Contains a Dilemma with two simply egregious Horns.
[Illustration]
"Run instantly into the house," said Geoffrey to Elaine, and he
dragged out his sword.
But she stared at him, and nothing further.
"Or no. Stay here and see me kill him," the boy added, pridefully.
"Kill him!" said she, in amazement. "Do you suppose that papa, with
all his experience, couldn't tell it was an imitation dragon? And you
talk of strategy! I have thought much about to-night,--and, Geoffrey,
you must do just the thing that I bid you, and nothing else. Promise."
"I think we'll hear first what your wisdom is," said he, shaking his
head like the sage youth that he was.
"Promise!" she repeated, "else I go away at once, and leave you. Now!
One--two--thrrr----"
"I promise!" he shouted.
"'Sh! Papa's window is just round the tower. Now, sir, you must go
over yonder within those trees."
"Where?"
"There where the snow has dipped the branches low down. And leave me
alone in the cellar with the Dragon."
"With the Dragon? Alone? I did not know you counted me a lunatic,"
replied Geoffrey. Then, after a look over the fields where the storm
was swirling, he gave attention to the point of his sword.
"Where's your promise?" said she. "Will you break your word so soon?"
A big gust of wind flung the snow sharp against their faces.
"Did you expect----" began the young knight, and then said some words
that I suppose gentlemen in those old times were more prone to use
before ladies than they are to-day. Which shows the optimists are
right.
Then, still distant, but not so distant, came another roar.
"Geoffrey!" Elaine said, laying a hand upon his arm; "indeed, you must
hear me now, and make no delay with contrary notions. There is no
danger for me. Look. He will first be by himself to clear the way of
watchers. No one peeps out of windows when the Dragon's howling. Next,
the rest will come and all go into papa's cellar for the wine. But we
must get these others away, and that's for you." She paused.
"Well? Well?" he said.
"It will go thus: the passage shall hide me, and the door of it be
shut. You'll watch over by the trees, and when you see all have come
inside here, make some sort of noise at the edge of the wood."
"What sort of noise?"
"Oh,--not as if you suspected. Seem to be passing by. Play you are a
villager going home late. When they hear that, they'll run away for
fear of their secret. The Dragon will surely stay behind."
"Why will he stay behind? Why will they run away?"
"Dear Geoffrey, don't you see that if these men were to be seen in
company with the Dragon by one who till now knew them as monks, where
would their living be gone to? Of course, they will get themselves out
of sight, and the Dragon will remain as a sort of human scarecrow.
Then I'll come out from the passage-door."
"One would almost think you desired that villain to kill you," said
Geoffrey. "No, indeed. I'll not consent to that part."
"How shall he kill me here?" Elaine replied. "Do you not see the
Dragon of Wantley would have to carry a maiden away? He would not dare
to put me to the sword. When I come, I shall speak three words to him.
Before there is time for him to think what to do, you will hear me say
(for you must have now run up from the wood) 'the legend has come
true!' Then, when I tell him that, do you walk in ready with your
sword to keep him polite. Oh, indeed," said the lady, with her eyes
sparkling on Geoffrey, "we must keep his manners good for him. For I
think he's one of those persons who might turn out very rude in a
trying situation."
All this was far from pleasing to young Geoffrey. But Elaine showed
him how no other way was to be found by which Sir Francis could be
trapped red-handed and distant from help. While the knight was bending
his brows down with trying to set his thoughts into some order that
should work out a better device, a glare shone over the next hill
against the falling flakes.
"Quick!" said Elaine.
She withdrew into the cellar on the instant, and the great door closed
between them. Geoffrey stood looking at it very anxiously, and then
walked backwards, keeping close to the walls, and so round the tower
and into the court, whence he turned and ploughed as fast as he could
through the deep drifts till he was inside the trees. "If they spy my
steps," he thought, "it will seem as though some one of the house had
gone in there to secure the door."
Once more the glare flashed against the swiftly-descending curtains of
the storm. Slowly it approached, sometimes illuminating a tree-trunk
for a moment, then suddenly gleaming on the white mounds where rocks
lay deeply cloaked.
"He is pretty slow," said Geoffrey, shifting the leg he was leaning
on.
[Illustration: The Dragon thinketh to slake his thirst]
A black mass moved into sight, and from it came spoutings of fire that
showed dark, jagged wings heavily flapping. It walked a little and
stopped; then walked again. Geoffrey could see a great snout and head
rocking and turning. Dismal and unspeakable sounds proceeded from the
creature as it made towards the cellar-door. After it had got close
and leaned against the panels in a toppling, swaying fashion, came a
noise of creaking and fumbling, and then the door rolled aside upon
its hinges. Next, the blurred white ridge towards Oyster-le-Main was
darkened with moving specks that came steadily near; and man by man of
the Guild reached the open door crouching, whispered a word or two,
and crept inside. They made no sound that could be heard above the
hissing of the downward flakes and the wind that moaned always, but
louder sometimes. Only Elaine, with her ear to the cold iron key-hole
of the passage-door, could mark the clink of armour, and shivered as
she stood in the dark. And now the cellar is full,--but not of gray
gowns. The candle flames show little glistening sparks in the black
coats of mail, and the sight of themselves cased in steel, and each
bearing an empty keg, stirred a laughter among them. Then the kegs
were set down without noise on the earthy floor among the bins. The
Dragon was standing on his crooked scaly hind-legs; and to see the
grim, changeless jaw and eyes brought a dead feeling around the
heart. But the two bungling fore-paws moved upwards, shaking like a
machine, and out of a slit in the hide came two white hands that
lifted to one side the brown knarled mask of the crocodile. There was
the black head of Sir Francis Almoign. "'Tis hot in there," he said;
and with two fingers he slung the drops of sweat from his forehead.
"Wet thy whistle before we begin," said Hubert, filling a jug for him.
Sir Francis took it in both hands, and then clutched it tightly as a
sudden singing was set up out in the night.
"Come, take a wife,
Come, take a wife,
Ere thou learnest age's treasons!"
The tune came clear and jolly, cutting through the muffled noises of
the tempest.
"Blood and death!" muttered Hubert.
Each figure had sprung into a stiff position of listening.
"Quit thy roving;
Shalt by loving
Not wax lean in stormy seasons.
Ho! ho! oh,--ho!
Not wax lean in----"
Here the strain snapped off short. Then a whining voice said, "Oh, I
have fallen again! A curse on these roots. Lucifer fell only once, and
'twas enough for him. I have looked on the wine when it was red, and
my dame Jeanie will know it soon, oh, soon! But my sober curse on
these roots."
"That's nothing," said Hubert. "There's a band of Christmas singers
has strolled into these parts to chant carols. One of them has stopped
too long at the tavern."
"Do I see a light?" said the voice. "Help! Give me a light, and let me
go home.
"Quit thy roving;
Shalt by loving----"
"Shall I open his throat, that he may sing the next verse in heaven?"
Hubert inquired.
"No, fool!" said Sir Francis. "Who knows if his brother sots are not
behind him to wake the house? This is too dangerous to-night. Away
with you, every one. Stoop low till ye are well among the fields, and
then to Oyster-le-Main! I'll be Dragon for a while, and follow
after."
Quickly catching up his keg, each man left the cellar like a shadow.
Geoffrey, from the edge of the wood, saw them come out and dissolve
away into the night. With the tube of the torch at his lips, Sir
Francis blew a blast of fire out at the door, then covered his head
once more with the grinning crocodile. He roared twice, and heard
something creak behind him, so turned to see what had made it. There
was Miss Elaine on the passage-steps. Her lips moved to speak, but for
a short instant fear put a silence upon her that she found no voice to
break. He, with a notion she was there for the sake of the legend,
waved his great paws and trundled towards where she was standing.
"Do not forget to roar, sir," said the young lady, managing her voice
so there was scarce any tremble to be heard in it.
At this the Dragon stood still.
"You perceive," she said to him, "after all, a dragon, like a mouse,
comes to the trap."
"Not quite yet," cried Sir Francis, in a terrible voice, and rushed
upon her, meaning death.
"The legend has come true!" she loudly said.
A gleaming shaft of steel whistled across the sight of Sir Francis.
"Halt there!" thundered Geoffrey, leaping between the two, and posing
his sword for a lunge.
"My hour has come," Sir Francis thought. For he was cased in the stiff
hide, and could do nothing in defence.
"Now shalt thou lick the earth with thy lying tongue," said Geoffrey.
A sneer came through the gaping teeth of the crocodile.
"Valiant, indeed!" the voice said. "Very valiant and knightly, oh son
of Bertram of Poictiers! Frenchmen know when to be bold. Ha! ha!"
"Crawl out of that nut, thou maggot," answered Geoffrey, "and taste
thy doom."
Here was a chance, the gift of a fool. The two white hands appeared
and shifted the mask aside, letting them see a cunning hope on his
face.
"Do not go further, sir," said Elaine. "It is for the good of us all
that you abide where you are. As I shall explain."
"What is this, Elaine?" said Geoffrey.
"Your promise!" she answered, lifting a finger at him.
There was a dry crack from the crocodile's hide.
"Villain!" cried Geoffrey, seizing the half-extricated body by the
throat. "Thy false skin is honester than thyself, and warned us. Back
inside!"
The robber's eyes shrivelled to the size of a snake's, as, with no
tenderness, the youth grappled with him still entangled, and with
hands, feet, and knees drove him into his shell as a hasty traveller
tramples his effects into a packing-case.
"See," said Elaine, "how pleasantly we two have you at our disposal.
Shall the neighbours be called to have a sight of the Dragon?"
"What do you want with me?" said Sir Francis, quietly. For he was a
philosopher.
"In the first place," answered Geoffrey, "know that thou art caught.
And if I shall spare thee this night, it may well be they'll set thy
carcase swinging on the gallows-tree to-morrow morning,--or, being
Christmas, the day after."
"I can see my case without thy help," Sir Francis replied. "What
next?"
At this, Elaine came to Geoffrey and they whispered together.
[Illustration: The Dragon perceiueth hymself to be entrapped]
"Thy trade is done for," said the youth, at length. "There'll be no
more monks of Oyster-le-Main, and no more Dragon of Wantley. But thou
and the other curs may live, if ye so choose."
"Through what do I buy my choice?"
"Through a further exhibition of thine art. Thou must play Dragon
to-night once again for the last time. This, that I may show thee
captive to Sir Godfrey Disseisin."
"And in chains, I think," added Elaine. "There is one behind the
post." It had belonged in the bear-pit during the lives of Orlando
Crumb and Furioso Bun, two bears trapped expressly for the Baron near
Roncevaux.
"After which?" inquired Sir Francis.
"Thou shalt go free, and I will claim this lady's hand from her
father, who promised her to any man that brought the Dragon to him
dead or alive."
"Papa shall be kept at a distance from you," said Elaine, "and will
never suspect in this dimness, if you roar at him thoroughly."
"Then," continued Geoffrey, "I shall lead thee away as my spoil, and
the people shall see the lizard-skin after a little while. But thou
must journey far from Wantley, and never show face again."
"And go from Oyster-le-Main and the tithings?" exclaimed Sir Francis.
"My house and my sustenance?"
"Sustain thyself elsewhere," said Geoffrey; "I care not how."
"No!" said Sir Francis. "I'll not do this."
"Then we call Sir Godfrey. The Baron will not love thee very much,
seeing how well he loves his Burgundy thou hast drank. Thou gavest him
sermons on cold spring-water. He'll remember that. I think thou'lt be
soon hanging. So choose."
The Knight of the Voracious Stomach was silent.
"This is a pretty scheme thou hast," he presently said. "And not thine
own. She has taught thee this wit, I'll be bound. Mated to her,
thou'lt prosper, I fear."
"Come, thy choice," said Geoffrey, sternly.
A sour smile moved the lips of Sir Francis. "Well," he said, "it has
been good while it lasted. Yes, I consent. Our interests lie together.
See how Necessity is the mother of Friendship, also."
The mask was drawn over his face, and they wound the chain about the
great body.
"There must be sounds of fighting," said Elaine. "Make them when I am
gone into the house."
"If I had strangled thee in thy prison, which was in my mind," said
the voice of the hidden speaker, "this folly we--but there. Let it go,
and begin."
Then they fell to making a wonderful disturbance. The Dragon's voice
was lifted in horrid howlings; and the young knight continually bawled
with all his lungs. They chased as children in a game do: forward,
back, and across to nowhere, knocking the barrels, clanking and
clashing, up between the rows and around corners; and the dry earth
was ground under their feet and swept from the floor upward in a fine
floating yellow powder that they sucked down into their windpipes,
while still they hustled and jangled and banged and coughed and grew
dripping wet, so the dust and the water mingled and ran black streams
along their bodies from the neck downwards, tickling their backs and
stomachs mightily. When the breath was no longer inside them, they
stopped to listen.
The house was stone still, and no noise came, save always the wind's
same cheerless blowing.
"How much more of this before they will awaken?" exclaimed Geoffrey,
in indignation. "'Tis a scandal people should sleep so."
"They are saying their prayers," said Sir Francis.
"It is a pity thou art such a miscreant," Geoffrey said, heartily;
"otherwise I could sweat myself into a good-humour with thee."
But Sir Francis replied with coldness, "It is easy for the upper hand
to laugh."
"We must at it again," said Geoffrey; "and this time I will let them
hear thou art conquered." The din and hubbub recommenced. And
Mistletoe could hear it where she quaked inside her closet holding the
door with both hands. And the Baron could hear it. He was locked in
the bath-room, dreadfully sorry he had not gone to the Crusade. Quite
unknowingly in his alarm he had laid hold of a cord that set going the
shower-bath; but he gave no heed at all to this trifle. And every man
and woman in the house heard the riot, from the scullion up through
the cook to Popham, who had unstrapped his calves before retiring, so
that now his lean shanks knocked together like hockey-sticks. Little
Whelpdale, freezing in his shirt-tail under the bed, was crying
piteously upon all Saints to forget about his sins and deliver him.
Only Miss Elaine standing in her room listened with calm; and she with
not much, being on the threshold of a chance that might turn untoward
so readily. Presently a victorious shouting came from far down through
the dark.
"He is mine!" the voice bellowed. "I have laid him low. The Dragon is
taken." At this she hastened to summon Sir Godfrey.
"Why, where can he be?" she exclaimed, stopping in astonishment at his
room, empty and the door open wide.
Down in the cellar the voice continued to call on all people to come
and see the Dragon of Wantley. Also Elaine heard a splashing and
dripping that sounded in the bath-room. So she ran to the door and
knocked.
"You can't come in!" said the Baron angrily.
"Papa! They've caught the Dragon. Oh why are you taking your bath at
such a time?"
"Taking my grandmother!" Sir Godfrey retorted in great dudgeon. But he
let the rope go, and the shower stopped running. "Go to your room," he
added. "I told you to lock your door. This Dragon----"
"But he's caught, papa," cried Elaine through the key-hole. "Don't you
hear me? Geoff----somebody has got him."
"How now?" said the Baron, unlocking the door and peering out. "What's
all this?"
His dressing-gown was extremely damp, for stray spouts from the
shower-bath had squirted over him. Fortunately, the breast-plate
underneath had kept him dry as far as it went.
"Hum," he said, after he had listened to the voice in the cellar.
"This is something to be cautious over."
"If the people of this house do not come soon to bear witness of my
conquest," said the voice in tones of thunder, "I'll lead this Dragon
through every chamber of it myself."
"Damnum absque injuria!" shrieked Sir Godfrey, and uttered much more
horrible language entirely unfit for general use. "What the Jeofailes
does the varlet mean by threatening an Englishman in his own house? I
should like to know who lives here? I should like to know who I am?"
The Baron flew down the entry in a rage. He ran to his bedside and
pulled his sword from under the pillows where he always kept it at
night with his sun-dial.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
"We shall see who is master of this house," he said. "I am not going
to--does he suppose anybody that pleases can come carting their
dragons through my premises? Get up! Get up! Every one!" he shouted,
hurrying along the hall with the sword in his right hand and a lantern
in his left. His slippers were only half on, so they made a slithering
and slapping over the floor; and his speed was such that the quilted
red dressing-gown filled with the wind and spread behind him till he
looked like a huge new sort of bird or an eccentric balloon. Up and
down in all quarters of the house went Sir Godfrey, pounding against
every shut door. Out they came. Mistletoe from her closet, squeaking.
Whelpdale from under his bed. The Baron allowed him time to put on a
pair of breeches wrong side out. The cook came, and you could hear her
panting all the way down from the attic. Out came the nine house-maids
with hair in curl-papers. The seven footmen followed. Meeson and
Welsby had forgotten their wigs. The coachman and grooms and
stable-boys came in horse-blankets and boots. And last in the
procession, old Popham, one calf securely strapped on, and the other
dangling disgracefully. Breathless they huddled behind the Baron, who
strode to the cellar, where he flung the door open. Over in a corner
was a hideous monster, and every man fell against his neighbour and
shrieked. At which the monster roared most alarmingly, and all fell
together again. Young Geoffrey stood in the middle of the cellar, and
said not a word. One end of a chain was in his hand, and he waited
mighty stiff for the Baron to speak. But when he saw Miss Elaine come
stealing in after the rest so quiet and with her eyes fixed upon him,
his own eyes shone wonderfully.
At the sight of the Dragon, Sir Godfrey forgot his late excitement,
and muttered "Bless my soul!" Then he stared at the beast for some
time.
"Can--can't he do anything?" he inquired.
"No," said Geoffrey shortly; "he can't."
"Not fly up at one, for instance?"
"I have broken his wing," replied the youth.
"I--I'd like to look at him. Never saw one before," said the Baron;
and he took two steps. Then gingerly he moved another step.
"Take care!" Geoffrey cried, with rapid alarm.
The monster moved, and from his nostrils (as it seemed) shot a plume
of flame.
Popham clutched the cook, and the nine house-maids sank instantly into
the arms of the seven footmen without the slightest regard to how
unsatisfactorily nine goes into seven.
"Good heavens!" said the Baron, getting behind a hogshead, "what a
brute!"
"Perhaps it might be useful if I excommunicated him," said the Rev.
Hucbald, who had come in rather late, with his clerical frock-coat
buttoned over his pyjamas.
"Pooh!" said the Baron. "As if he'd care for that."
"Very few men can handle a dragon," said Geoffrey, unconcernedly, and
stroked his upper lip, where a kindly-disposed person might see there
was going to be a moustache some day.
"I don't know exactly what you mean to imply by that, young man," said
the Baron, coming out from behind the hogshead and puffing somewhat
pompously.
"Why, zounds!" he exclaimed, "I left you locked up this afternoon,
and securely. How came you here?"
Geoffrey coughed, for it was an awkward inquiry.
"Answer me without so much throat-clearing," said the Baron.
"I'll clear my throat as it pleases me," replied Geoffrey hotly. "How
I came here is no affair of yours that I can see. But ask Father
Anselm himself, and he will tell you." This was a happy thought, and
the youth threw a look at the Dragon, who nodded slightly. "I have a
question to ask you, sir," Geoffrey continued, taking a tone and
manner more polite. Then he pointed to the Dragon with his sword, and
was silent.
"Well?" said Sir Godfrey, "don't keep me waiting."
"I fear your memory's short, sir. By your word proclaimed this morning
the man who brought you this Dragon should have your daughter to wife
if she--if she----"
"Ha!" said the Baron. "To be sure. Though it was hasty. Hum! Had I
foreseen the matter would be so immediately settled--she's a great
prize for any lad--and you're not hurt either. One should be hurt for
such a reward. You seem entirely sound of limb and without a scratch.
A great prize."
"There's the Dragon," replied Geoffrey, "and here am I."
Now Sir Godfrey was an honourable man. When he once had given his
word, you could hold him to it. That is very uncommon to-day,
particularly in the matter of contracts. He gathered his dressing-gown
about him, and looked every inch a parent. "Elaine," he said, "my
dear?"
"Oh, papa!" murmured that young woman in a die-away voice.
Geoffrey had just time to see the look in her brown eye as she turned
her head away. And his senses reeled blissfully, and his brain blew
out like a candle, and he ceased to be a man who could utter speech.
He stood stock-still with his gaze fixed upon Elaine. The nine
house-maids looked at the young couple with many sympathetic though
respectful sighings, and the seven footmen looked comprehensively at
the nine house-maids.
Sir Godfrey smiled, and very kindly. "Ah, well," he said, "once I--but
tush! You're a brave lad, and I knew your father well. I'll consent,
of course. But if you don't mind, I'll give you rather a quick
blessing this evening. 'Tis growing colder. Come here, Elaine. Come
here, sir. There! Now, I hate delay in these matters. You shall be
married to-morrow. Hey? What? You don't object, I suppose? Then why
did you jump? To-morrow, Christmas Day, and every church-bell in the
county shall ring three times more than usual. Once for the holy
Feast, and may the Lord bless it always! and once for my girl's
wedding. And once for the death and destruction of the Dragon of
Wantley."
"Hurrah!" said the united household.
"We'll have a nuptials that shall be the talk of our grandchildren's
children, and after them. We'll have all the people to see. And we'll
build the biggest pile of fagots that can be cut from my timber, and
the Dragon shall be chained on the top of it, and we'll cremate him
like an Ancient,--only alive! We'll cremate the monster alive!"
Elaine jumped. Geoffrey jumped. The chain round the Dragon loudly
clanked.
"Why--do you not find this a pleasant plan?" asked the Baron,
surprised.
"It seems to me, sir," stuttered Geoffrey, beating his brains for
every next word, "it seems to me a monstrous pity to destroy this
Dragon so. He is a rare curiosity."
"Did you expect me to clap him in a box-stall and feed him?" inquired
the Baron with scorn.
"Why, no, sir. But since it is I who have tracked, stalked, and taken
him with the help of no other huntsman," said Geoffrey, "I make bold
to think the laws of sport vest the title to him in me."
"No such thing," said Sir Godfrey. "You have captured him in my
cellar. I know a little law, I hope."
"The law about wild beasts in Poictiers----" Geoffrey began.
"What care I for your knavish and perverted foreign legalities over
the sea?" snorted Sir Godfrey. "This is England. And our Common Law
says you have trespassed."
"My dear sir," said Geoffrey, "this wild beast came into your premises
after I had marked him."
"Don't dear sir me!" shouted the Baron. "Will you hear the law for
what I say? I tell you this Dragon's my dragon. Don't I remember how
trespass was brought against Ralph de Coventry, over in Warwickshire?
Who did no more than you have done. And they held him. And there it
was but a little pheasant his hawk had chased into another's
warren--and you've chased a dragon, so the offence is greater."
"But if--" remonstrated the youth, "if a fox----"
"Fox me no foxes! Here is the case of Ralph de Coventry," replied Sir
Godfrey, looking learned, and seating himself on a barrel of beer.
"Ralph pleaded before the Judge saying, 'et nous lessamus nostre
faucon voler a luy, et il le pursuy en le garrein,'--'tis just your
position, only 'twas you that pursued and not your falcon, which does
not in the least distinguish the cases."
"But," said Geoffrey again, "the Dragon started not on your premises."
"No matter for that; for you have pursued him into my warren, that is,
my cellar, my enclosed cellar, where you had no business to be. And
the Court told Ralph no matter 'que le feisant leva hors de le
garrein, vostre faucon luy pursuy en le garrein.' So there's good
sound English law, and none of your foppish outlandishries in Latin,"
finished the Baron, vastly delighted at being able to display the
little learning that he had. For you see, very few gentlemen in those
benighted days knew how to speak the beautiful language of the law so
fluently as that.
"And besides," continued Sir Godfrey suddenly, "there is a contract."
"What contract?" asked Geoffrey.
"A good and valid one. When I said this morning that I would give my
daughter to the man who brought me the Dragon alive or dead, did I say
I would give him the Dragon too? So choose which you will take, for
both you cannot have."
At this Elaine turned pale as death, and Geoffrey stood dumb.
Had anybody looked at the Dragon, it was easy to see the beast was
much agitated.
"Choose!" said Sir Godfrey. "'Tis getting too cold to stay here. What?
You hesitate between my daughter and a miserable reptile? I thought
the lads of France were more gallant. Come, sir! which shall it be?
The lady or the Dragon?"
"Well," said Geoffrey, and his blood and heart stood still (and so did
Elaine's, and so did another person's), "I--I--think I will choose the
l--lady."
"Hurrah!" cheered the household once more.
"Oh, Lord!" said the Dragon, but nobody heard him.
"Indeed!" observed Sir Godfrey. "And now we'll chain him in my
bear-pit till morning, and at noon he shall be burned alive by the
blazing fagots. Let us get some sleep now."
The cloud of slimly-clad domestics departed with slow steps, and many
a look of fear cast backward at the captured monster.
"This Dragon, sir," said Geoffrey, wondering at his own voice, "will
die of thirst in that pit. Bethink you how deep is his habit of
drinking."
"Ha! I have often bethought me," retorted Sir Godfrey, rolling his
eyes over the empty barrels. "But here! I am a man of some heart, I
hope."
He seized up a bucket and ran to the hogshead containing his
daughter's native cowslip wine.
"There!" he observed when the bucket was pretty well filled. "Put that
in to moisten his last hours."
Then the Baron led the way round the Manor to the court-yard where the
bear-pit was. His daughter kept pace with him not easily, for the
excellent gentleman desired to be a decent distance away from the
Dragon, whom young Geoffrey dragged along in the rear.
[Illustration: HVCKBALD BELIEVES HE WILL TAKE JVST A LITTLE SIP]