"Stop!" he cried, when he saw the dragon near the fold; and he shouted
as though he was a person of importance.

"H'm," said the dragon: "where did you come from, that you screech at
me so?"

"I am Stan Bolovan, who at night devours rocks and by day grazes on
the trees of the primeval forests; and if you touch the flock, I'll
cut a cross on your back, and bathe you in holy water."

When the dragon heard these words, he stopped in the midst of his
career; for he saw that he had found his match.

"But you must first fight with me," replied the dragon, hesitatingly.

"_I_ fight with you?" cried Stan. "Beware of the words that have
escaped your lips. My breath is stronger than your whole body." Then,
taking from his knapsack a piece of white cheese, he showed it to the
dragon. "Do you see this stone?" he said. "Pick one up from the bank
of yonder stream, and we'll try our strength."

The dragon took a stone from the shore of the brook.

"Can you squeeze buttermilk out of the stone?" asked Stan.

The dragon crushed the stone in his hand, so that he crumbled it into
powder. But he squeezed no buttermilk from it.

"It can't be done," he said rather angrily.

"I'll show you whether it can be done," replied Stan, and then
squeezed the soft cheese in his hand, till the buttermilk trickled
down between his fingers.

When the dragon saw this, he began to look about him to find the
shortest road to run away; but Stan placed himself before the forest.
"Let us have a little reckoning about what you have taken from the
fold," he said. "Nothing is given away here."

The poor dragon would have taken flight, if he hadn't been afraid that
Stan might blow behind him, and bury him under the trees in the
forest. So he stood still, like a person who doesn't know what else to
do.

"Listen!" he said, after a while. "I see that you are a useful man. My
mother has long been looking for a servant like you, but has not been
able to find one. Enter our service. The year has three days, and each
day's wages is seven sacks of ducats!"

Three times seven sacks of ducats! A fine business! That was just what
Stan needed. "And," he thought, "if I've outwitted the dragon, I can
probably get the better of his mother!" So he didn't waste many words
about the matter, but set off with the monster. A long, rough road;
but still it was too short, since it led to a bad end. It seemed to
Stan as if he had arrived almost before he started.

The o