Chapter 1
EVENING was drawing nigh, and the Fianna-Finn had decided to
hunt no more that day. The hounds were whistled to heel, and a
sober, homeward march began. For men will walk soberly in the
evening, however they go in the day, and dogs will take the mood
from their masters. They were pacing so, through the
golden-shafted, tender-coloured eve, when a fawn leaped suddenly
from covert, and, with that leap, all quietness vanished: the men
shouted, the dogs gave tongue, and a furious chase commenced.
Fionn loved a chase at any hour, and, with Bran and Sceo'lan, he
outstripped the men and dogs of his troop, until nothing remained
in the limpid world but Fionn, the two hounds, and the nimble,
beautiful fawn. These, and the occasional boulders, round which
they raced, or over wh
