“That little beast won’t be able to carry me,” said the king’s son.
“Wait till you go riding on it,” said the hag.
The king’s son got on the garraun, and out for ever with him as fast as lightning.
When the sun was going under, that evening, he came to a little house in a wood. The king’s son got off the garraun, went in, and it was not long till an old grey man came out, and said:
“A hundred thousand welcomes to you, son of the king of the castle of Bwee-sounee. You’re in search of the Well of D’yerree-in-Dowan.”
“I am, indeed,” said the king’s son.
“Many’s the good man went that way before you; but not a man of them came back alive,” said the old man; “however, I’ll do my best for you. Stop here to-night, and we’ll have sport to-morrow.”
Then he dressed a supper and gave it to the king’s son, and when he ate and drank, the old man put him to sleep.
In the morning of the day on the morrow, the old man said: