'Certainly not!' said Cathbad.
'Brat!' said Conachoor in anger, 'then thou art a liar!'
'Be not angry, O King,' said Cohoolin, 'it was Cathbad who put this into my head, though he did not mean to do so. I was playing just now when I overheard him teaching magic, and one of his pupils asked what to-day was good for, and Cathbad answered that the lad who took arms this day would make a name above all others in Ireland, but that his life would be short. Then I came to you.'
'Yes, yes!' said Cathbad, 'it is true. Thou hast taken arms, Cohoolin, and thou shalt be famous above all men, and thou shalt run thy course very swiftly.'
'I care little,' said Cohoolin, 'if I run it in one day if the memory of it shall last.'
'Well,' said Cathbad, 'mount thy chariot, Cohoolin, the course begins.'
A chariot was brought for Cohoolin, and he drove it so as to try it. He started furiously, with whip-strokes like flints cracking in a fire. He made the chariot curve like a snake and twist suddenly like a snipe. He stopped dead, and overthrew the chariot in fragments. Many other chariots were brought, and either at the start, or in mid-career, or at the mad stopping, he destroyed them all. Turning to Conachoor he laughed, saying:
'O Conachoor, these chariots were not meant for me.'
'Jubar, son of Riangabar!' cried Conachoor, and his charioteer answered:
'I am here!'
'Yoke my chariot for Cohoolin!'
Then Cohoolin mounted the king's chariot and took the reins from the charioteer and drove in all manner of courses. No two were the same, and all were as
