Indade, the wizard, prancin’ down the hillside into the valley, frothin’ at the mouth an’ all his whiskers flyin’ in the mornin’ breeze, was only a lape or two from the mouth of the grotto. “Back!” he shrieked. “Back! or I’ll blast ye with the spell of Banba!” ’Twas nothing against Keth Mac Maragh that in his surprise he should stand back a few paces and raise his shield, for old Lochru in a rage was a sight to sind children into spasms. ’Twas a good thing, too, for the hated sight of Lochru brought back the grateful mimory of Patrick, an’ the strength to his arm, so that he faced the wizard boldly, saying: “Get thee gone thou Geis of demon’s spawn, ere I spill thy rotten brains to gain a new handstone wherewith to destroy thy demon masters! Irk me not, as I have better work at hand than to bandy words with such as thou!” [Illustration: _With his mighty handstone, defying Lochru, Keth shatters the idol Wurra-Wurra_] [Illustration] An’ raisin’ his handstone while the strength was fresh again in his arm, Keth Mac Maragh hurled it so swift and so straight that the idol’s face—barrin’ only wan fine ear—was shattered into a thousand pieces. An’ Lochru, seeing that Wurra-Wurra was no more—a headless god havin’ no further virtue in the Druid philosophy—Lochru ran shriekin’ up the valley, to remain until his death the craziest loonatic in Ireland. * * * * * “’Tis a fine job well done,” raymarked Keth to himsilf as he wint and raycovered his handstone in the grotto from among the fragmints that were wance the head of Wurra-Wurra. “An’ now for a bit of sup an’ drink, an’ a fine long slape.” [Illustration] [Illustration] But ’twas nayther food nor drink nor slape Keth Mac Maragh was to get that day. For he had returned on his way up Glanngalt no more than the distance of nine ridges whin he was stopped by a runner comin’ down the valley with the speed of the wind. The boy bein’ breathless, Keth was the first to spake: “If ’tis to the King of Connaught ye bear your message,” he said, “sure ye’re off your road.” [Illustration] [Illustration: _Finola runs to Keth and delivers an urgent message from Patrick_] “Keth Mac Maragh,” panted the runner—who was lithe an’ slender, with round cheeks an’ a white chin—“has the day come so soon whin ye forgit the face of your own Finola?” [Illustration] “What!” said Keth in astonishment, “will ye tell me that your haythin heresies have so strong a howld on ye that ye’ve lift the household an’ spiritual guidance of the good Patrick of Armagh?” “Nay,” said Finola. “’Tis for Patrick sure I’m runnin’, an’ the message is to yoursilf.” “So! ’Twas the likes of Finola that gave me away!” And Keth glowered darkly at the maid. “Tell me, Keth,” she said in anxious tones, “ye’ve not done it? Ye’ve not bashed the great idol, Wurra-Wurra?” [Illustration] Somethin’ towld Keth that ’twould be as well for him to dissimble. So he answered cunningly: