“I have enough of the sea; I’ll come in.”
He put down the blade of his oar, and sprang ashore. No sooner had he touched land than he was grappled by Miach Lay. As neither man knew the other, they were in hand grips all day. They were nearly equal in strength, but at last Miach Lay was getting the worst of it. He asked Manus for a truce.
“I will grant you that,” said Manus; “but you do not deserve it, for you began the battle.”
They sat apart then, and Miach Lay asked, “How long can you hold out?”
“It is getting stronger and braver I am,” replied Manus.
“Not so with me. I could not hold out five minutes longer,” said Miach Lay. “My bones were all falling asunder, and I thought the earth was trembling beneath me. Till this day I thought to myself, ‘There is no champion I cannot conquer.’ Now tell me your name and your country.”
“I am from Erin and a son of the King of Lochlinn,” said Manus.
“Oh,” said Miach Lay, “you are my brother.”
“Are you Miach Lay?” inquired Manus.