that had your arms stretched out to her."

At that wise Fionn put his hand before his eyes, seeing all that
happened.

"Tell on your tale," said he.

"She ran to those arms, and when she reached them the figure lifted
its hand. It touched her with a hazel rod, and, while we looked, she
disappeared, and where she had been there was a fawn standing and
shivering. The fawn turned and bounded towards the gate of the Dun, but
the hounds that were by flew after her."

Fionn stared on him like a lost man.

"They took her by the throat--" the shivering servant whispered.

"Ah!" cried Fionn in a terrible voice.

"And they dragged her back to the figure that seemed to be Fionn. Three
times she broke away and came bounding to us, and three times the dogs
took her by the throat and dragged her back."

"You stood to look!" the Chief snarled.

"No, master, we ran, but she vanished as we got to her; the great hounds
vanished away, and that being that seemed to be Fionn disappeared with
them. We were left in the rough grass, staring about us and at each
other, and listening to the moan of the wind and the terror of our
hearts."

"Forgive us, dear master," the servant cried. But the great captain made
him no answer. He stood as though he were dumb and blind, and now and
again he beat terribly on his breast with his closed fist, as though he
would kill that within him which should be dead and could not die. He
went so, beating on his breast, to his inner room in the Dun, and he was
not seen again for the rest of that day, nor until the sun rose over Moy
Life' in the morning.

CHAPTER V

For many years after that time, when he was not fighting against the
enemies of Ireland, Fionn was searching and hunting through the length
and breadth of the country in the hope that he might again chance on his
lovely lady from the Shi'. Through all that time he slept in misery each
night and he rose each day to grief. Whenever he hunted he brought only
the hounds that he trusted, Bran and Sceo'lan, Lomaire, Brod, and Lomlu;
for if a fawn was chased each of these five great dogs would know if
that was a fawn to be killed or one to be protected, and so there was
small danger to Saeve and a small hope of finding her.

Once, when seven years had passed in fruitless search, Fionn and the
chief nobles of the Fianna were hunting Ben Gulbain. All the hounds of
the Fianna were out, for Fionn had now given up hope of encountering
the Flowe