mping round and round in a slow, sad dance. Here were two
crouching against each other, looking for a soft place to hit. Yonder a
big-shouldered person lifted another man in his arms and threw him at a
small group that charged him. In a retired corner a gentleman stood in
a thoughtful attitude while he tried to pull out a tooth that had been
knocked loose.

"You can't fight," he mumbled, "with a loose shoe or a loose tooth."

"Hurry up with that tooth," the man in front of him grum-bled, "for I
want to knock out another one."

Pressed against the wall was a bevy of ladies, some of whom were
screaming and some laughing and all of whom were calling on the men to
go back to their seats.

Only two people remained seated in the hall.

Goll sat twisted round watching the progress of the brawl critically,
and Fionn, sitting opposite, watched Goll.

Just then Faelan, another of Fionn's sons, stormed the hall with three
hundred of the Fianna, and by this force all Goll's people were put out
of doors, where the fight continued.

Goll looked then calmly on Fionn.

"Your people are using their weapons," said he.

"Are they?" Fionn inquired as calmly, and as though addressing the air.

"In the matter of weapons--!" said Goll.

And the hard-fighting pillar of battle turned to where his arms hung on
the wall behind him. He took his solid, well-balanced sword in his fist,
over his left arm his ample, bossy shield, and, with another side-look
at Fionn, he left the hall and charged irresistibly into the fray.

Fionn then arose. He took his accoutrements from the wall also and
strode out. Then he raised the triumphant Fenian shout and went into the
combat.

That was no place for a sick person to be. It was not the corner which
a slender-fingered woman would choose to do up her hair; nor was it the
spot an ancient man would select to think quietly in, for the tumult of
sword on sword, of axe on shield, the roar of the contending parties,
the crying of wounded men, and the screaming of frightened women
destroyed peace, and over all was the rallying cry of Goll mac Morna and
the great shout of Fionn.

Then Fergus True-Lips gathered about him all the poets of the Fianna,
and they surrounded the combatants. They began to chant and intone
long, heavy rhymes and incantations, until the rhythmic beating of their
voices covered even the noise of war, so that the men stopped hacking
and hewing, and let their weapons drop from their