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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.
They finished lapping their milk and Morag showed them the red ribbon satchel. They let her put it round each of their necks and then they sprang off the table, and marched off more scornful and overbearing than before.
He gave a whistle to let Morag know he was over. Then he went through a little wood and came to the Moat of Poisoned Water. Very ugly the dead water looked. Ugly stakes stuck up from the mud to pierce any creature that tried to leap across. And here and there on the water were patches of green poison as big as cabbage leaves. Flann drew back from the Moat.
I am assisting a friend in a collection of Scottish songs, set to their proper tunes; every air worth preserving is to be included; among others I have given "Morag," and some few Highland airs which pleased me most, a dress which will be more generally known, though far, far inferior in real merit.
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.
Then he thought he would eat some of the cake that Morag had baked for him. He sat down and broke it. Then as he ate it the thought of Morag came into his mind. He thought he was looking at her putting the cake on the griddle. He went a little way along the river and then he began to feel lonesome. He turned back, "I'll go to Crom Duv's House," said he, "and show Morag the way to escape.
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