He won the toss, sure enough, and he allowed it was bare-handed he’d strive. All the time he was looking round, anxious like, but he could see no sign of the one that was to second him. He went into the ring in odious dread; but then the little fellow came and stood beside him. My brave Paddy let out and he struck the champion one blow, and didn’t he lay him dead at his feet.
It was then there was roaring and cheering for the old man. And in all the confusion the little lad got away; Paddy never seen where he went. The whole crowd took up a terrible great collection of money for the champion was after destroying the man with a single blow. That lot of gold, along with the purse was promised for the fight, filled a sack as full as it could hold. So Paddy went home well rewarded, and not a bit the worse of his jaunt to the City of Dublin.
The first evening he was sitting by his own fireside, the little boy in the red cap came in at the door.
“Didn’t I do well for you, Paddy?” says he.
“You did, surely. It is rich for life I am owing to your contrivances.”
“Then will you be doing me a service in return for all?” asks the little fellow.
“Indeed then, I will,” says Paddy.
“We have all arranged for to cross over to France this night. We intend for to bring away the lady you cured, the King’s daughter of that country,” says the boy. “But we cannot contrive for to accomplish the like unless we have flesh and blood along with us. Will you come?”
“Aye, surely!” says Paddy.
With that the two went out at the door and across the road into a field. It was thronged with regiments of the Good People, past belief or counting. They were running every way through the field, calling out: