Alphonso,
as jolly as ever, his sword in his hand.

"Hullo, Prigio!" cried he; "are you come after the monster too? I've
been asleep, and I had a kind of dream that he beat me. But the pair of
us will tackle him. How is Molinda?"

"Prettier than ever," said Prigio; "but anxious about you. However,
the Firedrake's dead and done for; so never mind him. But I left Enrico
somewhere about. Just you sit down and wait a minute, till I fetch him."

The prince said this, because he did not wish Alphonso to know that
he and Enrico had not had quite the best of it in the affair with the
monster.

"All right, old fellow," says Alphonso; "but have you any luncheon with
you? Never was so hungry in my life!"

Prince Prigio had thought of this, and he brought out some cold sausage
(to which Alphonso was partial) and some bread, with which the younger
prince expressed himself satisfied. Then Prigio went up the hill some
way, first warning Alphonso _not_ to sit on his carpet for fear of
_accidents_ like that which happened to Benson. In a hollow of the hill,
sure enough there was the sword of Enrico, the diamonds of the hilt
gleaming in the sun. And there was a little heap of grey ashes.

The prince poured a few drops of the water from the Fountain of Lions on
them, and up, of course, jumped Enrico, just as Alphonso had done.

"Sleepy old chap you are, Enrico," said the prince; "but come on,
Alphonso will have finished the grub unless we look smart."

So back they came, in time to get their share of what was going; and
they drank the Remora's very good health, when Prigio told them about
the fight. But neither of them ever knew that they had been dead
and done for; because Prigio invented a story that the mountain was
enchanted, and that, as long as the Firedrake lived, everyone who came
there fell asleep. He did tell them about the flying carpet, however,
which of course did not much surprise them, because they had read all
about it in the _Arabian Nights_ and other historical works.

"And now I 'll show you fun!" said Prigio; and he asked them both to
take their seats on the carpet, and wished to be in the valley of the
Remora.

There they were in a moment, among the old knights whom, if you
remember, the Remora had frozen into stone. There was quite a troop of
them, in all sorts of armour--Greek and Roman, and Knight Templars like
Front' de Bouf and Brian du Bois Gilbert--all the brave warriors that
had tried to fight the