te he was, into the thrap the king had made fur him.

"'Thanks,' says the king, 'I b'lave not. I've no bridle nor saddle,' says
he, 'besides, it's the shpring o' the year, an' I'm afeared ye're
sheddin', an' yer hair 'ull come aff an' spile me new britches,' says he,
lettin' on to make axcuse.

"'Have no fear,' says the Pooka. 'Sure I niver drop me hair. It's no
ordhinary garron av a horse I am, but a most oncommon baste that's used to
the quolity,' says he.

"'Yer spache shows that,' says the king, the clever man that he was, to be
perlite that-a-way to a Pooka, that's known to be a divil out-en-out, 'but
ye must exqueeze me this avenin', bekase, d'ye mind, the road's full o'
shtones an' monsthrous stape, an' ye look so young, I'm afeared ye'll
shtumble an' give me a fall,' says he.

"'Arrah thin,' says the Pooka, 'it's thrue fur yer Honor, I do look
young,' an' he begun to prance on the road givin' himself airs like an
owld widdy man afther wantin' a young woman, 'but me age is owlder than
ye'd suppoge. How owld 'ud ye say I was,' says he, shmilin'.

[Illustration: "IF IT'S AGGRAYBLE TO YE, I'LL LOOK IN YER MOUTH."]

"IF IT'S AGGRAYBLE TO YE, I'LL LOOK IN YER MOUTH."

"'Begorra, divil a bit know I,' says the king, 'but if it's agrayble to
ye, I'll look in yer mouth an' give ye an answer,' says he.

"So the Pooka come up to him fair an' soft an' stratched his mouth like as
he thought the king was wantin' fur to climb in, an' the king put his hand
on his jaw like as he was goin' to see the teeth he had: and thin, that
minnit he shlipped the three hairs round the Pooka's jaw, an' whin he done
that, he dhrew thim tight, an' said the charm crossin' himself the while,
an' immejitly the hairs wor cords av stale, an' held the Pooka tight, be
way av a bridle.

"'Arra-a-a-h, now, ye bloody baste av a murtherin' divil ye,' says the
king, pullin' out his big whip that he had consaled in his top-coat, an'
giving the Pooka a crack wid it undher his stummick, 'I'll give ye a ride
ye won't forgit in a hurry,' says he, 'ye black Turk av a four-legged
nagur an' you shtaling me white mare,' says he, hittin' him agin.

"'Oh my,' says the Pooka, as he felt the grip av the iron on his jaw an'
knewn he was undher an inchantmint, 'Oh my, phat's this at all,' rubbin'
his breast wid his hind heel, where the whip had hit him, an' thin jumpin'
wid his fore feet out to cotch the air an' thryin' fur to break away.
'Sure