for, in fact, Cadmus had leaped so far down into his throat,
that the rows of terrible teeth could not close upon him, nor
do him the least harm in the world. Thus, though the struggle
was a tremendous one, and though the dragon shattered the tuft
of trees into small splinters by the lashing of his tail, yet,
as Cadmus was all the while slashing and stabbing at his very
vitals, it was not long before the scaly wretch bethought
himself of slipping away. He had not gone his length, however,
when the brave Cadmus gave him a sword thrust that finished the
battle; and creeping out of the gateway of the creature's jaws,
there he beheld him still wriggling his vast bulk, although
there was no longer life enough in him to harm a little child.

But do not you suppose that it made Cadmus sorrowful to think
of the melancholy fate which had befallen those poor, friendly
people, who had followed the cow along with him? It seemed as
if he were doomed to lose everybody whom he loved, or to see
them perish in one way or another. And here he was, after all
his toils and troubles, in a solitary place, with not a single
human being to help him build a hut.

"What shall I do?" cried he aloud. "It were better for me to
have been devoured by the dragon, as my poor companions were."

"Cadmus," said a voice but whether it came from above or below
him, or whether it spoke within his own breast, the young man
could not tell--"Cadmus, pluck out the dragon's teeth, and
plant them in the earth."

This was a strange thing to do; nor was it very easy, I should