a marvelous light of its own, that
inestimable prize which so many heroes had longed to behold, but had
perished in the quest of it, either by the perils of their voyage, or by
the fiery breath of the brazen-lunged bulls.

"How gloriously it shines!" cried Jason, in a rapture. "It has surely
been dipped in the richest gold of sunset. Let me hasten onward, and
take it to my bosom."

"Stay," said Medea, holding him back. "Have you forgotten what guards
it?"

To say the truth, in the joy of beholding the object of his desires, the
terrible dragon had quite slipped out of Jason's memory. Soon, however,
something came to pass, that reminded him what perils were still to be
encountered. An antelope, that probably mistook the yellow radiance
for sunrise, came bounding fleetly through the grove. He was rushing
straight towards the Golden Fleece, when suddenly there was a frightful
hiss, and the immense head and half the scaly body of the dragon was
thrust forth (for he was twisted round the trunk of the tree on which
the Fleece hung), and seizing the poor antelope, swallowed him with one
snap of his jaws.

After this feat, the dragon seemed sensible that some other living
creature was within reach, on which he felt inclined to finish his meal.
In various directions he kept poking his ugly snout among the trees,
stretching out his neck a terrible long way, now here, now there, and
now close to the spot where Jason and the princess were hiding behind
an oak. Upon my word, as the head came waving and undulating through the
air, and reaching almost within arm's length of Prince Jason, it was a
very hideous and uncomfortable sight. The gape of his enormous jaws was
nearly as wide as the gateway of the king's palace.

"Well, Jason," whispered Medea (for she was ill natured, as all
enchantresses are, and wanted to make the bold youth tremble), "what do
you think now of your prospect of winning the Golden Fleece?"

Jason answered only by drawing his sword, and making a step forward.

"Stay, foolish youth," said Medea, grasping his arm. "Do not you see you
are lost, without me as your good angel? In this gold box I have a magic
potion, which will do the dragon's business far more effectually than
your sword."

The dragon had probably heard the voices; for swift as lightning, his
black head and forked tongue came hissing among the trees again,
darting full forty feet at a stretch. As it approached, Medea tossed
the contents of