They went into the wood, Flann and Morag, and the Little Red Hen was
under Morag’s arm. They thought they would hide behind trees until they
heard the coming of the Pooka and his horse. But they were not far in
the wood when they heard Crom Duv coming towards his house. He came
towards them with the iron spike in his hand. Flann and Morag ran.
Then from tree to tree Crom Duv chased them, shouting and snorting and
smashing down branches with the iron spike in his hand. Morag and
Flann came to a stream, and as they ran along its bank they heard the
trampling and panting of a horse coming towards them. Up it came, a
great black horse with a sweeping mane. “Halt, Pooka,” said Flann in
a commanding voice. The black horse halted and the Pooka that was its
rider slipped down to its tail.
Flann held the snorting horse and Morag got on its back. Then Flann
sprang up between Morag and the horse’s head. Crom Duv was just beside
them. “Away, Pooka, away,” said Flann, and the horse started through the
wood like the wind of March.
And then Crom Duv blew on the horn that was across his breast and the
Bull of the Mound bellowed in answer. As they went by the mound the Bull
charged down and its horns tossed the tail of the Pooka’s horse. The
Bull turned and swept after them with his head down and hot breath
coming out of his nostrils. And when they were in the hollow he was on
the height, and when they were on the height he was in the hollow. And a
hollow or a height behind his Bull came Crom Duv himself.
Then the breath of the Bull became hot upon Morag and Flann and the
Pooka. “Oh, what shall we do now?” said Morag to the Pooka who was
hanging on to the horse’s tail, his little face all twisted up with
fear.
“Put your hand into my horse’s ear and fling behind what you will find
there,” said the Pooka, his teeth chattering. Flann put his hand into
the horse’s right ear and found a twig of ash. He flung it behind them.
Instantly a tangled wood sprang up. They heard the Bull driving through
the tangle of the wood and they heard Crom Duv shouting as he smashed
his way through the brakes and branches. But the Bull and the man got
through the wood and again they began to gain on the Pooka’s horse.
Again the breath of the Bull became hot upon them. “Oh, Pooka, what
shall we do now?” said Morag.
“Put your hand into my horse’s ear and fling behind what you will find
there,” said the Pooka, his teeth chattering with fear as he held on to
his horse’s tail. Flann put his hand into the horse’s left ear and he
found a bubble of water. He flung it behind them. Instantly it spread
out as a lake and as they rode on, the lake waters spread behind them.
Morag and Flann never knew whether the Giant and the Bull went into that
lake, or if they did, whether they ever came out of it. They crossed the
river that marked the bounds of Crom Duv’s domain and they were safe.
Flann pulled up the horse and jumped on to the ground. Morag sprang down
with the Little Red Hen. Then the Pooka swung forward and whispered into
his horse’s ear. Instantly it struck fire out of its hooves and sprang
down the side of a hill. From that day to this Morag nor Flann ever saw
sight of the Pooka and his big, black, snorting and foaming horse.
“Dost thou know where we are, my Little Red Hen?” said Morag when the
sun was in the sky again.
“There are things I know and things I don’t know,” said the Little Red
Hen, “but I know we are near the place we started from.”
“Which way do we go to come to that place, my Little Red Hen?” said
Morag. “The way of the sun,” said the Little Red Hen. So Morag and Flann
went the way of the sun and the Little Red Hen hopped beside them. Morag
had in a weasel-skin purse around her neck the two rowan berries that
Flann had given her.
They went towards the house of the Spae-Woman. And as they went Morag
told Flann of the life she had there when she and her foster-sisters
were growing up, and Flann told Morag of the things he did when he was
in the house of the Spae-Woman after she and her foster-sisters had left
it.
They climbed the heather-covered knowe on which was the Spae-Woman’s
house and the Little Red Hen went flitting and fluttering towards the
gate. The Spae-Woman’s old goat was standing in the yard, and its horns
went down and its beard touched its knees and it looked at the Little
Red Hen. Then the Little Red Hen flew up on its back. “We’re here again,
here again,” said the Little Red Hen.
And then the Spae-Woman came to the door and saw who the comers were.
She covered them with kisses and watered them with tears, and dried them
with cloths silken and with the hair of her head.