Dyeermud sat on a ditch to rest, and soon a wayfarer halted in front of him. “Where are these people all hastening?” asked Dyeermud.
“From what country or place are you,” asked the man, “not to know whither all these people are going?”
“Surely I am not of this place or your country,” said Dyeermud; “and I care not to know whither you or these people are going, since you cannot give a civil answer to an honest question.”
“Be patient, good man,” said the wayfarer “From what country or place are you?”
“From Erin,” said Dyeermud.
“I suppose, then, you have known Fin MacCool, or have heard of him?”
“I have, indeed,” said Dyeermud.
“If you take my advice,” said the wayfaring man, “you’ll go out on the same road by which you came in, or else not acknowledge Fin MacCool of Erin, for that man will be hanged this day before the king’s castle; the gallows is ready and built for him. When the life is gone out of him, his head will be struck off, and left as a plaything to please the king’s mind forever. The body is to be dragged between four wild horses; and the same will be done to you, if you acknowledge Fin MacCool of Erin.”
“I thank you for your answer,” said Dyeermud; “and only because I don’t like to lay a weighty hand on you, you would never again give advice like that to a man of the Fenians of Erin. But show me the way to the castle.”