"My dear little man," said the dragon solemnly, "just understand,
once for all, that I can't fight and I won't fight. I've never
fought in my life, and I'm not going to begin now, just to give
you a Roman holiday. In old days I always let the other
fellows--the EARNEST fellows--do all the fighting, and no
doubt that's why I have the pleasure of being here now."

"But if you don't fight he'll cut your head off!" gasped the Boy,
miserable at the prospect of losing both his fight and his
friend.

"Oh, I think not," said the dragon in his lazy way. "You'll be
able to arrange something. I've every confidence in you, you're
such a MANAGER. Just run down, there's a dear chap, and make
it all right. I leave it entirely to you."

The Boy made his way back to the village in a state of great
despondency. First of all, there wasn't going to be any fight;
next, his dear and honoured friend the dragon hadn't shown up in
quite such a heroic light as he would have liked; and lastly,
whether the dragon was a hero at heart or not, it made no
difference, for St. George would most undoubtedly cut his head
off. "Arrange things indeed!" he said bitterly to himself. "The
dragon treats the whole affair as if it was an invitation to tea
and croquet."

The villagers were straggling homewards as he passed up the
street, all of them in the highest spirits, and gleefully
discussing the splendid fight that was in store. The Boy pursued