ing: "There is a man coming up and he looks like a fool; we 'll have fun!"
"Hold your tongue!" said the master. "Have you heard any account of the bull of the Mist these three days?"
"We have not," said the boys.
"Perhaps," said the Strong Smith, "that 's a good champion that 's coming, and do you mind yourselves."
At that moment Cucúlin walked in to the forge where twelve boys and the master were working. He saluted them and asked, "Can you put a blade in this hilt?"
"We can," said the master. They put in the blade. Cucúlin raised the sword and took a shake out of it and broke it to bits.
"This is a rotten blade," said he. "Go at it again."
They made a second blade. The boys were in dread of him now. He broke the second blade in the same way as the first. They made six blades, one stronger than the other. He did the same to them all.
"There is no use in talking," said the Strong Smith; "we have no stuff that would make a right blade for you. Go down now," said he to two of the boys, "and bring up an old sword that 's down in the stable full of rust."
