Finn gave his permission and went back to his meal. The giant opened the gate of the inclosure, took off the halter and let the animal loose. That done, he came over to the table and proceeded to eat everything within reach.
The decrepit old horse changed entirely when its master left it. No longer was it mild and sleepy. It kicked its heels high in the air, let out a snort and proceeded to bite and kick every animal it could reach. These other horses could make no stand against the newcomer, nor could they seem to get away from it. At last the giant’s horse had injured all the animals except the one belonging to Conan. It was viciously pursuing this one.
“Look here,” roared Conan. “Go tie up that ugly brute before it injures my horse.”
The giant kept on eating. “There’s the halter,” he said between bites. “If you do not like the way he acts, go tie him yourself.”
Conan needed no second invitation. He ran into the pasture and put the halter on the great beast. As soon as it was caught, the animal resumed its dejected pose. Conan pulled and pulled with all his might, but he exerted himself without result. The horse would not move. The other Fenians gathered around and offered much advice and many taunts.
“Shame on you, Conan,” cried one. “A Fenian and unable to lead one little horse!”
“Take him by the tail,” shouted another. “Perhaps it travels the other way.”
“Better practice on a sheep until you grow up,” came from a third.
Conan lost his temper. He began abusing the men who were joking him, saying all the cutting things he could think of. His anger extended to the horse. He began beating it with a heavy club. Still the animal stood looking dejectedly at the ground and giving no sign that it felt the blows.
Fergus True Lips, the poet of the Fenians, now gave some advice.