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 food and shelter," Fionn replied. "But do not be uneasy, Caeilté; Flann and Conal will soon build a hut, and wild fowl is plentiful among the reeds in the pool down there. In the meantime we will rest ourselves on this pleasant hillside."

He sat down on the grass, and Oscur and Caeilté willingly lay down a little distance away. They were silent, half listening to the songs the blackbirds and thrushes sang, half dreaming of the Ever-Living Ones who dwell in a beautiful home in the heart of the hills. Fionn remembered he too was akin to them, for his mother belonged to the ancient Tuatha de Danann race. Then suddenly a most sweet and perfect music sounded through the air, and almost lulled them to sleep. But Fionn roused himself, and looked round.

"Do you hear that, Caeilté? " said Fionn. "Seek the minstrel and bring him to me, for certainly we have none who can play the harp like that."

Caeilté rose to his feet, and gazed down the hill and up the hill.

"The music must be made by invisible