Fistycuff.

With Ascalon's bright point kept well before him, he drove directly at
the breast of the monster. The sword struck him under the wing; through
the thick flesh it went, and nothing stopped it till it pierced the
monster's heart. Uttering a loud groan, which resounded through the
neighbouring woods and mountains, and made even the wild beasts tremble
with consternation, the furious green dragon fell over on its side, when
Saint George, drawing his falchion from the wound, dashed on over the
prostrate form of the monster, and, ere it could rise to revenge itself
on its destroyer, with many a blow he severed the head from the body.
So vast was the stream which flowed forth from the wound that the whole
valley speedily became a lake of blood, and the river which ran down
from it first gave notice, by its sanguineous hue, to the inhabitants of
the neighbouring districts that the noble Champion of England had slain
their long tormenting enemy.

The victorious Knight now refreshed himself and his steed with a couple
of the oranges which De Fistycuff brought him, and which completely
restored them to the vigour with which they began the combat. He then
stuck the huge head of the once terrific dragon on a truncheon, which
was formed by his faithful Squire out of the handle of the spear, the
head of which had been shivered against the scaly sides of the monster
at the commencement of the combat.

Having delivered the trophy of his prowess to De Fistycuff, to be borne
before him, he rode on towards the capital of the kingdom, where he
expected to be welcomed by the lovely Sabra, to be received by the
sovereign and his people as a conqueror, to have heard all the bells in
the empire ringing, and to have seen every house illuminated, and
bonfires blazing in every street. He had to learn the bitter lesson
that success frequently only creates enemies and detractors.

Now, there was residing at the court of King Battabolo, the sovereign of
Bagabornabou, Almidor, the black King of Morocco, who had long in vain
sought the hand of the Princess Sabra. For many reasons she could not
abide him; and now, when he heard of the successful combat of Saint
George with the dragon, he knew that he should have less chance than
ever of winning her love. With baseness unparalleled he resolved to
make one desperate effort to gain her. Accordingly, he, by the most
extensive promises, engaged the services of twelve warriors of renown