"Who comes?" he called.

"A friend," said the newcomer.

"Give a friend's name," said Fionn.

"Fiacuil mac Cona," was the answer.

"Ah, my pulse and heart!" cried Fionn, and he strode a few paces to meet
the great robber who had fostered him among the marshes.

"So you are not afraid," he said joyfully.

"I am afraid in good truth," Fiacuil whispered, "and the minute my
business with you is finished I will trot back as quick as legs will
carry me. May the gods protect my going as they protected my coming,"
said the robber piously.

"Amen," said Fionn, "and now, tell me what you have come for?"

"Have you any plan against this lord of the Shl?" Fiacuil whispered.

"I will attack him," said Fionn.

"That is not a plan," the other groaned, "we do not plan to deliver an
attack but to win a victory."

"Is this a very terrible person?" Fionn asked.

"Terrible indeed. No one can get near him or away from him. He comes out
of the Shi' playing sweet, low music on a timpan and a pipe, and all who
hear this music fall asleep."

"I will not fall asleep," said Fionn.

"You will indeed, for everybody does."

"What happens then?" Fionn asked.

"When all are asleep Aillen mac Midna blows a dart of fire out of his
mouth, and everything that is touched by that fire is destroyed, and he
can blow his fire to an incredible distance and to any direction."

"You are very brave to come to help me," Fionn murmured, "especially
when you are not able to help me at all."

"I can help," Fiacuil replied, "but I must be paid."

"What payment?"

"A third of all you earn and a seat at your council."

"I grant that," said Fionn, "and now, tell me your plan?"

"You remember my spear with the thirty rivets of Arabian gold in its
socket?"

"The one," Fionn queried, "that had its head wrapped in a blanket and
was stuck in a bucket of water and was chained to a wall as well--the
venomous Birgha?" "That one," Fiacuil replied.

"It is Aillen mac Midna's own spear," he continued, "and it was taken
out of his Shi' by your father."

"Well?" said Fionn, wondering nevertheless where Fiacuil got the spear,
but too generous to ask.

"When you hear the great man of the Shi' coming, take the wrappings off
the head of the spear and bend your face over it; the heat of the spear,
the stench of it, all its pernicious and acrid qualities will prevent
you from going to sleep."

"Are you sure of that?" said Fionn.

"You couldn't go to slee