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. Goodnight!"

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
tomorrow!"


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