shoots one at a stag and one at the heart of a foe, and one, it may
be, in sheer wantonness, and to try his bow, over a cliff edge into
the sea.

[Illustration: "There dwelt the red-haired ocean-nymphs"]

However, they put forth in their magic boat, but in no wise could they
direct it to the Isle of Finchory, and a quarter of a year they
traversed the seaways and never could get tidings of that island. At
last Brian fashioned for himself by magic art a water-dress, with a
helmet of crystal, and into the depths of the sea he plunged. Here,
the story tells, he searched hither and thither for a fortnight, till
at last he found that island, which was an island indeed with the sea
over it and around it and beneath it. There dwelt the red-haired
ocean-nymphs in glittering palaces among the sea-flowers, and they
wrought fair embroidery with gold and jewels, and sang, as they
wrought, a fairy music like the chiming of silver bells. Three fifties
of them sat or played in their great hall as Brian entered, and they
gazed on him but spoke no word. Then Brian strode to the wide hearth,
and without a word he seized from it a spit that was made of beaten
gold, and turned again to go. But at that the laughter of the
sea-maidens rippled through the hall and one of them said:

"Thou art a bold man, Brian, and bolder than thou knowest; for if
thy two brothers were here, the weakest of us could vanquish all the
three. Nevertheless, take the spit for thy daring; we had never
granted it for thy prayers."

So Brian thanked them and bade farewell, and he rose to the surface of
the water. Ere long his brethren perceived him as he shouldered the