So the next morning Beswarragal brought him his breakfast, and, ‘Oh,’ she said, ‘why did you speak of me and wonder at me, for I must go away from you now to Righ-na-Sluagh, and you will never see me again.’ ‘How could I help wondering at you,’ he said, ‘and you so beautiful passing by? And I will go following after you for ever,’ he said. So she went away, and before she went she left five drops of honey on his five fingers. And he left the garden, and went following after and looking for her in every place. He walked on all through the day, and at the fall of night he came to a house that had but an old man in it. ‘God be with the company left me to-day,’ says he. ‘What company was that?’ says the King’s son. ‘Beswarragal and her twelve young girls,’ says he. ‘That is the one I am looking for,’ says the King’s son. ‘You never will get her,’ says the old man. ‘But I will do this for you,’ he says; ‘I will give you a ball when you leave this to-morrow, and you can go throwing it before you, and if you can come up with it as fast as it goes, you will come to my brother and he might help you.’ So after breakfast he took the ball, and he went throwing it and following it through the day till he came to a house where the old man’s brother was, and he went in. ‘God be with the company that left me to-day—that was Beswarragal and her twelve young ladies,’ says the old man. ‘She is the one I am looking for,’ says the King’s son. ‘You never will get up to her,’ says the old man; ‘but I will do this for you,’ he says. ‘There are twelve horses in the stable outside; and go into it,’ he says, ‘and take down the bridle you will see behind the stable door, and shake it, and whatever horse will come and put its head in it, let you get up on it, and it will bring you on the road she is gone.’ So after breakfast in the morning he went out into the stable and got the bridle and shook it, and a little _gioblacan_ of an Arabian horse came running and put his head into it. ‘The devil’s welcome to you,’ says he, ‘and all the good horses there are in the stable!’ ‘He’ll answer you well,’ says the old man, ‘and get up on him now. And are you a good jock?’ he says. ‘I am,’ says the King’s son, and he got up on it. ‘Let you leap that now,’ says the old man, and he turned the horse to where there was a big estate-wall at the side of the place. ‘It is humbugging you are,’ says the King’s son, ‘for there is no one would be able to leap that wall.’ But the little Arabian of a horse rose off the ground, and made the wild cat’s bow in the air, and he came down the other side of the wall, but the King’s son fell on the ground. But he rose up again and got up on the little horse. ‘We will make a start now,’ he says. ‘You will never get to the place where Beswarragal is,’ says the old man, ‘for there is a place between this and it, and the birds that fly high in the air fall down in ashes passing over that place, with all the