retched out his hand in haste to
the nearest flower, lest in a little while he should be no more than a
part of the giant's dream. 'O beloved Heart of Melilot!' he cried, and
crushed his fingers upon the stem.

The whole bough crackled and sprang away at his touch; the Rose turned
upon him, screaming and spouting fire; a noise like thunder filled all
the air. Every rose in the garden turned and spat flame at where he
stood. His face and his hands became blistered with the heat.

Leaping upon the back of his Plough, he cried, 'Carry me to the
borders of the garden where there are open spaces! The price of the
Princess is upon my head!'

The Plough bounded this way and that, searching for some outlet by
which to escape. It flew in spirals and circles, it leaped like a
flea, it burrowed like a mole, it ploughed up the rose-trees by the
roots. But so soon as it had passed they stood up unharmed again, and
to whatever point of refuge the Plough fled, that way they all turned
their heads and darted out vomitings of fire.

In vain did Noodle summon the Well-folk to his aid; his crystal shot
forth fountains of water that turned into steam as they rose, and fell
back again, scalding him.

Then with two deaths threatening to devour him, he brandished the
ring, calling upon the Fire-eaters for their aid.

They laughed as they came. 'Here is food for you!' he cried. 'Multiply
your appetites about me, or I shall be consumed in these flames!'

'Brandish again!' cried they--the same seven whom he had fed. 'We are
not enough; this fire is not quenchable.'

Noodle brandished till the whole garden swarmed with their kind. One
fastened himself upon every rose, a gulf opposing itself to a torrent.
All sight of the conflagration disappeared; but within there went a
roaring sound, and the bodies of the Fire-eaters crackled, growing
large and luminous the while.

'Do your will quickly and begone!' cried the Fire-eaters. 'Even now we
swell to bursting with the pumping in of these fires!'

Noodle seized on a rose to which one hung, sucking out its heats. He
tugged, but the strong fibres held. Then he locked himself to the back
of the Plough, crying to it and caressing its speed with all names
under heaven, and beseeching it in the name of Melilot to break free.
And the Plough giving but one plunge, the Rose came away into Noodle's
hand, panting and a prisoner. All blushing it grew and radiant, with a
soft inner glow, and an odour of