These venturesome men were thankful to have escaped from the neighborhood without going any nearer the cave; and, from that time, no one had ever been within miles of it. But Gutefundus resolved that these treasures should no longer lie there useless. Mankind should have the benefit of them. Nobody believed he could conquer this dragon. Nobody would accompany him on such a mad enterprise. It did seem like going to certain death. Nevertheless Gutefundus made up his mind to do it. He set out alone. It took him three years to reach the forest that surrounded the mountain, of which he was in search. He had passed through strange countries, and had taken part in many a good fight, but he arrived at the edge of the forest, a day’s journey only from the caverns, well and in good spirits for the fight with the dragon. But here something befell him more wonderful than all he had gone through in his life. Night was approaching, and he looked about for a resting-place. He heard the tinkling sound of a little bell, and bent his steps in that direction. It led him some distance into the forest to a small hut, made of dried mud. A little wooden belfry was built upon this, and the bell was ringing at the close of day. Gutefundus, believing it to be the dwelling of some hermit, entered it to ask for a night’s lodging. There was no one there, and he wondered by what contrivance the bell rang itself. While waiting for the owner to appear, he stretched himself upon a couch of dried moss; and, being very tired, he soon fell asleep. When he awoke, he started up, and looked around in surprise. He was still alone. His clothes were in rags; his feet were bare, for his shoes had fallen to pieces on the floor; the hut had crumbled until it was only a shattered mound; the wooden belfry lay around in broken bits; the little bell was half buried in the dried mud, by his side, and was nearly eaten up with rust. This reminded him of his sword, and he looked anxiously for it. He saw it directly, on the earthen floor close by him. It had, evidently, just fallen out of the scabbard, which, all full of rents, was still attached to his rusty belt. The sword was as bright as ever. He remembered now that it was the clattering it had made in falling that had awakened him. Just then the gleam of something white crossed his eyes. It was his beard, grown very long, and perfectly grey. He was conscious then that his head felt cold. He clapped his hands there, and found he was bald! He understood the whole matter now. He had been in a magic sleep! How many years he had slept he could not guess. Maybe two or three hundred years. Such instances were not so very uncommon. He recalled the names of several great men, who had slept for a hundred years and more. Some of them were sleeping still. It was clear that the dragon was a magician, and had led him into the wood to put him into a magic sleep.