"
The little boy did cry, and said: "Oh, no, my little bull-calf; I hope
he won't kill you."
"Yes, he will," said the little bull-calf, "so you climb up that tree,
so that no one can come nigh you but the monkeys, and if they come the
cheese crud will save you. And when I'm killed, the dragon will go away
for a bit, then you must come down the tree and skin me, and take out my
bladder and blow it out, and it will kill everything you hit with it. So
when the fiery dragon comes back, you hit it with my bladder and cut its
tongue out."
(We know there were fiery dragons in those days, like George and his
dragon in the legend; but, there! it's not the same world nowadays. The
world is turned topsy-turvy since then, like as if you'd turn it over
with a spade!)
Of course, he did all the little bull-calf told him. He climbed up the
tree, and the monkeys climbed up the tree after him. But he held the
cheese crud in his hand, and said: "I'll squeeze your heart like the
flint-stone.
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