Remembering his mother’s advice about sharing the bread, Faolan threw one loaf to the hound. This seemed to appease him. He had not sailed much further, when the hound rose again. Faolan threw out the second loaf; and the beast disappeared for a while, but rose the third time, and drove back the vessel. Faolan threw the third loaf; and, after disappearing the third time, the hound rose the fourth time. Having nothing to give, Faolan seized a brazen ball which his mother had given him, and, hurling it at the hound with good aim, killed him on the spot. As soon as the hound fell, there rose up a splendid youth, who came on board, and, shaking Faolan’s hand, said,—
“I thank you; you delivered me from enchantment. I am your mother’s brother; and there was nothing to free me till I ate three loaves kneaded with your mother’s milk, and was then killed by you with that brazen ball. You are near Ventry Strand now; among the first men you meet will be your own father. You will know him by his dress; and when you meet him, kneel down and ask for his blessing. As I have nothing else to give, here is a ring to wear on your finger, and whenever you look at it you will feel neither cold, thirst, nor hunger.”
When they landed, the uncle went his own way and vanished. Faolan saw champions playing on the strand, throwing a great weighty sledge.
Knowing Fin from his mother’s description, he knelt down at his feet, and asked for his blessing.
“If you are a son of mine,” said Fin, “you are able to hurl this sledge.”
“He is too young,” said Dyeermud, “to throw such a weight; and it is a shame for you to ask him to throw it.”
The youth then, growing angry, caught the sledge, and hurled it seven paces beyond the best man of the Fenians.
Fin shook hands with the youth; and his heart grew big at having such a son. Dyeermud shook his hand also, and swore that as long as he lived he would be to him a true comrade.
When dinner-time came, Fin bade Faolan sit down at his right hand, where Conan Maol, son of Morna, sat usually. Fin gave this place to Conan to keep him in humor. Conan grew enraged now, and said, “It is great impudence for a stripling to sit in my place.”
“I know not who you are,” said Faolan, “but from what I hear you must be Conan Maol, who has never a good word for any man; and I would break your head on the wall, but I don’t wish to annoy people present.”