settled, and if you don't
mind--I 'm an old-fashioned fellow--don't want to turn you out, but--"

"Remember, you'll have to do your proper share of the fighting, dragon!"
said St. George, as he took the hint and rose to go; "I mean ramping,
and breathing fire, and so on!"

"I can ramp all right," replied the dragon, confidently; "as to
breathing fire, it's surprising how easily one gets out of practice, but
I'll do the best I can. Good-night!"

They had descended the hill and were almost back in the village again,
when St. George stopped short, "Knew I had forgotten something," he
said. "There ought to be a Princess. Terror-stricken and chained to a
rock, and all that sort of thing. Boy, can't you arrange a Princess?"

The Boy was in the middle of a tremendous yawn. "I'm tired to death," he
wailed, "and I can't arrange a Princess, or anything more, at this time
of night. And my mother's sitting up, and do stop asking me to arrange
more things till to-morrow!"

Next morning the people began streaming up to the Downs at quite
an early hour, in their Sunday clothes and carrying baskets with
bottle-necks sticking out of them, every one intent on securing good
places for the combat. This was not exactly a simple matter, for of
course it was quite possible that the dragon might win, and in that case
even those who had put their money on him felt they could hardly expect
him to deal with his backers on a different footing to the rest. Places
were chosen, therefore, with circumspection and with a view to a speedy
retreat in case of emergency; and the front rank was mostly composed of
boys who had escaped from parental control and now sprawled and rolled
about on the grass, regardless of the shrill threats and warnings
discharged at them by their anxious mothers behind.

The Boy had secured a good front place, well up towards the cave, and
was feeling as anxious as a stage-manager on a first night. Could the
dragon be depended upon? He might change his mind and vote the whole
performance rot; or else, seeing that the affair had been so hastily
planned, without even a rehearsal, he might be too nervous to show up.
The Boy looked narrowly at the cave, but it showed no sign of life or
occupation. Could the dragon have made a moon-light flitting?

The higher portions of the ground were now black with sightseers, and
presently a sound of cheering and a waving of handkerchiefs told
that something was visible to them which the