Prisintly, as Keth Mac Maragh hove in sight, all tired and dusty from a hard day of travel, Lochru, in his guise of an old an’ decrepit shanachy, twanged the strings of his harp an’ began to sing of past glories whin he was royal shanachy at Tara with four an’ twinty pupils all sheddin’ lustre on his performance. But whin Keth came abrist of him on the road he lifted his voice in a sort of refrain, the substince of which caused Patrick’s strong man to prick up his ears an’ pinch himsilf to be sure he was indade awake. For this was the unexpicted purport of Lochru’s refrain: “Hail the dawn of Erin’s Golden Age, Redeemed from Druids’ evil signs and spells. Rejoice at ancient idols overthrown And demons banished to their flames below. Cromm Cruach’s head doth bow to Patrick’s power; Great Laeghaire takes the Gospel to his heart; No more shall idols lure the simple mind— E’en Wurra-Wurra’s fatal hour has struck. Hail Erin’s Golden Age, Hail Patrick and the Blissed Word!” [Illustration] An’ no sooner had the schamin’ Lochru in his disguise exprissed these fine Christian sintimints than Keth fell for him. Yis, Keth Mac Maragh fell for him complately—swallowin’ bait, hook, line an’ all. Old Lochru, pretindin’ not to observe the prisince of the lad, was about to reel off a few more yards of his song, but Keth fell on his neck, sayin’: “Hiven’s blessin’s rist on ye, old man; for ’tis indade true, as ye’ve said, that Wurra-Wurra’s fatal hour has struck. Tell me where to look for the owld idol that I may bash his face with me handstone.” “Do me eyes desayve me?” said the false shanachy, returnin’ Keth’s embrace. “No; sure ’tis the good Patrick’s strong man that stands before me—Keth Mac Maragh, who, wan day, will be a bishop.” “’Tis the same,” said Keth, swellin’ with pride at the wizard’s prophecy—for that was Keth’s great saycrit ambition, to become a bishop. An’ now Lochru had him hard an’ fast. No suspicion of the false shanachy could have been beaten into his head with an axe. “But the time passes,” said Keth; “show me the road to Wurra-Wurra, that I may speedily earn me bishop’s staff.” Lochru was playin’ with the lad as a cat plays with a mouse. “Have ye no fear of the druid wizards?” he said. “Can ye circumvint the spells of Lochru? Are ye after thinkin’ that Lucat-Moel an’ Caplait will let ye come at Wurra-Wurra to do the idol harm?” [Illustration] “Divil take the wizards an’ all their spells,” answered Keth. “Sure, ’tis Keth Mac Maragh, champion strong man an’ as good a scholar as the bist of thim, that has all their spells at his finger-ends. So set me on the road to Wurra-Wurra.” “Be it so,” said Lochru. “I persayve that ye’re already a bishop, savin’ the ordination. ’Tis well. Give heed to me words, for ’tis growin’ dark an’ ye must travil the night through to escape the sure destruction which Lochru has prepared for ye. [Illustration]