All the time the twenty-four yellow cats lay on the branches of the Rowan Tree or walked about the court-yard or lapped up great crocks of milk. Morag’s Little Red Hen went hopping round the courtyard. She seemed to be sleepy or to be always considering something. If one of the twenty-four yellow cats looked at her the Little Red Hen would waken up, murmur something, and hop away.
One day the cattle came home without Crom Duv. “He has gone on one of his journeys,” said Morag, “and will not be back for a night and a day.”
“Then it is time for me to make my escape,” said Flann.
“How can you make your escape, my dear, my dear?” said Morag. “If you go by the front the Bull of the Mound will toss you in the air and then trample you into the ground.”
“But I have strength and cunning and activity enough to climb the wall at the back.”
“But if you climb the wall at the back,” said Morag, “you will only come to the Moat of Poisoned Water.” “The Moat of Poisoned Water?” “The Moat of Poisoned Water,” said Morag. “The water poisons the skin of any creature that tries to swim across the Moat.”
Flann was downcast when he heard of the Moat of Poisoned Water. But his mind was fixed on climbing the wall. “I may find some way of crossing the poisoned water,” he said, “so bake my cake and give me provision for my journey.”
Morag baked a cake and put it on the griddle. And when it was baked she wrapped it in a napkin and gave it to him. “Take my blessing with it,” said she, “and if you escape, may you meet someone who will be a better help to you than I was. I must keep the twenty-four cats from watching you while you are climbing the wall.”
“And how will you do that?” said Flann.
She showed him what she would do. With a piece of glass she made on the wall of the byre the shadows of flying birds. Birds never flew across the House of Crom Duv and the cats were greatly taken with the appearances that Morag made with the piece of glass. Six cats watched, and then another six came, and after them six more, and after them the six that watched in the Rowan Tree. And the twenty-four yellow cats sat round and watched with burning eyes the appearances of birds that Morag made on the byre-wall. Flann looked back and saw her seated on a stone, and he thought the Byre-Maid looked lonesome.