Then Blackfoot the Elk of Ben Gulban turned his wide-horned head away and looked at the full old moon that was coming up in the sky. And the King of Ireland’s Son took up the wheel and went to look for a shelter. He found a sheep-cote on the side of the mountain and lay down and slept between sheep. V When the sun rose he lifted up the wheel and set it going before him. He was going and ever going down long hillsides and across spreading plains till he came to where old trees and tree-stumps were standing hardly close enough together to keep each other company. The wheel went through this ancient wood and stopped before a fallen oak-tree. And sitting on a branch of that oak, with a gray head bent and featherless wings gathered up to her neck was a crow. “I come from Laheen the Eagle,” said the King of Ireland’s Son. “What did you say?” said the Crow, opening one eye. “I come from Laheen the Eagle,” said the King of Ireland’s Son again. “Oh, from Laheen,” said the Crow and dosed her eye again. “And I came to ask for knowledge of the Unique Tale,” said the King of Ireland’s Son. “Laheen,” said the Crow, “I remember Laheen the Eagle.” Keeping her eyes shut, she laughed and laughed until she was utterly hoarse. “I remember Laheen the Eagle,” she said again. “Laheen never found out what I did to her once. I stole the Crystal Egg out of her nest. Well, and how is Laheen the Eagle?” she said sharply, opening one eye. “Laheen is well,” said the King of Ireland’s Son. “She sent me to ask if you had knowledge of the Unique Tale.” “I am older than Laheen,” said the Crow. “I remember Paralon’s People. The Salmon of Assaroe always said he was before Paralon’s People. But never mind! Laheen can’t say that. If I could only get the feathers to stay on my wings I’d pay Laheen a visit some day. How are Laheen and her bird-flocks?” “O Crow of Achill,” said the King of Ireland’s Son, “I was sent to ask if you had knowledge of the Unique Tale.” “The Unique Tale! No, I never heard of it,” said the Crow. She gathered her wings up to her neck again and bent her gray head. “Think, O Crow of Achill,” said the King of Ireland’s Son. “I will bring you the warmest wool for your nest.” “I never heard of the Unique Tale,” said the Crow. “Tell Laheen I was asking for her.” Nothing would rouse the Crow of Achill again. The King of Ireland’s Son set the wheel rolling and followed it. Then he was going and ever going with the clear day before him and the dark night coming behind him. He came to a wide field where there were field-fares or ground larks in companies. He crossed it. He came to a plain of tall daisies where there were thousands of butterflies. He crossed it. He came to a field of buttercups where blue pigeons were feeding. He crossed it. He came to a field of flax in blue blossom. He crossed it and came to a smoke-blackened stone house deep sunk in the ground. The wheel stopped rolling before it and he went into the house.