other passageways. Brian wondered as to
his fate and what manner of death he was going to die; yet it seemed to
him that death was an impossible and far-off thing where he was
concerned.

He expected no less than death from the Dark Master, but at the same
time it was very hard to believe that he was going to that fate. He was
by no means afraid to die, but he felt that he would like to see the
Bird Daughter once more. Also, he had always thought of fate as coming
to him suddenly and swiftly in battle or foray; and to be deliberately
done to death in cold blood by hanging or otherwise was not as he would
have wished.

"At least," he thought without any great comfort, "Cathbarr and Turlough
will avenge me on the Dark Master--though I had liefer be living when
that was done!"

In one of the larger and lower corridors they came on two men bearing a
body, sewed for burial. Murrough stopped his party and growled out
something.

"It is the _seanachie_," answered one of the bearers. "Since the Dark
Master struck him yester-morn he has not spoken, and he died last
night."

Upon this Red Murrough crossed himself, as did the rest, muttered into
his tangle of red beard, and motioned Brian forward.

This wider passage gave through a doorway upon the great hall. There was
no dais, but the Dark Master was seated before the huge fireplace, his
wolf-hound crouched down at his side. The hall was pierced near the roof
with openings, and lower down with loopholes, so that when the sun shone
outside it was bright enough.

Red Murrough led Brian forward, the clank of the heavy chain-links
echoing hollowly through the place, but O'Donnell Dubh did not look up
until the two men stood a scant four paces from him. Then his head came
out from between his rounded shoulders and his eyes spat fire at Brian.

"A poor ending to proud talk, Brian Buidh!"

Brian tried to smile, but with ill success, for he was chilled to the
bone and there was blood on his face.

"I am not yet dead, O'Donnell."

"You will be soon enough," the Dark Master chuckled, and the hall
thrilled with evil laughter. In the eyes of all Brian had proven himself
the weaker man and therefore deserved his fate. "What of this O'Malley
journey of yours, eh?"

Brian made no answer, save that his strong lips clamped shut, and his
blue eyes narrowed a little. O'Donnell laughed and began to stroke his
wolf-hound.

"I have many messengers and many servants, Yellow Brian, an