ragon-tree; perhaps as old as that of Oritava.

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.

I communicated my convictions to Ben, who still persisted in calling the
tree a palm. How should I know what sort of a tree it was, since I had
never seen one before? I told Ben of the book and the picture but he
was still incredulous.

"Well then," said I, "I'll tell you how we can prove whether I am right
or no."

"How?" demanded Ben.

"Why, if the tree bleeds it must be a dragon."

"Bleeds?" echoed Ben, "why, my boy, ain't you mad? who e'er heard o' a
tree bleedin'?"

"Run sap, I mean."

"Oh that be hanged, lad! Sure you know that any sort o' tree 'll run
sap; 'ceptin' it be a dead 'un."

"But not red sap!"

"What! you think yon ere tree 'ud run red sap, do ye?"

"I am almost sure of it--red as blood."

"Well, if it do then I'll believe 'ee, my lad; but it are precious easy
to try. Let's go up to it, and gie it a prod with the knife, and then
we'll see what sort o' sap it's got in its ugly veins--for dang it, it
are about the ugliest piece o' growin' timber I e'er set eyes on; ne'er
a mast nor spar to be had out o' it, I reckon. It sartinly are ugly
enough to make a gallows of. Come on, my lad!"

Ben started forward towards the tree, and I followed him. We did not
walk particularly fast, as there was no need to be in a hurry. The tree
was not likely to run away from us like the birds and beasts. There
were no signs of motion about it; and it would have taken a strong wind
to have stirred, either its leaves or branches. It had a look of great
firmness, and more resembled cast-iron than a vegetable substance; but
as we drew nearer, its forbidding aspect was to some extent relieved by
the appearance of its flowers, the strong fragrance of which reached our
nostrils from a great distance off.

Immediately around the tree, and for several yards outwards, there was a
bed of tall, sedge-looking grass. It was withered, and of a yellowish
colour, not unlike a piece of standing wheat, but much taller. It
appeared a little trampled and tossed, as if some heavy animal had been
passing through it, and in one or two places had rolled in it. This
might all very naturally be, in a country where large animals abound.
The antelopes might have been there, resting themselves under the shade,
and taking advantage of the fine grass to couch upon.

Neither my companion nor I took any heed of these signs, but walked
boldly up to the tre