had put out the
light, he took the pig's trough, and laid it bottom upward in his
place, covered it carefully with a shaggy coat, and lay down himself
under the bed, where he began to snore like a person who is sound
asleep.

The dragon went out softly, approached the bed, raised his club, and
struck one blow on the spot where Stan's head ought to have been. The
trough sounded hollow, Stan groaned, and the dragon tiptoed back
again.

Stan then crept out from under the bed, cleaned it, and lay down, but
was wise enough not to close an eye all night long.

The dragon and his mother were rigid with amazement when they saw Stan
come in the next morning as sound as an egg.

"Good morning!"

"Good morning; but how did you sleep last night?"

"Very well," replied Stan. "Only I dreamed that a flea bit me just
here on the forehead, and it seems as if it still pained me."

"Just listen to that, mother!" cried the dragon. "Did you hear? He
talks about a flea, and I hit him with my club!"

This was too much for the she-dragon. She perceived that it isn't
worth while to argue with such people. So they hastened to fill his
sacks, in order to get rid of him as quickly as possible. But poor
Stan now began to perspire. When he stood beside the bags, he trembled
like an aspen leaf, because he was unable to lift even one of them
from the ground. So he stood staring at them.

"Why are you standing there?" asked the dragon.

"H'm! I'm waiting," replied Stan, "because I would rather stay with
you another year. I'm ashamed to have any body see me carry away so
little at one time. I'm afraid people will say, 'Look at Stan Bolovan,
who in one year has grown as weak as a dragon.'"

Now, it was the two dragons' turn to be frightened.

They vainly told him that they would give him seven--nay, three times
seven or even seven times seven--sacks of ducats, if he would only go
away.

"I'll tell you what," said Stan, at last. "As I see you don't want to
keep me, I won't force you to do so. Have it your own way. I'll go.
But, that I need not be ashamed before the people, you must carry this
treasure home for me."

The words were scarcely out of his mouth, when the dragon picked up
the sacks and set off with Stan.

Short and smooth, yet always too long, is the road that leads home.
But, when Stan found himself close to his house, and heard his
children's shouts, he began to walk slower. It seemed too near; for he
was afraid that, if