"I will not," said the old man; "I want him myself."
The Gruagach then begged and craved till the fisherman promised to let the son with him for a year and a day again. But the old man forgot to take his word of the Gruagach to bring back the son at the end of the time; and when the Gruagach and the boy were in the boat, and had pushed out to sea, the Gruagach shouted to the old man: "I kept my promise to bring back your son to-day. I have n't given you my word at all now. I 'll not bring him back, and you 'll never see him again."
The fisherman went home with a heavy and sorrowful heart, and the old woman scolded him all that night till next morning for letting her son go with the Gruagach a second time.
Then himself and the old woman were lamenting a quarter of a year; and when another quarter had passed, he said to her: "I 'll leave you here now, and I 'll be walking on myself till I wear my legs off up to my knees, and from my knees to my waist, till I find where is my son."
So away went the old man walking, and he used to spend but one night in a house, and not two nights in any house, till his feet were all in blisters. One evening late he came to a hut where there was an old woman sitting at a fire.
