Next day the turf-keeper, the miller, the dairywoman, and the shepherd went to complain to the king of what Micky had done.
“It is not luck we asked for the first day we drew him on us,” said the king.
The king started and never stopped nor stayed till he went to his old druid. “Such a man as we have brought on us,” said the king. “Tell me now how to put an end to him.”
“There is,” said the druid, “a black mad hound in a wood beyond the mountain. Tell Micky that you lost that hound one day in the hunt, and to bring her and he will be well paid for his trouble.”
The king sent for Micky, and told him all as the druid advised.
“Will you send any man with me to show me the road?”
“I will,” said the king.
Micky and the man were soon travelling along the road toward the mountain. When Micky thought it too slow the man was walking, he asked, “Have you any walk better than that?”
“Why, then, I have not,” said the man, “and I am tired, and it is because I have such a good walk that I was sent with you.”