was anxious, tried to keep him back, but he went down early to the ford where he was to meet Cohoolin. 'The raven,' he said, 'is going to croak over that ford.' When they reached the water his charioteer spread out skins for him in the chariot and he slept again.
Cohoolin had gone easily to sleep and though he also wakened early he was not anxious, and he lay in bed until the sun was above the hills, lest it should be thought that anxiety had kept him from rest. As he started the demons and powers of the air muttered and whimpered and shrieked round about him and they made him very terrible to see. His chariot's thunder and the clashing of his arms awakened Ferdia beside the ford. The charioteer looked hard at the two horses of Cohoolin, the grey one with the long mane, and the black one with the tufted mane. It seemed to him that the chariot bore down upon them like a hawk from a cliff.
Ferdia looked up and saw the clods of earth scattered high by the two chariot horses. Through these clods, which were like birds in the air, he saw the grey horse and the black, the chariot pole of silver rising and falling, the yoke of gold, the purple hood and green fittings of the chariot. The rider was a man with thick black hair, as smooth as if a cow had licked it, and grey eyes gleaming under black brows. This, Ferdia knew at once, was Cohoolin, famous for his beauty, his wisdom, his skill in games and battle, and his too great daring. His purple tunic with white borders floated over his shoulders, clasped at his breast by a brooch of gold. His long white cloak had a border of flaming red. His gold-hilted sword lay across his knees: his right hand grasped a spear of ash wood. The shield on his back was purple surrounded by a circle of silver and chased with gold in the shapes of beasts. A dart lay ready
