ne.

Brian and Turlough built a fire apart, and after their repast Brian
broke silence with a request for information about Cathbarr. It was his
first speech since the parting with the Dark Master.

"I never heard of him," responded Turlough. "No doubt he is some outlaw
who has become a thorn in the Dark Master's flesh. With the woman it is
different."

"Tell me of her," said Brian, gazing into the fire.

"She is an O'Malley, and, like all the clan, makes much of ships and
seamen and little of horses and riders. When the Dark Master came, ten
years ago, he slew her father and mother by treachery, and would have
slain her but that her men carried her off. She was a child then. Now
she is a woman, very bitter against O'Donnell Dubh, and is allied with
the Parliament so that her ships may have the run of the seas, it is
said. O'Donnell takes sides with no faction, but caters to all. He lays
nets and snares, and men fall into them, and he laughs."

"Why is Nuala O'Malley called the Bird Daughter?" asked Brian quietly.

At this question old Turlough rose on his elbow, and in his wide, gray
eyes was set mingled fear and wonder.

"_M'anam an diaoul!_" he spat out. "Who are you to know this thing?"

"Answer my question," returned Brian, hiding his own surprise.

"Seven years ago, master, I was at Sligo Bay with O'Dowda when Hamilton
cut us to pieces. Nuala O'Malley had brought us some powder--she was but
a slip of a girl then. In the evening I was down at the ship when I saw
her come from below, a hooded pigeon in her hands. She whispered in the
bird's ear, set off the hood, and the bird flew into the night. I named
her Bird Daughter, but no other man knew the name."

"Then a woman did," chuckled Brian dryly. "It was but a carrier pigeon,
Turlough; I have seen them used in Spain. Now listen to me."

With that he told him of the Black Woman and his weird meeting at Dee
water. Old Turlough listened in no little amazement, for he was full of
superstitious fancies, but Brian said nothing of his own name. The
uncanny prophecies, however, which now seemed on the road to fulfilment
were enough to give any man pause.

When he had finished, a very subdued Turlough Wolf stated that the Black
Woman was an old hag who wandered all over the land, that some called
her crazy and others thought her inspired, and that his own belief was
that she was a banshee, no less.

At this Brian saw the thing in a more rational light. The old