The first evening he was sitting by his clear fire, the little boy came in at the door.
“Didn’t I do well for you, Paddy?” says he.
“You did surely. I have more gold in that sack than ever I’ll contrive for to spend.”
“Ah, not at all! It is twice as much I’ll be getting for you.”
“Is it another King’s daughter has need of a cure?” asks Paddy.
“No, but a different business entirely. There is a great bully to be fought in the City of Dublin, and yourself is the man shall win it.”
“Do you tell me so!” says Paddy.
“In troth I do. The man you have to fight is a big, fierce fellow no one can get the better of. He has the youth of the world battered to pieces, the way no person comes forward against him any more. There is a fine purse of money put up for to entice a champion to face him; and there will be great laughter when yourself puts in an appearance. They will ask if you are wishful to fight with gloves on your hands, but it is your bare fists are the best. Let you say you’ll toss for which it is to be, but toss with the half-crown I give you, and you are certain to win. Myself is coming to that place for to second you, and it’s bound to be the grandest bully was seen in the City of Dublin.”
With that the little fellow went away out of the house. And at the morning of the day my brave old Paddy started for Dublin. He wasn’t too long on the road, for he got a lift from a man was driving there to see the bully. Well, there was odious laughing and cheering when the crowd saw the champion was come to accept the challenge. The big man was after battering the youth of the world, allowed he had no notion of striving against the likes of Paddy. But when no person else came forward they were bound for to accept him, and they asked would he wear gloves on his fists.
“We’ll be tossing for that,” says he, bringing out the half-crown he had from the little boy in the red cap.