om Fionn brought Goll raging to his
assistance like a lion that rages tenderly by his mate. Not even a call
was necessary, for Goll felt in his heart when Fionn was threatened, and
he would leave Fionn's own brother only half-killed to fly where his arm
was wanted. He was never thanked, of course, for although Fionn loved
Goll he did not like him, and that was how Goll felt towards Fionn.

Fionn, with Cona'n the Swearer and the dogs Bran and Sceo'lan, was
sitting on the hunting-mound at the top of Cesh Corran. Below and around
on every side the Fianna were beating the coverts in Legney and Brefny,
ranging the fastnesses of Glen Dallan, creeping in the nut and beech
forests of Carbury, spying among the woods of Kyle Conor, and ranging
the wide plain of Moy Conal.

The great captain was happy: his eyes were resting on the sights he
liked best--the sunlight of a clear day, the waving trees, the pure
sky, and the lovely movement of the earth; and his ears were filled with
delectable sounds--the baying of eager dogs, the clear calling of young
men, the shrill whistling that came from every side, and each sound of
which told a definite thing about the hunt. There was also the plunge
and scurry of the deer, the yapping of badgers, and the whirr of birds
driven into reluctant flight.

CHAPTER II

Now the king of the Shi' of Cesh Corran, Conaran, son of Imidel, was
also watching the hunt, but Fionn did not see him, for we cannot see the
people of Faery until we enter their realm, and Fionn was not thinking
of Faery at that moment. Conaran did not like Fionn, and, seeing that
the great champion was alone, save for Cona'n and the two hounds Bran
and Sceo'lan, he thought the time had come to get Fionn into his power.
We do not know what Fionn had done to Conaran, but it must have been bad
enough, for the king of the Shi' of Cesh Cotran was filled with joy
at the sight of Fionn thus close to him, thus unprotected, thus
unsuspicious.

This Conaran had four daughters. He was fond of them and proud of them,
but if one were to search the Shi's of Ireland or the land of Ireland,
the equal of these four would not be found for ugliness and bad humour
and twisted temperaments.

Their hair was black as ink and tough as wire: it stuck up and poked out
and hung down about their heads in bushes and spikes and tangles. Their
eyes were bleary and red. Their mouths were black and twisted, and in
each of these mouths there was a hedge of