Yet did he pray Finn to leave with him his hound
Bran, that it might help his own dog were he in need.
But Finn would not leave Bran to be torn by the wild boar that could now
be seen coming towards them.
So Dermat stood alone on the summit of the hill, and he knew well it was
that he might meet his death that Finn's men did hunt the boar this day.
Yet would he not leave the hill, for if it were his fate to meet death,
nought could save him from his doom.
Then as the boar came rushing up the face of the hill, Dermat let loose
his good hound, but it, seeing the fearful monster, fled before him.
And now Dermat knew that he would have need of his red javelin, and he
sorrowed that he had given no heed to the counsel of Grania. Yet seizing
his yellow javelin he cast it with careful aim and it struck the boar in
its forehead. But it fell harmless to the ground, doing the monster no
hurt.
Then Dermat drew his sword from its sheath, and with a mighty blow did he
strike at the boar's neck. But the sword broke in his hand, and the boar
felt not so much as a prick.
Now was Dermat without any weapon save the hilt of his sword, and the boar
made a deadly onslaught, thrusting his tusk into the hero's side. But with
the strength that was left him Dermat flung the hilt of the sword at the
brute's head, and it pierced his skull and entered his brain, whereupon
the boar fell dead.
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