ember. A whole new life had come on this boy, a life that was
instant and memorable, so that his present memories blended into and
obscured the past, and he could not be quite sure if that which he told
of had happened in this world or in the world he had left.

CHAPTER VII

"I used to live," he said, "in a wide, beautiful place. There were hills
and valleys there, and woods and streams, but in whatever direction I
went I came always to a cliff, so tall it seemed to lean against the
sky, and so straight that even a goat would not have imagined to climb
it."

"I do not know of any such place," Fionn mused.

"There is no such place in Ireland," said Caelte, "but in the Shi' there
is such a place."

"There is in truth," said Fionn.

"I used to eat fruits and roots in the summer," the boy continued, "but
in the winter food was left for me in a cave."

"Was there no one with you?" Fionn asked.

"No one but a deer that loved me, and that I loved."

"Ah me!" cried Fionn in anguish, "tell me your tale, my son."

"A dark stern man came often after us, and he used to speak with the
deer. Sometimes he talked gently and softly and coaxingly, but at times
again he would shout loudly and in a harsh, angry voice. But whatever
way he talked the deer would draw away from him in dread, and he always
left her at last furiously."

"It is the Dark Magician of the Men of God," cried Fionn despairingly.

"It is indeed, my soul," said Caelte.

"The last time I saw the deer," the child continued, "the dark man was
speaking to her. He spoke for a long time. He spoke gently and angrily,
and gently and angrily, so that I thought he would never stop talking,
but in the end he struck her with a hazel rod, so that she was forced
to follow him when he went away. She was looking back at me all the time
and she was crying so bitterly that any one would pity her. I tried to
follow her also, but I could not move, and I cried after her too, with
rage and grief, until I could see her no more and hear her no more. Then
I fell on the grass, my senses went away from me, and when I awoke I was
on the hill in the middle of the hounds where you found me."

That was the boy whom the Fianna called Oisi'n, or the Little Fawn. He
grew to be a great fighter afterwards, and he was the chief maker of
poems in the world. But he was not yet finished with the Shi. He was to
go back into Faery when the time came, and to come thence again to tell
these t