“Where can I find that Whelp?” inquired Dyeermud.
“The world is wide,” said the king. “Follow your nose. It will lead you. If I were to say ’tis in the west the whelp is, maybe ’tis in the east he’d be; or in the north, maybe he’d be in the south. So here and now you cannot blame me if I say not where he is.”
“Well,” said Dyeermud, “as I am going for the whelp, I ask you to loose Fin MacCool from what bonds he is in, to place him in the best chamber of your castle, to give him the best food and drink, the best bed to lie on, and, besides, the amusements most pleasing to his mind.”
“What you ask shall be granted,” said the king, who thought to himself, “Your head and Fin’s will be mine in the end.”
Dyeermud went home to the long house, sat down in his chair, and gloomy was his face.
“O Dyeermud,” said the small chief, “you are not coming in with such looks, nor so bright in the face, as when you left here this morning. I’ll lay my head as a wager that you are sent to bring the hound-whelp with the golden chain.”
“True,” said Dyeermud, “and where to find him I know not.”
“Eat your supper, then sleep, and to-morrow I’ll show you where that whelp is. Indeed, it is the task you have on you; for many a good champion lost his head in striving to come at that whelp.”
Next morning Dyeermud and the small chief set out, and toward evening they came within sight of a grand, splendid castle.