As they were going down a narrow glen, Minnie wounded a splendid stag, and the dogs set out in pursuit; while the princess, drawing another arrow from her quiver, hastened after them. Suddenly the dogs set up a simultaneous howl, and rushed out of the thicket. The ladies of the court shrieked aloud. “The worm,” they cried, “the lind-worm! Come back, Lady Minnie, come back!” and at the same moment, turning quickly, they fled across the valley, and took refuge on the top of a neighbouring hill. A frightful hissing, cracking and trampling was heard, and the dragon crept out of the thicket, its jaws wide open, ready to seize its prey. It was a sight to make the bravest man tremble. Princess Minnie shot three arrows, one after the other, straight at the monster; but they glanced harmless off its horny scales. She turned to fly, but her foot caught in a branch, and she fell to the ground. She seemed lost, for the dragon was making ready to spring upon her. Dietwart and his men were close at hand. The latter threw themselves on the worm; while the former took his stand before the girl to defend her. It was a horrible sight. Lances, swords, arrows were no defence. They could not pierce the monster’s scales, and one brave man after another was caught in its claws, or was torn by its terrible teeth, which in shape resembled the anchors of a ship. Dietwart rushed to the assistance of his friends. He struck at the lind-worm’s neck with his lance, but the point slipped from the scales, and the dragon tore his breast with its claws. It opened its great jaws as wide as it could, to seize and devour him; but the hero thrust the shaft of his spear into its gigantic mouth, and worked it round and round with such force that the point came out at the other side. A stream of poison, and flames of fire issued from the creature’s nostrils, and the hero fell fainting to the ground, the dying monster on the top of him. Dietwart was roused from his insensibility by feeling himself violently shaken. When he opened his eyes, he saw the princess struggling to free him from the dragon’s body. Some woodmen came up and helped her. When at last he rose to his feet, he was so weak that he could not stand; and the men made a litter of wattled boughs, on which they carried him to the palace. The wound on his chest was carefully bound up, and no one thought much of it, because the flesh alone had been torn; but it festered badly, and the edges turned black, as though they had been burnt. The doctors declared that some of the dragon’s poisonous breath had touched it, and they feared for the hero’s life. The king, the court, nay the whole country, mourned for the man who had rid them of the monster.