forebye."

The Laird thanked him heartily, and after a while the Dwarf became
more liberal-spirited still.

"Yese no have to say that ye've been with the _Daoiné Shi_ and are no
the better for it," he said. "I'm thinking I'll grant ye three wushes.
But choose wisely, man, and dinna throw _them_ away. I hae my fears
that ye're no without a bee in your bonnet, Brockburn."

Incensed by this insinuation, the Laird defended his own sagacity at
some length, and retorted on his companion with doubts of the power of
the _Daoiné Shi_ to grant wishes.

"The proof of the pudding's in the eating o't," said the Man of Peace.
"Wush away, Brockburn, and mak the nut as hard to crack as ye will."

The Laird at once began to cast about in his mind for three wishes
sufficiently comprehensive to secure his lifelong prosperity; but the
more he beat his brains the less could he satisfy himself.

How many miles he wandered thus, the Dwarf keeping silently beside
him, he never knew, before he sank exhausted on the ground, saying:

"I'm thinking, man, that if ye could bring hame to me, in place of
bringing me hame, I'd misdoubt your powers nae mair. It's a far cry to
Loch Awe,[7] ye ken, and it's a weary long road to Brockburn."

[Footnote 7: "It's a far cry to Loch Awe."--_Scotch Proverb_.]