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better,” said the Lad of the Gad. “And he struck the fist on your father.”
    The Prince of Cairns put off his arms and armour, and the Lad of the Gad put them on.
    He went into his belts of thongs
    And his thongs of warrior,
    He went with leaping strides,
    Driving spray from puddle,
    Spark from pebble,
    His hero hard slasher in his hand,
    A sharp sure knife against his waist,
    Springing he sprung
    From the point of his spear
    To the points of his toes
    Over the fire of the island.
    It was the very finest island he saw then, from the start of the world to the end of time, and he saw a yellow bare hill in the middle of it.
    He raised himself up against the hill.
    There was a treasure of a woman sitting on thehill, and a big youth with his head on her knee, asleep.
    â€œIf I had a right to you,” said the woman, “you should not leave the island.”
    â€œWhat is the waking for that youth?” said the Lad of the Gad to her.
    â€œIt is to cut the top joint off his little finger,” said the woman.
    The Lad of the Gad took the sharp sure knife that was against his waist and cut the little finger off the sleeping youth at the root. That made the youth neither shrink nor stir.
    â€œTell me what is waking for the youth,” said the Lad of the Gad.
    â€œWaking for him,” said the woman, “is a thing that you cannot do; you, nor any one warrior in the great world but the Warrior of the Red Shield. And of him it was foretold that he should come to this island and strike the crag of stone here on this youth in the rock of his chest; and he is asleep until then.”
    The Lad of the Gad heard this, and a fist upon manhood, a fist upon strengthening, a fist upon power went into him. He raised the crag of stone in his two hands, and he struck it on the youth in the rock of his chest.
    And the one who was asleep gave a slow stare of his two eyes, and looked at him.
    â€œHave you come,” said the one who was asleep, “have you come, Warrior of the Red Shield? Today and from now you shall own that name. Butyou will not stand long to me.”
    â€œTwo thirds of the fear be upon yourself,” said the Warrior of the Red Shield, “and a little third on me.
    They went into each other’s grasps, and they fought till the mouth of dusk and lateness. The Warrior of the Red Shield thought then that he was far from his friends and close to his foe, and he gave him a light lift and threw him against the earth: the thumb of his foot gave a warning to the root of his ear, and he swept the head off him.
    â€œThough it is I who have done this, it was not I who promised it,” said the Lad of the Gad, the Warrior of the Red Shield.
    He took the hand from the shoulder, and he took the heart from the chest, and he took the head from the neck. He put his hand in the dead one’s pouch, and there were three teeth of an old horse in it. He carried them with him. And he went to a tuft of a wood, and he gathered a withy, and he tied on it the hand and the heart and the head.
    â€œWould you stay here, or come with me?” he said to the woman.
    â€œI would rather go with you yourself,” said the woman, “than with all the men of earth’s mould together.”
    The Warrior of the Red Shield lifted her onto the shower top of his shoulder on the burden part of his back, and he went to the fire and gave a dark spring across.
    The Prince of Cairns and the Prince of Blades were waiting, rage and fury in their eyes.
    â€œWhat great warrior was that,” they said, “chasing you, and you running away, till he saw such heroes as us?”
    â€œThere’s for you,” said the Warrior of the Red Shield, “a treasure of a woman, and the three teeth of your father, and the head, hand and heart of the one that struck the fist on him. Make a little stay for me, and I shall go back, and I shall not leave the tatter of a tale in the island.”
    He went away back,