“I do not know who my father was,” said the stranger. “I am of one place as well as another. Men call me the Hard Gilla; and it is a good name: for no matter how well people treat me I forget all they do. I have heard, though, that you give most wages, and best treatment of any man.”
“I will give you good wages,” said Fin, “and fair treatment; but how much do you want of me?”
“I want whatever I ask.”
“I will give you that and more, if I promise,” said Fin.
“I am your man,” said the Gilla. “Now that we have agreed, I may let my horse out to graze, I suppose?”
“You may,” answered Fin.
The Gilla untied the chain bridle from his horse, and struck him with the chain. The beast went to the other horses; but if he did, he fell to eating the mane, legs, ears, and tail of each one of them, and ate all till he came to a steed grazing apart, and this steed belonged to Conan Maol. Conan ran, caught the ugly old horse by the skull, and pulled him up to his owner.
“Mind your wicked old cripple!” cried Conan, in anger.
“If any man does not like how my horse feeds, he may herd the good steed himself.”