Hero-Tales of Ireland

by Unknown

Once there was an orphan boy who had no friends; a poor, childless widow took the little fellow, and reared him. When the boy had grown up somewhat, he was very fond of bows and arrows, became a wonderful shot. As is usual with orphans, he was wiser than others, and was able to hunt when much smaller than his comrades.

He began to kill birds for his foster-mother; gradually he went farther from home, and found more game. The widow had plenty in her house now, and something to give her friends. The boy and the woman lived on in this fashion a whole year. He was good, thoughtful, serious, a wise boy, and brought game every day. The widow was happy with her foster-son.

At last he came late one evening, later than ever before, and hadn’t half so much game.

“Why so late, my son; and why have you so little game?” asked the widow.

“Oh, my mother, game is getting scarce around here; I had to go far to find any, and then it was too late to kill more.”

The next day he was late again, a little later than the day before, and had no more game; he gave the same excuse. This conduct continued a week; the woman grew suspicious, and sent out a boy to follow her foster-son, and see what he was doing.

Now what had happened to the boy? He had gone far into the forest on the day when he was belated, farther than ever before. In a thick and dense place he found a round, grassy opening; in the middle of this space was a large rock, shaped like a millstone, and lying on one side, the upper part was flat and level. He placed his birds on the rock, sprang up, and sat on it to rest; the time was just after midday. While he was sitting there, he heard a voice in the stone, which asked: “Do you want me to tell a story?” He was astonished, said nothing. Again the voice spoke, and he answered: “Yes, tell me a story.”

The voice began, and told him a wonderful story, such as he had never heard before. He was delighted; never had he known such pleasure. About the middle of the afternoon, the story was finished; and the voice said: “Now, you must give me your birds for the story; leave them where you put them.” He went away toward home, shot what birds he could find, but did not kill many.

He came the next day, with birds, and heard a second story; and so it went on till the eighth day, when the boy sent by the foster-mother followed secretly. That boy heard the story too, discovered himself, and promised not to tell. Two days later the widow sent a second boy to watch those two, and three days after that a third one. The boys were true to the orphan, however, and would not tell; the magic of the stories overcame them.

At last the woman went to the chief with her trouble; he sent a man to watch the boys. This man joined the boys, and would not tell. The chief then sent his most trusty friend, whom nothing could turn aside from his errand. He came on the boys and the man, while they were listening to a story, and threatened them, was very angry. The voice stopped then, and said: “I will tell no more to-day; but, you boys and you men, listen to me, take a message to the chief and the people,—tell them to come here to-morrow, to come all of them, for I have a great word to say to every person.”