great castle. He left the king's son and his people there, and he went to the castle by himself, and he drew the coolaya-coric, and he did not leave child with woman, foal with mare, pigeen with pig, or badger in glen, but he turned them over three times with all the sound he struck out of the coolaya-coric. The giant came out, and he said: "I feel the smell of a melodious lying Irishman under my sod of country."
"No melodious lying Irishman am I," said the short green man; "but my master is standing at the head of the avenue, and if he comes he shall strike the head off you."
And with that the short green man began swelling until he was the size of the castle at last. There came fear on the giant, and he said: "Is your master as big as yourself?"
"He is," said the short green man, "and bigger."
"Oh! put me in hiding; put me in hiding," said the giant, "until your master goes; and anything you will be asking you must get it."
He took the giant with him, and he put him under the mouth of a douac, and a lock on him. He came back, and he brought the king of Ireland's son, the gunman, the earman, the footman, the blowman, and the man who broke stones with the side of his thigh, into the castle with him, and they spent that night merrily—a third of it with Fenian tales, a third of it with telling stories, and a third of it with the mild enjoyment of slumber and of true sleep.
In the morning, the day on the morrow, he brought the son of the king of Ireland out, and his people with him, and left them at the head of the avenue, and he came back himself and loosed out the giant, and said to him, that he must give him the rusty sword that was
