"Home!" says he, and when he let go, Pat was at his own doorstep before he could look round, and his parcels safe and sound with him.
Next morning he was up with the sun, and carried the fairy man's shoes back to the Rath. As he came up, the little man looked over the ditch.
"The top of the morning to, your honour," says Pat; "here's your shoes."
"You're an honest boy, Pat," says the little gentleman. "It's inconvenienced I am without them, for. I have but the one pair. Have you looked at the yellow flowers this morning?" he says.
"I have not, sir," says Pat; "I'd be loth to deceive you. I came off as soon as I was up."
"Be sure to look when you get back, Pat," says the fairy man, "and good luck to ye."
With which he disappeared, and Pat went home. He looked for the furze-blossoms, as the fairy man told him, and there's not a word of truth in this tale if they weren't all pure gold pieces.
Well, now Pat was so rich, he went to the shoemaker to order another pair of brogues, and being a kindly, gossiping boy, the shoemaker soon learned the whole story of the fairy man and the Rath. And this so stirred up the shoemaker's greed that he resolved to go the very next night himself, to see if he could not dance with the fairies, and have like luck.
He found his way to the Rath all correct, and sure enough the fairies were dancing, and they asked him to join. He danced the soles off his brogues, as Pat did, and the fairy man lent him his shoes, and sent him home in a twinkling.
As he was going over the ditch, he looked round, and saw the roots of the furze-bushes glowing with precious stones as if they had been glow-worms.