ther 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 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 grey 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.

_Ailbe finds the Wolf-Mother again_

A great many years afterward 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 sounds 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 thud of the horses' hoofs and the yelp of the hounds.
But suddenly the Bishop's heart stood still. Among all the other noises
of the chase he heard a sound which made him think--think--think. It was
the long-drawn howl of a wolf, a sad howl of fear and weariness and
pain. It spoke a language which he had almost forgotten. But hardly had
he time to think again and remember before down the village street came
a gaunt figure, flying in long leaps from the foremost dogs who were
snapping at her heels. It was Ailbe's wolf-mother.

He recognized her as soon as he saw her green eyes and the patch of
white on her right foreleg. And she recognized him too--how