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 the floor reposed a more stately warrior than the others, with silver hair flowing over his shoulders; at his head was a silken banner, with a golden sun rising above the horizon, and on either side of him a hound rested.

The man looked at them; he thought they must be warriors who had died long ages ago, but the colour still remained in their cheeks, and the red in their lips, as though they only slept. He walked a few paces into the cave, and stumbled over a long, carved wooden instrument half-buried in the sand. He raised it, and standing it on one end, discovered it to be a trumpet or horn of great antiquity. Placing his lips to the mouth-piece he breathed into it, and a musical humming note filled the chamber. At the sound the hounds raised their heads and bayed, and a clash of swords and shields rose as the warriors sat upright, and from the lips of the silver-haired warrior in the centre came the words: "Is the time yet come?"

But the man turned and fled from the cave in fear. He knew then that these ancient warriors were Fionn and his heroes, who wait