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 and wail and scream, and all the wild animals of the woods and hills hid where the sound could not reach them. The horses broke loose and ran away in terror—all but Black Flame, who, knowing that his master was in peril, beat on the heavily-barred door with his hoofs, splintering it into fragments, and screaming with rage rushed over the threshold to stand by Fionn's side. Fear touched even the heroes' hearts, but they called on their gods to strengthen them, and held their spears and shields ready for the attack of the demons.

Now in the darkness of that enchanted house a fierce fight began. The grey old man wove spells to weaken the heroes' limbs, while the phantoms attacked them on every side with weapons cast in that dark underworld from whence they came. Sometimes the battle would go hardly with the Fians, and then they would call on Lugh Lam-Fada and the Mor Riga, who would strengthen their weary arms, and make their hearts glow with a new courage.

All through the night the battle raged, and the howls of the phantoms, when they were