But Dermot would not go. “I’d think a man a fine champion if he sneaked in and took something of mine,” he said. “Not even for Finn will I do such a thing. I am going back and take the hound away from the giant as a champion should.”
No argument of the small chief did any good. Back they went to the castle and again the small chief stayed outside.
“Since you are bent on being foolish, I will give you some more advice,” said the little fellow. “The giant is strongest on his stone floor. Much of his strength leaves him when he is on soft earth.”
“I thank you for your help,” said Dermot.
He slipped in quietly and fastened the hound to the wall. Then he went around to the main door and stepped into the room. Instantly the giant saw him and sprang to his feet.
“What do you want?” he roared.
“Your hound and your golden chain,” answered Dermot.
“Well, you’ll not get him from me,” roared the giant. He made a rush at Dermot and grappled with him.
Now the Red Giant was a big man in the White Nation, but you must remember that Dermot was a big man, too. It turned out that they were about equal in strength. At the first rush of the giant, both men went down on the floor where they struggled desperately. Back and forth they rolled, with Dermot putting every bit of his strength into the effort to get them out on the ground. Finally, with a mighty heave, he succeeded in causing them both to roll out of the castle door.
As soon as they struck the soft earth Dermot was the stronger. He picked up the Red Giant and drove him into the earth like a post, until only his head was above ground.