ned, and his heart grew light within him.

While he was thus waiting there ran up to him a youth, scarcely able to
speak so swiftly had he sped; and he cried aloud:

'Hasten, hasten, Covan the Brown-haired, for your cows are in the corn,
and you must drive them out!'

'Nay,' said Covan smiling, 'it had been easier for you to have driven
them out than to come here to tell me.' And he went on listening to the
music.

Very soon the same youth returned and cried with panting breath:

'Out upon you, Covan son of Gorla, that you stand there agape. For our
dogs are chasing your cows, and you must drive them off!'

'Nay, then,' answered Covan as before, 'it had been easier for you to
call off your dogs than to come here to tell me.' And he stayed where he
was till the music ceased.

Then he turned to look for the cows, and found them all lying in the
place where he had left them; but when they saw Covan they rose up and
walked homewards, taking a different path to that they had trod in the
morning. This time they passed over a plain so bare that a pin could not
have lain there unnoticed, yet Covan beheld with surprise a foal and its
mother feeding there, both as fat as if they had pastured on the richest
grass. Further on they crossed another plain, where the grass was thick
and green, but on it were feeding a foal and its mother, so lean that
you could have counted their ribs. And further again the path led them
by the shores of a lake whereon were floating two boats; one full of gay
and happy youths, journeying to the land of the Sun, and another with
grim shapes clothed in black, travelling to the land of Night.

'What can these things mean?' said Covan to himself, as he followed his
cows.

Darkness now fell, the wind howled, and torrents of rain poured upon
them. Covan knew not how far they might yet have to go, or indeed if
they were on the right road. He could not even see his cows, and his
heart sank lest, after all, he should have failed to bring them safely
back. What was he to do?

He waited thus, for he could go neither forwards nor backwards, till he
felt a great friendly paw laid on his shoulder.

'My cave is just here,' said the Dog of Maol-mor, of whom Covan son of
Gorla had heard much. 'Spend the night here, and you shall be fed on the
flesh of lamb, and shall lay aside three-thirds of thy weariness.'

And Covan entered, and supped, and slept, and in the morning rose up a
new man.

'Farewell, Cov