well that this day would be the last of the fight, and for one or both of them the last day of life. He went down alone to the ford. Before Cohoolin appeared, he had put on his battle dress, his helmet of many jewels, his apron of brown leather, and over that a stone like a millstone, and over that again an apron of iron. Already he grasped his sharp spear in his right hand, his curved sword hung against his left thigh, and he had slung his huge bossy shield upon his back. On this day he was expecting Cohoolin to use against him the thirty-barbed harpoon which no man had yet escaped.
They were slow to begin the fight. At first they put forth their powers, not against each other, but to show off their many warlike and athletic feats of dazzling skill and unimagined strength. They seemed to forget one another in the pride of this display, except that once or twice an extraordinary sign of strength or cunning made the adversary pause from his part to give a look of curiosity—of admiration—even of dread. Once Cohoolin paused, and, after watching Ferdia, turned to his charioteer and told him that if he showed signs of yielding in the coming battle, he was to taunt and jeer at him to increase his rage. But, after one of these pauses, Ferdia had no heart left for the vain show. He began to fight in earnest.
This was, from the beginning, the worst battle. Their strength and their fury had grown together. Cohoolin had never been so furious or so strong but Ferdia was his equal. Then Cohoolin's charioteer began to taunt his master and to praise Ferdia. 'Art thou playing, Cohoolin?' he asked. 'Ferdia is playing with thee. He is like a hawk among small birds.' Then Cohoolin was contorted by one of the violent rages which had made him as famous as his beauty and prowess. He
