the life of him. And suddenly, in a terrific rage, the cobbler’s son began flopping the sword end over end in the direction of the dragon. Sweat ran off the youngest son’s forehead, but he labored on, blistering mad. At last, with one supreme heave, he had the sword standing on its handle a foot from the dragon’s throat. Of its own weight the sword fell, slicing the dragon’s head off.

“He he ho huk,” went the dragon—and then he lay dead.