"You will tell me now, Ivor?" was all I said.
"Yes; I will be telling you now. And the reason why I never told you before was because it is not a wise or a good thing to tell ancient stories about the sea while still on the running wave. Macrae should not have done that thing. It may be we shall suffer for it when next we go out with the nets. We were to go to-night; but, no, not I, no, no, for sure, not for all the herring in the Sound."
"Is it an ancient sgeul, Ivor?"
"Ay. I am not for knowing the age of these things. It may be as old as the days of the Féinn, for all I know. It has come down to us. Alasdair MacAlasdair of Tiree, him that used to boast of having all the stories of Colum and Brigdhe, it was he told it to the mother of my mother, and she to me."
"What is it called?"
"Well, this and that; but there is no harm in saying it is called the Dark Nameless One."
"The Dark Nameless One!"
"It is this way. But will you ever have heard of the MacOdrums of Uist?"
"Ay; the Sliochd-nan-ròn."
"That is so. God knows. The Sliochd-nan-ron ... the progeny of the Seal.... Well, well, no man knows what moves in the shadow of life. And now I will be telling you that old ancient tale, as it was given to me by the mother of my mother."