not worth mending. At length
his patience began to give way, and as he undressed one night he said to
himself: 'Well, I will give it one more chance; and if I don't catch a
fish to-morrow, I will go and hang myself.'

He had not cast his line for ten minutes the next morning before he drew
from the river the most beautiful fish he had ever seen in his life.
But he nearly fell into the water from surprise, when the fish began to
speak to him, in a small, squeaky voice:

'Take me back to your hut and cook me; then cut me up, and sprinkle me
over with pepper and salt. Give two of the pieces to your wife, and bury
two more in the garden.'

The cobbler did not know what to make of these strange words; but he was
wiser than many people, and when he did not understand, he thought it
was well to obey. His children wanted to eat all the fish themselves,
and begged their father to tell them what to do with the pieces he
had put aside; but the cobbler only laughed, and told them it was no
business of theirs. And when they were safe in bed he stole out and
buried the two pieces in the garden.

By and by two babies, exactly alike, lay in a cradle, and in the garden
were two tall plants, with two brilliant shields on the top.

Years passed away, and the babies were almost men. They were tired of
living quietly at home, being mistaken for each other by everybody
they saw, and determined to set off in different directions, to seek
adventures.

So, one fine morning, the two brothers left the hut, and walked together
to the place where the great road divided. There they embraced and
parted, promising that if anything remarkable had happened to either, he
would return to the cross roads and wait till his brother came.

The youth who took the path that ran eastwards arrived presently at a
large city, where he found everybody standing at the doors, wringing
their hands and weeping bitterly.

'What is the matter?' asked he, pausing and looking round. And a man
replied, in a faltering voice, that each year a beautiful girl was
chosen by lot to be offered up to a dreadful fiery dragon, who had a
mother even worse than himself, and this year the lot had fallen on
their peerless princess.

'But where IS the princess?' said the young man once more, and again the
man answered him: 'She is standing under a tree, a mile away, waiting
for the dragon.'

This time the Knight of the Fish did not stop to hear more, but ran
off as fast as he