“He is, and bigger.”
“Hide me,” said the giant, “till morning, until your master goes, and anything you will be wanting you must get it.”
He brought the giant with him, and he put him under the mouth of a douac (great vessel of some sort). He went out and brought in the son of the king of Ireland, the gunman, the earman, the footman, the blowman, and the man who broke stones with the side of his thigh, and they spent that night, one-third of it telling Fenian stories, one-third telling tales, and one-third in the mild enjoyment of slumber and of true sleep until morning.
In the morning, the day on the morrow, the short green man brought the king’s son and his people out of the castle, and left them at the head of the avenue, and he went back himself and asked the giant for the old slippers that were left under the head of his bed.
The giant said that he would give his master a pair of boots as good as ever he wore; and what good was there in the old slippers?
The short green man said that unless he got the slippers he would go for his master to whip the head off him.
Then the giant said that he would give them to him, and he gave them.
“Any time,” said he, “that you will put those slippers on you, and say ‘high-over!’ any place you have a mind to go to, you will be in it.”
The son of the king of Ireland, the short green man, the gunman, the earman, the footman, the blowman, and the man who broke stones with the side of his thigh, went forward until evening came, and the end of the day, until the horse would be going under the shade of the docking, and the docking would not wait for him. The king’s son asked the short green man where should they be that night, and the short green man said that they would be in the house of the brother of the giant with whom they spent the night before. The king’s son looked from him and he saw nothing. The short green man looked from him and he saw a great castle. He left the king’s son and his people there, and he went to the castle by himself, and he drew the coolaya-coric, and he did not leave child with woman, foal with mare, pigeen with pig, or badger in glen, but he turned them over three times with all the sound he struck out of the coolaya-coric. The giant came out, and he said: “I feel the smell of a melodious lying Irishman under my sod of country.”
“No melodious lying Irishman am I,” said the short green man; “but my master is standing at the head of the avenue, and if he comes he shall strike the head off you.”