ovisions,
though he wasn't at all pleased with the idea of having Stan serve his
year in merely going after the club. When they got back again to it,
Stan sat down on the bag of provisions and became absorbed in staring
at the moon.

"What are you doing?" asked the dragon.

"Only waiting for the moon to sail by."

"Why?"

"Don't you see that the moon is directly in my way?" said Stan. "Or do
you want me to fling the club into the moon?"

The dragon now began to be seriously anxious. It was a club that had
descended to him from his ancestors, and he wouldn't have liked to
lose it in the moon.

"I'll tell you what," he said. "Don't throw the club. I'll do it
myself."

"Certainly not. Heaven forbid!" replied Stan. "Only wait till the moon
passes by."

Then a long conversation followed; for Stan would not consent to have
the dragon throw the club again, except on the promise of seven sacks
of ducats.

"Oh, dear! mother, he's a tremendously strong man," said the dragon.
"I could scarcely prevent him from throwing the club into the moon."

The she-dragon began to be anxious, too. Just think of it! Would it be
a joke to have a person able to throw any thing into the moon? She was
a she-dragon of true dragon blood, however, and the next day had
thought of a still harder task.

"Bring some water," she said early in the morning, and gave each
twelve buffalo skins, ordering them to fill them by evening, and fetch
them all home at once.

They went to the well; and, before one could wink, the dragon had
filled the twelve skins, and was in the act of carrying them back.
Stan was tired, he had scarcely been able to drag the empty skins
along. A chill ran through his veins, when he thought of the full
ones. What do you suppose he did? He pulled a worn-out knife blade
from his belt, and began to scratch the earth around the well with it.

"What are you doing?" asked the dragon.

"I'm not a blockhead, that I should go to the labor of filling the
skins with water," replied Stan.

"But how will you carry the water to the house, then?"

"How? Just as you see," said Stan. "I'm going to take the well, you
goose!"

The dragon stood with his mouth wide-open in amazement. He wouldn't
have had this done on any account, for the well was one that had
belonged to his ancestors.

"I'll tell you," he said anxiously, "let me carry your skins home,
too."

"Certainly not. Heaven forbid!" replied Stan, digging on around the
we