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 The dark hours of the night passed on, and Fionn shivered as the chill autumnal dews dropped on his weak and helpless limbs. He thought how the poor and the old must suffer, without warmth or comfort, and welcomed the dawn and sunrise more eagerly than he ever had before; then on his ears fell the sound of men's voices shouting and calling, and the barking of many dogs. Nearer and nearer the sound came; a minute or two later his son Oisin, and Oscur the son of Oisin, with Caeilté and Conan mac Morna and a great band of the Fianna Eireann, came over the hill-top to him.

"Old man," said Caeilté, "has the warrior that I questioned you about yesterday passed by here since?"

"That is my father's cloak you are wrapped in," cried Oisin hastily, before the old man could speak. "How did you get it? And tell us the truth about it, or death will soon be your portion."

"Alas!" exclaimed Fionn, "that my own son should not know me."

They all stared at the old man in amaze-