“Try him a third time.” He threw him still higher this time. Conal put out three greater waves, but waked not.
While the High King was throwing up Conal, the princess was writing a letter telling all,—that she knew not whither she was going, that she had bound the High King of the World not to make her his wife for a day and a year, “and,” said she, “I’m sure that you will find me in that time.”
The king took her in his arms, and away he went walking in the sea, throwing fish into his basket as he travelled through the water.
Conal slept a hero’s sleep of seven days and nights, and woke four days after his bride had been stolen. He rubbed his eyes, and, glancing toward the mountain side, saw neither steed nor wife, and said, “No wonder that I cannot see wife nor horse when I’m so sleepy; what am I to do?”
Not far away were some small boys, and they herding cows. The boys began to make sport of Conal for sleeping seven days and nights. “I do not blame you for laughing,” said Conal (ever since, when there is a great sleeper, people say that he sleeps like Conal on the side of Beann Edain), “but have you tidings of my wife and my steed; where are they, or has any man taken them?”
A boy older and wiser than the others said, “Your horse is on the mountain side feeding; and every day he came hither and sniffed you, and you sleeping, and then went away grazing for himself. Four days ago the greatest giant ever seen by the eye of man walked in through the ocean; he tossed you three times in the air. Every time we thought you’d be broken to dust; and the lady you had, wrote something and put it under your belt.”
Conal read the letter, and knew that, in spite of her, the Yellow King’s daughter had been carried away. He then preferred battle to peace, and asked the boys was there a ship that could take him to sea.
“There is no right ship in the place, but there is an old vessel wrecked in a cove there beyond,” said the oldest boy.
The boys went with Conal, and showed him the vessel.