"No other," answered Goron.
"But what land will he be making?" pursued the chief, knitting his brows in perplexity as he watched the craft drifting inland. "There is no foothold for him in all Muinteravoira."
"'Tis not Muinteravoira, or any land of the Dalys or Sullivans, he will be touching. His Lordship will be coming to you. The priest gave me that word."
The Lord of Dunbeekin bent a stern, searching gaze upon his man.
"I will not think you have a trap laid for me, Goron shuileach," he said, gravely.
"You will not think it, O'Mahony," responded the other, with proud candour. "It would put too much shame upon you, and upon me also, to think that evil thought."
"I will ask your forgiveness," said Turlogh, hastily. "There is no sleep for me, here in the rocks, and I am very tired. Come with me now, to the place where my people are gathered."
The pale sunlight had lost itself before this in the veil of misty haze drawn over the sky above the line of the distant western peaks. The mountain-side lay in the shadowless, tranquil approaches of twilight; silent for a long time, save that from point to point, along its vast terraced expanse of cliffs and moorland, there rose at intervals the trumpeting of an ox-horn—flat, yet sonorous. Sounds of rustling through the heather and scrub-fume began to make themselves heard. Then came louder and more confident noises, the shouting of men above the rest.
The first stars, twinkling forth through the smoky residue of sunset, saw a long cavalcade descending by a tortuous broken path the rough face of Gabriel. They came on down through the growing darkness—bareheaded men, wild-faced and savage of attire, leading horses laden with household goods; boys and youths,
