glad that Lucy was not
there to interfere.

'There's lots of different ways,' said Mr. Perrin. 'Your particular
way's simple. You just got to kill the dragon.'

'A _live_ dragon?'

'Live!' said Mr. Perrin. 'Why he's all over the place and as green as
grass he is. Lively as a kitten. He's got a broken spear sticking out of
his side, so some one must have had a try at baggin' him, some time or
another.'

'Don't you think,' said Philip, a little overcome by this vivid picture,
'that perhaps I'd better look for Lucy first, and be a Deliverer
afterwards?'

'If you're _afraid_,' said Mr. Perrin.

'I'm not,' said Philip doubtfully.

'You see,' said the carpenter, 'what you've got to consider is: are you
going to be the hero of this 'ere adventure or ain't you? You can't 'ave
it both ways. An' if you are, you may's well make up your mind, cause
killing a dragon ain't the end of it, not by no means.'

'Do you mean there are more dragons?'

'Not dragons,' said the carpenter soothingly; 'not dragons exactly. But
there. I don't want to lower your heart. If you kills the dragon, then
afterwards there's six more hard things you've got to do. And then they
make you king. Take it or leave it. Only, if you take it we'd best be
starting. And anyhow we may as well get a move on us, because at sundown
the dragon comes out to drink and exercise of himself. You can hear him
rattling all night among these 'ere ruins; miles off you can 'ear 'im
of a still night.'

'Suppose I don't want to be a Deliverer,' said Philip slowly.

'Then you'll be a Destroyer,' said the carpenter; 'there's only these
two situations vacant here at present. Come, Master Philip, sir, don't
talk as if you wasn't going to be a man and do your duty for England,
Home and Beauty, like it says in the song. Let's be starting, shall us?'

'You think I ought to be the Deliverer?'

'Ought stands for nothing,' said Mr. Perrin. 'I think you're a going to
_be_ the Deliverer; that's what I think. Come on!'

As they rose to go, Philip had a brief fleeting vision of a very smart
lady in a motor veil, disappearing round the corner of a pillar.

'Are there many motors about here?' he asked, not wishing to talk any
more about dragons just then.

'Not a single one,' said Mr. Perrin unexpectedly. 'Nor yet phonographs,
nor railways, nor factory chimneys, nor none of them loud ugly things.
Nor yet advertisements, nor newspapers, nor barbed wire.'

After that the two wa