Little wonder that the homelanders also formed that theory! Little wonder that they needed no further proof of it when, deaf to the cries of entreaty that they uttered through the evening air, Thol stood his ground! Slowly, as though to give the wretched young lunatic a chance, the dragon advanced. But quickly, very terribly and quickly, when he was within striking distance, he reared his neck up. An instant later there rang through the valley--there seemed to rend the valley--a single screech, unlike anything that its hearers had ever heard. Those who dared to look saw the vast length of the dragon, neck on grass, coiling slowly round. The tip of the tail met the head and parted from it. Presently the vast length was straight, motionless. Yet even of those who had dared look none dared believe that the dragon was indeed dead. But for its death-cry, Thol himself would hardly have believed. The second firm believer was Thia. Thia, with swift conviction, plucked some flowers and put them loosely into her hair. Thia, singing as well as though she had never ceased to sing, and dancing as prettily as though she had for years been practising her steps, went singing and dancing towards the stream. Lightly she lept the stream, and then very seriously and quietly walked to the spot where Thol stood. She looked up at him, and then, without a word, raised her arms and put her hands upon his shoulders. He, who had slain the dragon, trembled. ‘O Thol,’ she said gently, ‘you turn not away from me, but neither do you raise me from the ground.’ Then Thol raised Thia thrice from the ground. And he said, ‘Let our home be the cave that was my father’s.’ Hand in hand, man and wife, they went up the hill, and round to the eastern side of its summit. But when they came to the mouth of the old cave there, he paused and let go her hand. ‘O Thia,’ he said wonderingly, ‘is it indeed true that you love me?’ ‘O Thol,’ she answered, ‘it is most true.’ ‘O Thia,’ he said, ‘love me always!’ ‘I have long ceased to love you, O Thol,’ she said, five years later, in a low voice. But I see that I have outstripped my narrative. I must hark back. * * * * * The sun had already risen far when Thol and Thia were wakened by a continuous great hum as of many voices. When they looked forth and down from the mouth of their high home, it seemed to them that all the homelanders were there beneath them, gazing up. And this was indeed so. Earlier in the morning, by force of habit, all the homelanders had gone to what we call Berkeley Square, the place where for so many years they had daily besought the sun to call the dragon away across the waters. There, where lay the great smokeless and harmless carcass, was no need for prayers now; and with one accord the throng had moved from the western to the eastern foot of the hill, and stayed there gazing in reverence up to the home of a god greater than the sun.