Then, why, asked some, had the river not done his duty? The more rigid logicians answered that neither was the river a god. But this doctrine was not well received. People felt they had gone quite far enough as it was. Besides, now was a time rather for action than for thought. Some of those who were skilled in hunting went to fetch their arrows and spears, formed a sort of army, and marched round and round the lower slopes of the hill in readiness to withstand and slay the dragon so soon as he should come down into the open. At first this had a cheering and heartening effect (on all but Thol, whose personal aspiration you remember). But soon there recurred to the minds of many, and were repeated broadcast, other words that had been spoken by wanderers. ‘So hard,’ had said one, ‘are the scales of a crawling dragon that no spear can prick him, howsoever sharp and heavy and strongly hurled.’ And another had grimly said, ‘Young is that dragon who is not older than the oldest man.’ And another, ‘A crawling dragon is not baulked but by the swiftness of men’s heels.’ All this was most depressing. Confidence in the spearmen was badly shaken. The applause for them whenever they passed by was quieter, betokening rather pity than hope. Nay, there were people who now deprecated any attempt to kill the dragon. The dragon, they argued, must not be angered. If he were not mistreated he might do no harm. He had a right to exist. He had visited Gra’s cave in a friendly spirit, but Gra had tried to mistreat him, and the result should be a lesson to them all. Others said, more acceptably, ‘Let us think not of the dragon. What the spearmen can do, that will they do. Let this day be as other days, and each man to the task that is his.’ Brud was one of those who hurried away gladly. Nor was Thol loth to follow. The chance that the dragon might come out in his absence did not worry a boy so unprepared to-day for single combat; and if other hands than his were to succeed in slaying the dragon, he would liefer not have the bitterness of looking on. Thia also detached herself from the throng. Many voices of men and women and children called after her, bidding her stay. ‘I would find me some task,’ she answered. ‘O Thia,’ said one, ‘find only flowers for your hair. And sing to us, dance for us. Let this day be as other days.’ And so pleaded many voices. But Thia answered them, ‘My heart is too sad. We are all in peril. For myself I am not afraid. But how should I dance, who love you? Not again, O dear ones, shall I dance, until the dragon be slain or gone back across the water. Neither shall I put flowers in my hair nor sing.’ She went her way, and was presently guiding a flock of geese to a pond that does not exist now. * * * * *