With these words he dismissed the meeting, and it was time, for the
end of his tail had become so hot that there was danger of its setting
fire to the building.

The next morning, the Griffin came to the church, and tearing the
stone image of himself from its fastenings over the great door, he
grasped it with his powerful fore-legs and flew up into the air. Then,
after hovering over the town for a moment, he gave his tail an angry
shake and took up his flight to the dreadful wilds. When he reached
this desolate region, he set the stone Griffin upon a ledge of a rock
which rose in front of the dismal cave he called his home. There the
image occupied a position somewhat similar to that it had had over the
church-door; and the Griffin, panting with the exertion of carrying
such an enormous load to so great a distance, lay down upon the
ground, and regarded it with much satisfaction. When he felt somewhat
rested he went to look for the Minor Canon. He found the young man,
weak and half-starved, lying under the shadow of a rock. After picking
him up and carrying him to his cave, the Griffin flew away to a
distant marsh, where he procured some roots and herbs which he well
knew were strengthening and beneficial to man, though he had never
tasted them himself. After eating these the Minor Canon was greatly
revived, and sat up and listened while the Griffin told him what had
happened in the town.

"Do you know," said the monster, when he had finished, "that I have
had, and still have, a great liking for you?"

"I am very glad to hear it," said the Minor Canon, with his usual
politeness.