“Who is this brave youthful champion with you?” asked Elin Gow.
“This is my son, and but for him I’d be forever where the three robbers put me. I was eighteen years where they left me; but for that, the cow would have been with you long ago. What were you doing all this time?” asked Cian of Elin Gow.
“Making swords and weapons, but I could not have lived without the support of your father.”
“He promised me that,” said Cian, “before I left Erin. I knew that he would help you.”
“Oh, he did!” said Elin Gow.
The father and son left good health with Elin Gow, and never stopped nor stayed till they reached the castle of Cian’s father. The old king had thought that Cian was dead, as he had received no account of him for so many years. Great was his joy and gladness, and great was the feast that he made.
Cian remained for a month, and then went to the house of the robbers, took out all its treasures, locked up the place in the way that no man could open it; then he gave one-half his wealth to his father. He took the rest to Spain with his son, and lived there.
Elin Gow had grown old, and he was in dread that he had not the strength to follow Glas Gainach, and sent a message to Caol na Crua, the fleetest champion in Kerry. Caol came. Elin Gow agreed to pay him his price for minding the cow, and was glad to get him. He told Caol carefully how to herd the cow. She travelled as before, and was always at home before nightfall.
Glas Gainach had milk for all; and when any one came to milk her she would stop, and there never was a vessel that she did not fill. One woman heard this; and once when Glas Gainach was near a river, the woman brought a sieve and began to milk. She milked a long time. At last the cow saw the river white with milk; then she raised her leg, gave the woman a kick on the forehead, and killed her.