saddle was tearing with its claws, drawing back its head and driving it
forward again with horrid force against the visor, and was at such
close quarters that the knight could not possibly either draw or use his
sword. It was a horrible beast, too; evidently a young dragon. As it sat
on the saddle-bow, its head was just about on a level with the knight's.
It had four short legs with long toes and claws. It clung to the saddle
with the hind feet and tore with the fore feet, as I said. Its head was
rather long, and had two pointed ears and two small sharp horns.
Besides, it had bat wings, with which it buffeted the knight, but its
tail was short. I don't know whether it had been bitten or cut off in
some previous fight. It was all of a mustard-yellow colour. The knight
was for the moment having a bad time of it, for the horse was plunging
and the dragon doing its very worst. The crisis was not long, though.
The knight took hold of the right wing with both hands and tore the
membrane upwards to the root, like parchment. It bled yellow blood, and
the dragon gave a grating scream. Then he clutched it hard by the neck
and managed to wrench it away from its hold on the saddle; and when it
was in the air, he whirled its body, heavy as it was, first over his
back and then forwards again, and its neck-bone, I suppose, broke, for
it was quite limp when he cast it down. He looked down at it for a
little, and seeing it stir, he got off, with the rein over his arm, drew
his sword, cut the head off, and kicked it away some yards. The next
thing he did was to push up his visor, look upward, mutter something I
could not well hear, and cross himself; after which he said aloud,
"Where man finds one of a brood, he may look for more," mounted, turned
his horse's head and galloped off the way he had come.
We had not followed him far through the wood when--
"Bother!" said Wag, "there's the bell"; and he reached over and slid
back the knobs in the frame, and the knight stopped.
I was full of questions, but there was no time to put them. Good-nights
had to be said quickly, and Father Wag saw me out of the front door.
I set out on what seemed a considerable walk across the rough grass
towards the enormous building in which I lived. I suppose I did not
really take many minutes about getting to the path; and as I stepped on
to it--rather carefully, for it was a longish way down--why, without any
shock or any odd feeling, I was my own size again. And I went to bed
pondering much upon the events of the day.
* * * * *
Well, I began this communication by saying that I was going to explain
to you how it was that I "heard something from the owls," and I think I
have explained how it is that I am able to say that I have done so.
Exactly what it was that you and I were talking about when I mentioned
the owls, I dare say neither of us remembers. As you can see, I have
had more exciting experiences than merely conversing with
them--interesting, and, I think, unusual as that is. I have not, of
course, told you nearly all there is to tell, but perhaps I have said
enough for the present. More, if you should wish it, another time.
As to present conditions. To-day there is a slight coolness between Wisp
and the cat. He made his way into a mouse-hole which she was watching,
and enticed her close up to it by scratchings and other sounds, and
then, when she came quite near (taking great trouble, of course, to make
no noise whatever), he put his head out and blew in her face, which
affronted her very much. However, I believe I have persuaded her that he
meant no harm.
The room is rather full of them to-night. Wag and most of the rest are
rehearsing a play which they mean to present before I go. Slim, who
happens not to be wanted for a time, is manoeuvring on the table,
facing me, and is trying to produce a portrait of me which shall be a
little less libellous than his first effort. He has just now shown me
the final production, with which he is greatly pleased. I am not.
Farewell. I am, with the usual expressions of regard,
Yours,
M (or N).