t of her tail
had gone Edmund slammed down the iron door. He was a kindhearted boy, as
you have guessed, and he was glad to think that dragon and drakling
would now have plenty to eat of their favorite food, forever and ever.
He thanked the cockatrice for his kindness, and got home just in time to
have breakfast and get to school by nine. Of course, he could not have
done this if the town had been in its old place by the river in the
middle of the plain, but it had taken root on the hillside just where
the dragon left it.

"Well," said the master, "where were you yesterday?"

Edmund explained, and the master at once caned him for not speaking the
truth.

"But it _is_ true," said Edmund. "Why, the whole town was swallowed by
the dragon. You know it was--"

"Nonsense," said the master. "There was a thunderstorm and an
earthquake, that's all." And he caned Edmund more than ever.

"But," said Edmund, who always would argue, even in the least favorable
circumstances, "how do you account for the town being on the hillside
now, instead of by the river as it used to be?"

"It was _always_ on the hillside," said the master. And all the class
said the same, for they had more sense than to argue with a person who
carried a cane.

"But look at the maps," said Edmund, who wasn't going to be beaten in
argument, whatever he might be in the flesh. The master pointed to the
map on the wall.

There was the town, on the hillside! And nobody but Edmund could see
that of course the shock of being swallowed by the dragon had upset all
the maps and put them wrong.

And then the master caned Edmund again, explaining that this time it was
not for untruthfulness, but for his vexatious argumentative habits. This
will show you what a prejudiced and ignorant man Edmund's master
was--how different from the revered Head of the nice school where your
good parents are kind enough to send you.

The next day Edmund thought he would prove his tale by showing people
the cockatrice, and he actually persuaded some people to go into the
cave with him; but the cockatrice had bolted himself in and would not
open the door--so Edmund got nothing by that except a scolding for
taking people on a wild-goose chase.

"A wild goose," said they, "is nothing like a cockatrice."

And poor Edmund could not say a word, though he knew how wrong they
were. The only person who believed him was his granny. But then she was
very old and very kind, and had always