fear of him.  And let you leave Bran with me now,” he said, “along with Mac an Chuill.”  “I will not,” said Finn, “for it is often he met this boar before and could do nothing against him.”  He went away then and left Diarmuid alone on the top of the hill.  “I give my word,” said Diarmuid, “you made this hunt for my death, Finn; and if it is here I am to find my death,” he said, “I have no use in going aside from it now.”

The boar came up the face of the mountain then, and the Fianna after him.  Diarmuid loosed Mac an Chuill from his leash then, but that did not serve him, for he did not wait for the boar, but ran from him.  “It is a pity not to follow the advice of a good woman,” said Diarmuid, “for Grania bade me this morning to bring the Mor-alltach and the Gae Dearg with me.”  Then he put his finger into the silken string of the Gae Buidhe, and took a straight aim at the boar and hit him full in the face; but if he did, the spear did not so much as give him a scratch.  Diarmuid was discouraged by that, but he drew the Beag-alltach, and made a full stroke at the back of the boar, but neither did that make a wound on him, but it made two halves of the sword.  Then the boar made a brave charge at Diarmuid, that cut the sod from under his feet and brought him down; but Diarmuid caught hold of the boar on rising, and held on to him, having one of his legs on each side of him, and his face to his hinder parts.  And the boar made away headlong down the hill, but he could not rid himself of Diarmuid; and he went on after that to Ess Ruadh, and when he came to the red stream he gave three high leaps over it, backwards and forwards, but he could not put him from his back, and he went back by the same path till he went up the height of the mountain again.  And at last on the top of the mountain he freed himself, and Diarmuid fell on the ground.  And then the boar made a rush at him, and ripped him open, that his bowels came out about his feet.  But if he did, Diarmuid made a cast at him with the hilt of his sword that was in his hand yet, and dashed out his brains, so that he fell dead there and then.  And Rath na h-Amhrann, the Rath of the Sword Hilt, is the name of that place to this day.

It was not long till Finn and the Fianna of Ireland came to the place, and the pains of death were coming on Diarmuid at that time.  “It is well pleased I am to see you that way, Diarmuid,” said Finn; “and it is a pity all the women of Ireland not to be looking at you now, for your great beauty is turned to ugliness, and your comely shape to uncomeliness.”  “For all that, you have power to heal me, Finn,” said Diarmuid, “if you had a mind to do it.”  “What way could I heal you?” said Finn.  “Easy enough,” said Diarmuid, “for the time you were given the great gift of knowledge at the Boinn, you got this gift with it, that any one you would give a drink to out of the palms of your hands would be young and well again from any sickness after it.”  “You are not deserving