Keth came upon Dubthach as the renowned shanachy was fastin’ on a false poet who owed him a debt for makin’ up some rhymes which the false poet recited about the country as his own divine afflatus. This fakir was a failure at bog-drainin’ named Fergus, an’ havin’ neglected to pay for the rhymes he couldn’t make up for himself he was shut up in his house while Dubthach sat before his door, neither of thim eatin’ nor drinkin’, as the custom was, till the matter was settled. Dubthach was so pale an’ lean from four days an’ nights of fastin’ that his tunic was all in wrinkles about his shoulders. Fergus’ plight was worse yet, for as he sat by his open window with his head in his hand he seemed only half alive. Still ivery time Dubthach braced up an’ called on him to pay the debt he came back with a sharp answer. [Illustration] “’Tis four geese an’ a sheep ye owe me,” said Dubthach, as Keth came up. “Ye’re a liar. ’Tis three geese an’ a pig,” said Fergus. “The law is with me, I’ll starve the heart out of ye,” said Dubthach. “Yer rhymes were no good, they stuck in me throat,” said Fergus. “But I’ll pay ye the three geese an’ the pig—or see yer bones litterin’ me doorstep.” Right here Keth stepped in, havin’ great wisdom in such matters. After hearin’ both sides he recited to ’em the Brehon law, an’ then he said: “The both of ye are in the wrong. Fergus, what ye owe to Dubthach is not four geese an’ a sheep, but four geese an’ a pig.” Hearin’ this wise judgmint, Dubthach an’ Fergus scowled fiercely at each other; but ’twas plain their jaws were achin’ to come together on a flitch o’ bacon, an’ so Dubthach spoke up: “Niver shall it be told of me,” he said, “that I refused to mate an inemy half way. Fergus, ye omadhune, open the door of your hovel an’ let out the four geese an’ the pig.” [Illustration: _Keth recites the Brehon Law to Dubthach Mac na Lugair and his debtor_] Which the same Fergus did, with a string tied to the leg of each of ’em for Dubthach to drive ’em home with. An’ Dubthach, with the pig an’ the four geese safe in hand, turned an’ howled back at Fergus: “As I’m lavin’ your dirty doorstep, ye double-faced falsifier, wan word of advice: Lave off graftin’ on your betters an’ get back to your bog-drainin’.” To Keth Mac Maragh who walked beside him he said: “Niver mintion it to Fergus, but ye’ve done me a service this day. Faith, I was that far gone with the fast I could feel me backbone through me stomach! An’ now me good frind tell me how I can square the account between the two of us. Will ye take two geese, or the pig?” [Illustration] Now, bein’ well on into the West country, with maybe the great god Wurra-Wurra just around the turn of the nixt peat bog, Keth felt it was a time to exercise discretion, for the lad was as wise an’ cunning as he was strong an’ mighty at heavin’ the handstone. So he reflected and made this answer to Dubthach: