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On the last day of that year Diarmuid was in his sleep when he heard the voices of hounds go through his dreams. He started up, but lay down again in the sweet comfort of Grainne's arms. Three times this happened. Then he rose in the weak dawn light and went out after the baying of the dogs, with his small sword at his side, and his little spear in one hand, and the lead of his hound Mac an Chuill in the other.

Diarmuid went to the top of Ben Bulbin and found Finn there alone. Finn told him that some men of the Fianna had set out at midnight on the scent of a boar. But the trail was lost and it was pointless to continue.

'Many a time,' said Finn, 'we have hunted that boar to no end except danger and damage to us. This very night he has killed thirty of our men. And now let us leave with speed, for I hear him coming up the mountain.'

'I will not leave this hill,' said Diarmuid, 'for fear of a wild pig.'

'You had best do it, Diarmuid, for this is the earless and tailless boar that you are under a geasa not to hunt. Angus Og in your young days put you under this bond, for he knew the boar was likely to be the death of you.'

'I know nothing,' replied Diarmuid, 'of the incantations and prophecies of my childhood. But here I stay. Leave me your hound Bran to help my Man an Chuill, and I will take my chances.'

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