T
THERE lived in a marsh near a certain village, a red dragon which terrorized all the people round about; so the king of the country offered a great reward to any one who would kill the frightful beast.
A great many knights of the king’s army went out one after the other to slay it, and each came back with a wonderful tale of how he had fought with the dragon; and, after wounding it, had given up the fight only for fear of being slain by the monster.
“Never mind; you will have better success next time,” the kind king would say to each defeated knight. Then he would give him a valuable gift as a reward for his brave effort.
There was among the king’s pages a little boy who was a great butterfly hunter. The king’s librarian paid him a gold piece for every new butterfly he found.
This page was a great favorite of the king, and often rode with him on long journeys. One day when the king stopped in the neighborhood in which the dragon lived, the page boy slipped off with his net to hunt butterflies; and, in chasing a rare specimen, lost his way and wandered into the very swamp where the dragon was roaming about.
When the fierce old dragon saw the boy, he came rushing and roaring at him in a great rage. The frightened boy looked around; there were no trees to climb for safety, and he knew that if he ran he could not escape, for run as he might, the dragon could run still faster.
“Wow,” shrieked the Dragon
“Wow,” shrieked the Dragon
He had nothing with which to fight except his butterfly net. The net was fastened to the end of a long stout stick, and the boy decided to defend himself with this as best he could. When the monster charged down upon him, bellowing fearfully, he raised his stick and thrust it with all his might into the bulging side of the beast.
“Wow!” shrieked the dragon; and with a puff it went up in the air and burst, just as a balloon does when a hole is slashed in its cover.
The fierce old dragon was nothing but skin and air!
When he was sure it was quite dead, the boy grasped the empty dragon skin by its spiked tail, and dragged it back to the castle and showed it to the king. He was the maddest king you ever heard of when he saw the dead dragon lying there, and sent off at once for the bold knights who had pretended to fight it so bravely.
“You old humbugs,” he cried. “There lies the red dragon you bragged so much about fighting. It wasn’t a thing but skin and air. If any one of you had so much as touched it with the point of a sword, it would have gone to pieces, as it did when my brave page boy struck it with his butterfly net.”
The cowardly knights had no word to say. So the king ordered them to give the gifts they had received for fighting the dragon to the page boy, who was then so rich that he was able to buy a castle of his own. When he grew up, he was known as one of the bravest knights of that country.