Page:West Irish folk-tales and romances - William Larminie.djvu/103

 Rh of water.” He threw her; and she was three quarters of an hour in the hole, and he on top of her to keep her down. She got up as fresh as she was before he threw her down.

“I forgive you, Kaytuch.”

“I forgive not you.”

“Throw me down into a pot of brimstone.”

He threw her; and she was three quarters of an hour in it. She arose as fresh as she was at first. “I forgive you now.”

“I forgive not you. Defend yourself now.”

He drew his sword on her and struck her, but there was no good in the sword. She put her hands over and took hold of his skin, and put her nails into his blood, and took the full of her fist of his flesh with her. He was about to give up, when the bird spoke to him, to pull her head from its roots. He leaped high, and stood on her shoulders, and took hold of her head, and pulled it from its roots. She put druidism on him then. “Tell the Lamb of Luck that you have killed the Hag of Slaughter and Slaughter himself and the Hag of the Church.”

He went along the path, and he came to a great field, and in the field was nothing but a tree, and a big rock of stone, and the lamb. “Are you the Lamb of Luck?”

“I am.”

“I give you notice I have killed the Hag of