blade would always drip.
It is my master, yonder, who thwarts my duty." And he nodded toward
King Terribus.

"Then you should exercise your right on him, and cleave the ugly head
from his shoulders," declared the prince.

"Nay, unless I interfered with the Fool-Killer," said the king, "I
should soon have no subjects left to rule; for at one time or another
they all deserve the blade."

"Why, that may be true enough," replied Prince Marvel. "But I think,
under such circumstances, your Fool-Killer is a needless servant. So I
will rid you of him in a few moments."

With that he whipped out his sword and stood calmly confronting the
Fool-Killer, whose grave face never changed in expression as he
advanced menacingly upon his intended victim. The blades clashed
together, and that of the Fool-Killer broke short off at the hilt. He
took a step backward, stumbled and fell prone upon the rocky floor,
while Prince Marvel sprang forward and pressed the point of his sword
against his opponent's breast.

"Hold!" cried the king, starting to his feet. "Would you slay my
Fool-Killer? Think of the harm you would do the world!"

"But he is laggard and unfaithful to his calling!" answered the prince,
sternly.

"Nevertheless, if he remove but one fool a year he is a benefit to
mankind," declared the king. "Release him, I pray you!"

Then the victor withdrew his sword and stood aside, while the
Fool-Killer slowly got upon his feet and bowed humbly before the king.

"Go!" shouted Terribus, his eye flashing angrily. "You have humiliated
me before my enemy. As an atonement see that you kill me a fool a day
for sixty days."

Hearing this command, many of the people about the throne began to
tremble; but the king paid no attention to their fears, and the
Fool-Killer bowed again before his master and withdrew from the chamber.

9. The Royal Dragon of Spor

"Now," said Terribus, regarding the prince gloomily, "I must dispose of
you in another way."

For a moment he dropped his scarlet head in thought. Then he turned
fiercely upon his attendants.

"Let the Wrestler come forward!" he shouted, as loudly as his mild
voice would carry.

Instantly a tall blackamoor advanced from the throng and cast off his
flowing robe, showing a strong figure clad only in a silver loincloth.

"Crack me this fellow's bones!" commanded Terribus.

"I beg your Majesty will not compel me to touch him," said Prince
Marvel, with a slight