of poor little Alphonso was
lying in the valley, all broken and useless. But the Firedrake, as happy
as a wild duck on a lonely loch, was rolling and diving in the liquid
flame, all red-hot and full of frolic.

"Hi!" shouted the prince.

The Firedrake rose to the surface, his horns as red as a red crescent-
moon, only bigger, and lashing the fire with his hoofs and his blazing
tail.

"Who's there?" he said in a hoarse, angry voice. "Just let me get at
you!"

"It's me," answered the prince. It was the first time he had forgotten
his grammar, but he was terribly excited.

"What do you want?" grunted the beast. "I wish I could see you"; and,
horrible to relate, he rose on a pair of wide, flaming wings, and came
right at the prince, guided by the sound of his voice.

Now, the prince had never heard that Firedrakes could fly; indeed, he had
never believed in them at all, till the night before. For a moment he
was numb with terror; then he flew down like a stone to the very bottom
of the hill, and shouted:

"Hi!"

"Well," grunted the Firedrake, "what's the matter? Why can't you give a
civil answer to a civil question?"

"Will you go back to your hole and swear, on your honour as a Firedrake,
to listen quietly?"

"On my sacred word of honour," said the beast, casually scorching an
eagle that flew by into ashes. The cinders fell, jingling and crackling,
round the prince in a little shower.

Then the Firedrake dived back, with an awful splash of flame, and the
mountain roared round him.

The prince now flew high above him, and cried:

"A message from the Remora. He says you are afraid to fight him."

"Don't know him," grunted the Firedrake.

"He sends you his glove," said Prince Prigio, "as a challenge to mortal
combat, till death do you part."

Then he dropped his own glove into the fiery lake.

"Does he?" yelled the Firedrake. "Just let me get at him!" and he
scrambled out, all red-hot as he was.

"I'll go and tell him you're coming," said the prince; and with two
strides he was over the frozen mountain of the Remora.

CHAPTER X.

_The Prince and the Remora_.

If he had been too warm before, the prince was too cold now. The hill of
the Remora was one solid mass of frozen steel, and the cold rushed out of
it like the breath of some icy beast, which indeed it _was_. All around
were things like marble statues of men in armour: they were the dead
bodies of the knights, horses and al