Then Fatha cried out, "Fly, Dermat, fly! Save our dear companion! Save the king's son from death."
And Dermat, pausing for a moment, said, as if communing with himself—
"This is surely an evil plight: for if I run to the other side, the foreigner, being the more enraged for seeing me, will strike with greater fury, and I may not overtake the prince alive; and if I cast my spear, I may strike the wrong man!"
But Fatha, overhearing him, said, "Fear not, Dermat, for you never yet threw an erring cast of a spear!"
Then Dermat, putting his finger in the silken loop of his spear, threw a deadly cast with unerring aim, and struck Midac, so that the iron spear-head went right through his body, and the length of a warrior's hand beyond.
"Woe to the man," exclaimed Midac—"woe to him whom that spear reaches: for it is the spear of Dermat O'Dyna!"
And now his wrath increased, and he struck at Ficna more fiercely than before.
Dermat shouted to him to hold his hand and not slay the king's son; and as he spoke he rushed down the slope and across the ford, to save the young hero. But Midac, still pressing on with unabated strength and fury, replied—
"Had you wished to save the prince's life, you should have spared mine: now that I have been wounded to death by your spear, Finn shall never see his son alive!"