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So the fellows gathered round Tom, and the bad man aggravated him till
he told them he didn't care a pinch o' snuff for the whole bilin' of
'em; let 'em come on, six at a time, and try what they could do.
The king, who was too far off to hear what they were saying, asked what
did the stranger want.
"He wants," says the red-headed fellow, "to make hares of your best
men."
"Oh!" says the king, "if that's the way, let one of 'em turn out and
try his mettle."
So one stood forward, with sword and pot-lid, and made a cut at Tom. He
struck the fellow's elbow with the club, and up over their heads flew
the sword, and down went the owner of it on the gravel from a thump he
got on the helmet. Another took his place, and another, and another,
and then half a dozen at once, and Tom sent swords, helmets, shields,
and bodies, rolling over and over, and themselves bawling out that they
were kilt, and disabled, and damaged, and rubbing their poor elbows and
hips, and limping away. Tom contrived not to kill any one; and the
princess was so amused, that she let a great sweet laugh out of her
that was heard over all the yard.
"King of Dublin," says Tom, "I've quarter your daughter."
And the king didn't know whether he was glad or sorry, and all the
blood in the princess's heart run into her cheeks.
So there was no more fighting that day, and Tom was invited to dine
with the royal family. Next day, Redhead told Tom of a wolf, the size
of a yearling heifer, that used to be serenading about the walls, and
eating people and cattle; and said what a pleasure it would give the
king to have it killed.
"With all my heart," says Tom; "send a jackeen to show me where he
lives, and we'll see how he behaves to a stranger."
The princess was not well pleased, for Tom looked a different person
with fine clothes and a nice green birredh over his long curly hair;
and besides, he'd got one laugh out of her. However, the king gave his
consent; and in an hour and a half the horrible wolf was walking into
the palace-yard, and Tom a step or two behind, with his club on his
shoulder, just as a shepherd would be walking after a pet lamb.
The king and queen and princess were safe up in their gallery, but the
officers and people of the court that wor padrowling about the great
bawn, when they saw the big baste coming in, gave themselves up, and
began to make for doors and gates; and the wolf licked his chops, as if
he was saying, "Wouldn't I enjoy a breakfast off a couple of yez!"
The king shouted out, "O Tom with the Goat-skin, take away that
terrible wolf, and you must have all my daughter."
But Tom didn't mind him a bit. He pulled out his flute and began to
play like vengeance; and dickens a man or boy in the yard but began
shovelling away heel and toe, and the wolf himself was obliged to get
on his hind legs and dance "Tatther Jack Walsh," along with the rest. A
good deal of the people got inside, and shut the doors, the way the
hairy fellow wouldn't pin them; but Tom kept playing, and the outsiders
kept dancing and shouting, and the wolf kept dancing and roaring with
the pain his legs were giving him; and all the time he had his eyes on
Redhead, who was shut out along with the rest. Wherever Redhead went,
the wolf followed, and kept one eye on him and the other on Tom, to see
if he would give him leave to eat him. But Tom shook his head, and
never stopped the tune, and Redhead never stopped dancing and bawling,
and the wolf dancing and roaring, one leg up and the other down, and he
ready to drop out of his standing from fair tiresomeness.
When the princess seen that there was no fear of any one being kilt,
she was so divarted by the stew that Redhead was in, that she gave
another great laugh; and well become Tom, out he cried, "King of
Dublin, I have two halves of your daughter."
"Oh, halves or alls," says the king, "put away that divel of a wolf,
and we'll see about it."
So Tom put his flute in his pocket, and says he to the baste that was
sittin' on his currabingo ready to faint, "Walk off to your mountain,
my fine fellow, and live like a respectable baste; and if ever I find
you come within seven miles of any town, I'll--"
He said no more, but spit in his fist, and gave a flourish of his club.
It was all the poor divel of a wolf wanted: he put his tail between his
legs, and took to his pumps without looking at man or mortal, and
neither sun, moon, or stars ever saw him in sight of Dublin again.
At dinner every one laughed but the foxy fellow; and sure enough he was
laying out how he'd settle poor Tom next day.
"Well, to be sure!" says he, "King of Dublin, you are in luck. There's
the Danes moidhering us to no end. Deuce run to Lusk wid 'em! and if
any one can save us from 'em, it is this gentleman with the goat-skin.
There is a flail hangin' on the collar-beam, in hell, and neither Dane
nor devil can stand before it."
"So," says Tom to the king, "will you let me have the other half of the
princess if I bring you the flail?"
"No, no," says the princess; "I'd rather never be your wife than see