There dwelt a knight in Grianaig of the land of the West, who had three
daughters, and for goodness and beauty they had not their like in all
the isles. All the people loved them, and loud was the weeping when
one day, as the three maidens sat on the rocks on the edge of the sea,
dipping their feet in the water, there arose a great beast from under
the waves and swept them away beneath the ocean. And none knew whither
they had gone, or how to seek them.

Now there lived in a town a few miles off a soldier who had three sons,
fine youths and strong, and the best players at shinny in that country.
At Christmastide that year, when families met together and great
feasts were held, Ian, the youngest of the three brothers, said:

'Let us have a match at shinny on the lawn of the knight of Grianaig,
for his lawn is wider and the grass smoother than ours.'

But the others answered:

'Nay, for he is in sorrow, and he will think of the games that we have
played there when his daughters looked on.'

'Let him be pleased or angry as he will,' said Ian; 'we will drive our
ball on his lawn to-day.'

And so it was done, and Ian won three games from his brothers. But the
knight looked out of his window, and was wroth; and bade his men bring
the youths before him. When he stood in his hall and beheld them, his