“If there had only been the little fellow’s story,” the old merchant continued, “I don’t think I’d have felt the same way about it. But the ‘Chief Brave’ was not only a plucky sort, but I depended a good deal on his judgment. As I saw it, there was only one thing to do, and that was—to face the monster and find out what could be done. If I could really slay a dragon, I thought, I should go down in history with Siegfried and Beowulf and all the rest of them. So I loaded an old horse pistol that we had, and, more for show than anything else, stuck a bowie knife in my belt and started into the tunnel-like opening of the cave, the gang following cautiously behind. “I tell you, my boy, it was mighty uncomfortable, creeping through that long, black passage, hearing nothing but the hard breathing of the frightened fellows behind. And when, about halfway down, the silence was suddenly broken by a savage, whining snarl, I had a feeling that ice was being rubbed down my spine. It wasn’t quite my idea of a dragon’s roar, it was worse, there was such an evil relish in the sound that the flesh under my hair just crawled. “If I had been alone, I’d have done the same thing as the others did, I’d have turned tail and got out of that place as quickly as I could. But the gang was behind me. I was afraid, afraid to death, of that snarl in front, but the fear of ridicule was even stronger. I would rather be clawed to death by a dragon than be guyed as a coward. So, gripping the pistol closer, I crawled forward. “I think I could have walked with more confidence, but on hands and knees, it was ghastly. I could put my hands out without difficulty, but the fear sent a spasm into my knees so that it was hard to move them. Still, foot by foot, ever hearing that malignant whine grow closer, I groped my way through the opening. It was only fifty feet long, but it seemed interminable. At last I saw the light and, with a huge sense of relief, leaped from the narrow tunnel into the cave itself. “I leaped almost into the monster’s jaws. For, facing the mouth of the tunnel, not six paces away, was the dragon, growling and snapping, while every few seconds he followed the clash of the gnashing teeth with that long whining snarl that had so scared me during that endless crawl in the dark.” “What did he look like, Father?” “In the half-dusk of the cave he looked fearful! In my excitement he looked every inch a dragon. The front part of him was like a wolverine, and his body all glittered with silver scales. Behind him he dragged a thick tail, something like an alligator’s, only round, all covered with shiny scales.” “How about the fire-breathing business?”