shower of rain I came down," and he continued his journey.
The Carle hurriedly retraced his steps along the road, and at length found his coat-tails—one here and one there, as Cael had said. Then sitting down on a fallen tree he took his coat off, and pulling out a needle and thread stitched the tails neatly on in their proper places again. "Now I'll make another start," he said, putting his coat on, and quicker than the wind blows in March, when gales sweep in from the sea and over high mountain-peaks, he flashed down the road.
In a little while he overtook Cael for the second time, and said to him:
"Is it only this far you have reached? I tell you again, Cael, if you desire to win this race and carry off treasure from Ireland and the Fians, your gait of going will have to be considerably better than it has hitherto been, for, whatever happens, I shall turn back no more."
With that the Carle commenced running again as though some demon possessed him, and never slackened speed until he came to a
