ghty strokes they gave with the _coman_ he guessed that these were the
twelve sons of Bawr Sculloge, for none but them could drive the ball so
high and far. Tremendous were their strokes, and, when they ran after
the ball, they outstripped the wind.

As Fion drew rein and dismounted, they stopped their play; and, drawing
near, welcomed him loudly as the helper of the weak, and the protector
of the green island against the white-faced stranger.

When he had returned their greeting, they invited him to join them in
their game--if such an amusement was agreeable to him.

'Fion, son of Cumhail,' said one, 'here, take my _coman_ and wipe away
the vanity and conceit of all comers, for we are practising for a great
contest.'

Fion took the _coman_ and looked at it, holding it up between his finger
and thumb.

'I doubt if I could do much good with this plaything,' said Fion; 'it
would break at first blow if I were to strike at all hard.'

'Never let that stand in the way,' returned the other. 'Wait!'

He then searched upon the ground among the blades of grass, and at
length found a nettle, which he pulled up by the roots. Having breathed
a charm over it, he passed it three times from one hand to the other,
and lo, it was changed into a mighty _coman_, fit for the hand of Fion,
son of Cumhail.

Then they were amazed at his terrific blows. The ball, struck by Fion,
soared almost out of sight in the sky, and fell to earth far off. But,
each time, the fleet-footed sons of Bawr Sculloge retrieved it.

At last Fion bared his arm to the shoulder, and, with a final blow, sent
the ball out of sight. None saw it go; none saw it fall. They all stood
and looked at each other.

'My hand on it,' said the eldest son of Bawr, advancing to Fion. 'I live
to admit that I never saw the game played till to-day.'

As they were speaking, a voice hailed them; and, turning seawards, they
saw a small boat approaching. As soon as it touched the beach, a man
sprang ashore, and hastened towards them.

'Hail! Fion, son of Cumhail!' he cried. 'You are known to me, though not
I to you. My lady, the Queen of Sciana Breaca, lays a knight's task upon
you. Hasten forthwith, and have speech with her on her island. The hand
of Flat Ear the Witch is upon her, and her chiefs have advised her to
summon you to her aid.'

'I know it,' replied Fion. 'The Salmon of Wisdom, which comes up from
the sea, breeds knowledge in my brain. I know what is passing in