“And how is the fourth gate guarded?”

“The fourth gate is guarded by the King of the Land of Mist himself.”

“And the fifth gate?”

“The fifth gate is guarded by the King of the Land of Mist himself.”

“And the sixth gate?”

“The sixth gate is guarded by the King of the Land of Mist.”

“And how is the seventh gate guarded?”

“The seventh gate is guarded by a Hag.”

“By a Hag only?” “By a Hag with poisoned nails. But I’m tired now, and I’ll talk no more to you. If I could strike a light now I’d smoke a pipe.”

Still they went on, and just at the screech of the day they came to the other shore of the River of the Broken Towers. The King of Ireland’s Son sprang from the shoulders of the Glashan and went into the mist.