Coronel laughed. There are adventures and adventures; to sit next to a very beautiful Princess and discuss with her the good looks of another man was not the sort of adventure that Coronel was looking for. He tossed the remainder of his pebbles into the stream and stood up. "Of course, if your Royal Highness wishes----" "Don't be a fool, Coronel," said his Royal Highness, rather snappily. "Well, then, I'll come with my good friend Udo if he wants me." "I do want you." "Very well, that settles it. After all," he added to himself, "there may be _two_ dragons." Two dragons would be one each. But from all accounts there were not two Princesses. * * * * * So three days later the friends set out with good hearts upon the adventure. The messenger had been sent back to announce their arrival; they gave him three days' start, and hoped to gain two days upon him. In the simple fashion of those times (so it would seem from Roger Scurvilegs) they set out with no luggage and no clear idea of where they were going to sleep at night. This, after all, is the best spirit in which to start a journey. It is the Gladstone bag which has killed romance. They started on a perfect summer day, and they rode past towers and battlements, and by the side of sparkling streams, and came out into the sunlight again above sleepy villages, and, as they rode, Coronel sang aloud and Udo tossed his sword into the air and caught it again. As evening fell they came to a woodman's cottage at the foot of a high hill, and there they decided to rest for the night. An old woman came out to welcome them. "Good evening, your Royal Highness," she said. [Illustration: _As evening fell they came to a woodman's cottage at the foot of a high hill_] "You know me?" said Udo, more pleased than surprised. "I know all who come into my house," said the old woman solemnly, "and all who go away from it." This sort of conversation made Coronel feel creepy. There seemed to be a distinction between the people who came to the house and the people who went away from it which he did not like. "Can we stay here the night, my good woman?" said Udo. "You have hurt your hand," she said, taking no notice of his question. "It's nothing," said Udo hastily. On one occasion he had caught his sword by the sharp end by mistake--a foolish thing to have done. "Ah, well, since you won't want hands where you're going, it won't matter much." It was the sort of thing old women said in those days, and Udo did not pay much attention to it. "Yes, yes," he said; "but can you give my friend and myself a bed for to-night?" "Seeing that you won't be travelling together long, come in and welcome." She opened the door and they followed her in. As they crossed the threshold, Udo half turned round and whispered over his shoulder to Coronel, "Probably a fairy. Be kind to her." "How can one be kind to one's hostess?" said Coronel. "It's she who has to be kind to _us_."