ment, and Fionn then began to relate the story of his adventures to the Fians. When he had ended they cried three loud cries of woe, and at the sound the fox hurried back to his earth, the badger to his hole, and the affrighted birds flew to their nests, and to this day the lake is called the Lake of Sorrow.
Fat, bald Conan mac Morna, when he saw Fionn lying there helpless, thought that now he would take vengeance on Fionn for all the gibes and sneers the Fians had treated him to. So stepping up to Fionn he began to abuse him.
"All the time I have been with the Fianna you never praised me or my brave deeds," he said, "and much it pleases me to see you lying there, for now I can cut off your head. The only grief I have is that all your Fians are not in the same state you are; if they were, my sword should run red in their blood."
In great indignation Oscur turned on Conan.
"Long have I known that there is neither sense nor shame in that bald head of yours," he said; "but not till now did I believe that
