d further behind. And at last, as he stretched out his
little arms to them over the hunter's velvet shoulder, Ailbe saw them
stop in the road panting, with one last howl of farewell. They had given
up the hopeless chase. And with their tails between their legs and their
heads drooping low they slunk back to their lonely den where they would
never see their little boy playmate any more. It was a sad day for good
wolf-mother.

But the hunter carried little Ailbe home with him on the horse's back.
And he found a new mother there to receive him. Ailbe never knew who his
first mother was, but she must have been a bad, cruel woman. His second
mother was the kind wolf. And this one, the third, was a beautiful
Princess. For the hunter who had found the child was a Prince, and he
lived in a grand castle by a lake near Tipperary, with hundreds of
servants and horses and dogs and little pages for Ailbe to play with.
And here he lived and was very happy; and here he learned all the things
which in those days made a little boy grow up into a wise and great man.
He grew up so wise and great that he was made a Bishop and had a palace
of his own in the town of Emly. People came to see him from far and
near, who made him presents, and asked him questions, and ate his
dinners.

But though he had grown so great and famous Ailbe had never forgotten
his second mother, the good wolf, nor his four-footed brothers, in their
coats of gray fur. And sometimes when his visitors were stupid and
stayed a long time, or when they asked too many questions, or when they
made him presents which he did not like, Ailbe longed to be back in the
forest with the good beasts. For they had much more sense, though they
had never kissed the Blarney Stone, which makes one talk good Irish.

A great many years afterwards there was one day a huge hunt in Emly. All
the lords for miles around were out chasing the wild beasts, and among
them was the Prince, Ailbe's foster-father. But the Bishop himself was
not with them. He did not see any sport in killing poor creatures. It
was almost night, and the people of Emly were out watching for the
hunters to return. The Bishop was coming down the village street on his
way from church, when the sound of horns came over the hills close by,
and he knew the chase was nearing home.

Louder and louder came the "tantaratara!" of the horns, and then he
could hear the gallopy thud of the horses' hoofs and the yelp of the
hounds. Bu