"Do not be jealous of me, dear heart, for if I had twice the tribute I
would give it to you and to Ireland."

But at the word jealous the Chief's anger revived.

"It is an impertinence," he cried, "to boast at this table that you
killed my father."

"By my hand," Goll replied, "if Fionn were to treat me as his father did
I would treat Fionn the way I treated Fionn's father."

Fionn closed his eyes and beat away the anger that was rising within
him. He smiled grimly.

"If I were so minded, I would not let that last word go with you, Goll,
for I have here an hundred men for every man of yours."

Goll laughed aloud.

"So had your father," he said.

Fionn's brother, Cairell Whiteskin, broke into the conversation with a
harsh laugh.

"How many of Fionn's household has the wonderful Goll put down?" he
cried.

But Goll's brother, bald Cona'n the Swearer, turned a savage eye on
Cairell.

"By my weapons," said he, "there were never less than an hundred-and-one
men with Goll, and the least of them could have put you down easily
enough."

"Ah?" cried Cairell. "And are you one of the hundred-and-one, old
scaldhead?"

"One indeed, my thick-witted, thin-livered Cairell, and I undertake to
prove on your hide that what my brother said was true and that what your
brother said was false."

"You undertake that," growled Cairell, and on the word he loosed a
furious buffet at Con'an, which Cona'n returned with a fist so big that
every part of Cairell's face was hit with the one blow. The two then
fell into grips, and went lurching and punching about the great hall.
Two of Oscar's sons could not bear to see their uncle being worsted, and
they leaped at Cona'n, and two of Goll's sons rushed at them. Then Oscar
himself leaped up, and with a hammer in either hand he went battering
into the melee.

"I thank the gods," said Cona'n, "for the chance of killing yourself,
Oscar."

These two encountered then, and Oscar knocked a groan of distress out of
Cona'n. He looked appealingly at his brother Art og mac Morna, and that
powerful champion flew to his aid and wounded Oscar. Oisi'n, Oscar's
father, could not abide that; he dashed in and quelled Art Og. Then
Rough Hair mac Morna wounded Oisin and was himself tumbled by mac Lugac,
who was again wounded by Gara mac Morna.

The banqueting hall was in tumult. In every part of it men were giving
and taking blows. Here two champions with their arms round each other's
necks were sta