So the two started off for Darragh fort, and it not on fire at all—that was a story the man was after inventing for to scare the gankeynogue.
When they landed in sight of the place the man allowed the fire be to have burnt out. Didn’t the gankey make a run and lep in among the trees.
“I’m safe from you now,” says he.
But the man never let on to be vexed that he couldn’t see the lad any more, he listened to his voice speaking for to know the direction he went. Then he lay down in that part of the fort and let on to be asleep.
After a while he heard the gankeynogue telling his wife about how he was kept in the chest.
“I was ten days in that place,” says he. “And I full of venom against the farmer. But it’s the cunning lad I am, for I never let on where the treasure is buried at all.”
“Where is it?” asks the gankeynogue’s wife.
“Under a stone in the street before his house,” says the gankey. “And herself tripped and spilled a bucket of milk just over the place this morning. I was looking out on a hole in the chest, and still I never let on one word when I seen what happened.”
“You’re a wise little fellow, sure enough,” says his wife.
The farmer got up and away home with him after hearing what they said. He asked herself where she spilled the milk at the morning of the day.