As for Fin, he turned as white as the childish clothes he was wearing, and trembled from top to toe.
“Not a minute to waste quaking and shaking!” cried Oonagh. “Into the cradle with you, Fin, and a stout heart inside you! Lie quiet now; never forget you’re but a child; and not a word out of you till you see it’s the time.”
Into the cradle clambered Fin, stumbling and grumbling and barking his shins. Oonagh tucked him in.
“Fold up your knees under your chin,” cautioned she. “Not a move now, or you’ll burst the cradle! Close up your eyes; put your thumb in your mouth like an innocent babe fast asleep. Quiet now, and leave Cucullin to me.”
Oonagh smoothed out her apron and patted her hair. Down on the doorstep she sat and began to knit, as cool and airy as the dawn on Knockmany.
Up the hill in three leaps came Cucullin. Such a giant Oonagh had never seen. Half again as tall as Fin he was, with muscles that stood out like small hills. But Oonagh was not one to let herself be surprised. So, while she saw all this beneath her eyelashes, she kept on with her knitting and pretended not to have noticed Cucullin at all.
“A fine morning!” roared Cucullin. “And might this be where Fin M’Coul lives?”
Oonagh looked up. “Indeed it is, my good man,” said she. “Won’t you be sitting?”
“Thank you kindly,” said Cucullin. “Is Fin at home?”