the house of a great smith called Culann, who lived not only by his art of working in metals, but also by the wealth which prophecy and divination brought in. When the king and his men had arrived, Culann asked them if their number was complete, and the king, forgetting the boy that was to follow, answered in the affirmative. Culann explained that he asked the question because when his gates were shut in the evening he used to let loose a terrible war-hound, which he had obtained from Spain to guard his chattels and flocks during the night. So it was done then; but presently the boy Setanta came along, amusing himself with his hurlbat and ball as was his wont.[1] He was hardly aware of the dog barking before it was at him; but he made short work of the brute, though not without rousing the Ultonians to horror at their oversight, for they had no doubt in their minds that the boy had been torn to pieces. The gates were thrown open, and the boy was found unharmed, with the dog lying dead at his feet. Like the rest, Culann welcomed him, for his mother's sake, as he said, but he could not help expressing his regret at the death of his hound; for he declared that his losing the guardian of his house and his chattels made his home a desolation. Little Setanta, who could not see why so much fuss should be made about the dog, bade the smith have no care, as he would himself guard all his property on the Plain of Murthemne till he had a grown-up dog of the same breed. This was the tract between Cuailgne or Cooley and the river Boyne, and he was subsequently identified with it; so that he is found called, for instance, the Rider of
- ↑ Bk. of the Dun, 60a—61a; Bk. of Leinster, 63a—64b.
