has ten men like himself, axmen all. The woman cannot fight, but
she has a swift mind, many men, and her name is Nuala O'Malley, of the
O'Malleys of Erris."

"I had sooner fight a man than a woman," returned Brian slowly. "Also,
this Cathbarr of the Ax has fewer men. I will do you this favor,
O'Donnell Dubh."

He gave no sign of the wonder that had shot into his mind at the name of
Cathbarr, except that his blue eyes seemed changed suddenly to cold ice.
The Dark Master saw the change, and his smile withered. Brian, watching
him, reflected that this malformed freebooter could be venomous-looking
at times.

"I have passed my word," O'Donnell the Black made curt answer. "Fetch
either of the twain to Bertragh, dead or alive, and you have the loan of
twoscore men for three months, free. Is it a pact?"

"It is a pact," answered Brian, and at that the other galloped back to
his men.

Brian swung his sword and flung it high into the air; before it had
flashed down to nestle in his palm again, his men were scrambling into
the road. He sheathed the sword, smiling a little, and turned to
Turlough.

"Well? To your mind or not, Wolf?"

"My father saw the Brown Geraldine at Dublin," responded that worthy,
scratching the gray beard which had begun to sprout. "They broke his
bones with the back of an ax and swung him out in a c