And he throws him into the sea.
The good priest was returning home, when he sees the man with the sheep, and says to him,
“Where did you get that flock from?”
“From the bottom of the sea. There are plenty there. Don’t you see that white head, how it lifts itself above the sea?”
“Yes; and I, too, must have a flock like that.”
“Come close to the edge, then.”
And our huntsman pushes him into the sea.
Gagna-haurra Hirigaray.
We have other tales about priests, all in the same spirit as this. The Basques are a deeply religious people, and are generally on the best terms with the clergy; but they will not be dominated by them. Any attempt at undue interference in their national games or customs is sure to be resented; of this we have known several instances—some rather amusing ones. G. H., the narrator of the above tale, did not know a word of French.
Some of Campbell’s stories begin a little like these, e.g., Vol. I., p. 95, Macdonald’s tale—“There was a king and a knight, as there was and will be, and as grows the fir tree, some of it crooked and some of it straight, and he was King of Eirinn.” The ending, “If they had lived well, they would have died well too,” recals a Latin inscription still occasionally to be seen on Basque houses:—