urning the salutation.

"I thank you," replied the prince, "my arm is indeed strong, but my head
is not quite as clear as it might be."

"Love got anything to do with it?" asked Gadarn, with a knowing look.

"Not the love of woman, if that is what you mean."

"Truly that is what I do mean--though, of course, I admit that one's
horses and dogs have also a claim on our affections. What is it that
troubles you, my son?"

The affectionate conclusion of this reply, and the chief's manner, drew
the prince towards him, so that he became confidential.

"The truth is, Gadarn, that I am very anxious to know what news you have
of Cormac--for the fate of that poor boy hangs heavy on my mind.
Indeed, I should have refused to quit the Swamp, in spite of the king's
commands and my mother's entreaties, if you had not sent that message by
the Hebrew."

"Ah, Bladud, my young friend, that is an undutiful speech for a son to
make about his parents," said the chief, holding up a remonstrative
forefinger. "If that is the way you treat your natural parents, how can
I expect that--that--I mean--"

Here the chief was seized with a fit of sneezing, so violent, that it
made the prince quite concerned about the safety of his nose.

"Ha!" exclaimed Gadarn, as a final wind up to the last sneeze, "the air
of that Swamp seems to have been too strong for me. I'm growing old,
you see. Well--what was I saying?--never mind. You were referring to
that poor lad Cormac. Yes, I have news of him."

"Good news, I hope?" said the prince, anxiously. "O yes--very good--
excellent! That is to say--rather--somewhat indefinite news, for--for
the person who saw him told me--in fact, it is difficult to explain,
because people are often untrustworthy, and exaggerate reports, so that
it is not easy to make out what is true and what is false, or whether
both accounts may be true, or the whole thing false altogether. You
see, Bladud, our poor brains," continued the chief, in an argumentative
tone, "are so--so--queerly mixed up that one cannot tell--tell--why,
there was once a fellow in my army, whose manner of reporting any event,
no matter how simple, was so incomprehensible that it was impossible
to--to--but let me tell you an anecdote about him. His name was--"

"Forgive my interrupting you, chief, but I am so anxious to hear
something about my lost friend that--"

"Ha! Bladud, I fear that you are a selfish man, for you have not yet
asked about