sted it than he felt his strength revive, and
leaping to his feet, he gave the remainder of it to his trusty steed, on
whose back instantly mounting, he stood prepared, with his famous sword
Ascalon in his hand, to receive the furious charge which the dragon was
about to make.

Though his spear had failed him at a pinch, his trusty falchion was true
as ever; and making his horse spring forward, he struck the monster such
a blow on his golden-coloured breast that the point entered between the
scales, inflicting a wound which made it roar with pain and rage.

Slight, however, was the advantage which the Knight thereby gained, for
there issued forth from the wound so copious a stream of black gore,
with an odour so terrible, that it drove him back, almost drowning him
and his brave steed, while the noxious fumes, entering their nostrils,
brought them both fainting and helpless to the ground.

De Fistycuff, mindful of his master's commands, narrowly eyed the
dragon, to see what he was about to do. Staunching his wound with a
touch of his fiery tail, he flapped his green wings, roaring hoarsely,
and shook his vast body, preparatory to another attack on the Knight.

"Is that it?" cried the Squire; and running to the orange-tree, whence
he plucked a couple of the golden fruit, he poured the juice of one down
the throat of his master, and of the other down that of Bayard. Both
revived in an instant, and Saint George, springing on Bayard's back,
felt as fresh and ready for the fight as ever. Both had learned the
importance of avoiding the dragon's tail, and when he whisked it on one
side Bayard sprang to the other, and so on backwards and forwards,
nimbly avoiding the blows aimed by the venomous instrument at him or his
rider.

Again and again the dragon reared itself up, attempting to drop down and
crush his gallant assailant; but Bayard, with wonderful sagacity
comprehending exactly what was to be done, sprung backwards or aside
each time the monster descended, and thus avoided the threatened
catastrophe. Still the dragon appeared as able as ever to endure the
combat. Saint George saw that a strenuous effort must be made, and
taking a fresh grasp of Ascalon, he spurred onward to meet the monster,
who once more advanced, with outstretched wings, with the full purpose
of destroying him. This time Saint George kept his spurs in the horse's
flanks. "Death or victory must be the result of this charge," he
shouted to De