Three Tales of My Father's Dragon

  “I’ll try another crossing,” he said to himself, scrambling up the bank, and galloping down the road as fast as he could to the next crossing. But here, too, a very small culvert carried the water under the road.

  “Oh dear, oh dear!” he muttered as he galloped on farther between a yellow farmhouse and a big yellow barn. Just as he was passing he heard a rooster scream and a window slam shut in the house. “Where shall I hide? Where shall I hide?” he panted.

  And then he came to a third crossing. He tumbled down the bank and found another culvert, but a big culvert, big enough for a baby dragon to hide in. He crawled inside, wading through shallow water that cooled his hot, sandy feet.

  “What if someone in the farmhouse saw me?” he kept thinking as he stretched just far enough to nibble the tasty skunk cabbages and marsh marigolds growing outside the culvert. And then as he ate and cooled off, he felt tired and happy and almost safe, and he dozed off to sleep in the culvert.

  Chapter Two

  MR. AND MRS. WAGONWHEEL

  But someone had seen the dragon. At least he was sure he’d seen something blue and yellow and gold galloping down the road. It was Mr. Wagonwheel, the farmer living in the yellow farmhouse, who had just been closing his window as the dragon ran past.

  “What’s that galloping noise?” asked Mrs. Wagonwheel, sitting up in bed.

  “A large blue monster just ran by, and after breakfast I’m going to find out all about it!” yelled Mr. Wagonwheel, jumping into his clothes and rushing off to put the cows in the barn for milking.

  Mrs. Wagonwheel, meanwhile, made pancakes and coffee, but forgot to boil the eggs. She was horribly upset at the thought of a monster rushing past her house at five o’clock in the morning.

  Mr. Wagonwheel hurried through the milking, let the cows into the pasture, and dashed back to the kitchen. He was anxious to eat and be off after the Blue Demon, as he had decided to call whatever it was. He swallowed a pancake whole and banged two eggs on the side of his cup.

  Splop! Raw egg flew all over the table and Mr. Wagonwheel. Mrs. Wagonwheel had forgotten to boil the eggs, of course.

  “Martha! What’s the matter with you?” yelled Mr. Wagonwheel.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” said poor Mrs. Wagonwheel. “I’m so upset about that horrible monster I don’t know what I’m doing,” and she nervously slipped a pancake instead of her handkerchief into her apron pocket.

  “Well, boil more eggs!” roared Mr. Wagonwheel, going to the sink to wash off his face and hands and shirt and overalls.

  Now Mr. Wagonwheel liked his eggs hard, very hard, and as he waited for them to get very hard, it began to rain. It was only a drizzly rain, but enough to wash away the dragon’s footprints in the dusty road.

  “Drat it!” thundered Mr. Wagonwheel, looking out the window. “It’s raining!”

  “I thought we needed rain, dear,” said Mrs. Wagonwheel.

  “We do, but why can’t it wait until I capture the Blue Demon? Now maybe I’ll never find him.”

  “Maybe it’s just as well,” said Mrs. Wagonwheel, carefully putting a spoonful of salt in her coffee.

  “Well, I can see you have no spirit of adventure,” grumped Mr. Wagonwheel, peeling his at-last-ready very hard eggs.

  He picked up his rifle, a strong rope, and put on his raincoat and boots. “I’m off!” he yelled, and slammed the door.

  “He’ll never come back,” thought Mrs. Wagonwheel, and she quietly sat down to cry.

  Mr. Wagonwheel ran down the road, pouncing on bushes, peering behind trees, and examining roadside ditches, yelling all the while, “Coming, ready or not!” He made such a racket that the cows heard him in plenty of time. They huddled around the big culvert where the baby dragon was hiding and pretended to be busy drinking water. For they had found the sleeping dragon while Mr. Wagonwheel was eating his very hard eggs.

  “Wake up!” they had said, “and tell us what you are, and what you’re doing in our culvert.”

  The dragon woke up with a start, and then smiled at the friendly cows. “I’m a baby dragon,” he explained, “and I’m on my way home to the great high mountains of Blueland.”

  “But what are you doing in our culvert?” asked a cow.

  “I’m hiding. You see, most people think that there are no dragons left, and if I should be captured, I’d surely end up in a zoo or a circus, and never get home again.”

  “Sh!” said another cow. “I think I hear Mr. Wagonwheel now. All through milking time he was muttering about catching a Blue Demon. He must have meant you.”

  It was then that the cows huddled around the opening to the culvert, and the dragon crouched down on his stomach in the water.

  “The culvert!” yelled Mr. Wagonwheel, brandishing his rifle. “An excellent hiding place for the Blue Demon.” And he started down the bank on the other side of the road.

  “It’s all over now,” thought the dragon, who could tell where the farmer was from the noise he was making. But just then Mr. Wagonwheel looked across the road at his peaceful cows and thought, “My cows would be in a panic if the Demon were hiding here!” He turned back up the bank and ran down the road, beating the bushes and peering behind trees.

  The cows grazed nearby all day long, talking to the dragon and telling him when it was safe to come out of the culvert. Toward evening they heard Mr. Wagonwheel stamping back along the road, yelling “Hoop-la! All of you, into the barn!” and as they wandered off they quietly warned the dragon, “Leave just as soon as he goes to the barn. It’s just like him to be out looking for you by flashlight after supper.”

  And they were right. Long after the dragon had flown far beyond the yellow farmhouse and culvert, Mr. Wagonwheel was shooting into bushes. Mrs. Wagonwheel was in bed with a case of nerves.

  Chapter Three

  THE MEN ON THE SLOPE

  “It’s a lovely night for flying,” thought the dragon as he hurried toward the north, urged on by cool brisk winds. The rain had stopped long ago, and a crescent moon shone palely. Looking down, he could see the outline of Seaweed Bay, and then a point of land called Due East Lookout. At this point he must turn and fly directly westward over Seaweed City, across Spiky Mountain Range, and over Awful Desert to reach the Blueland Mountains in the heart of the desert. Many people had tried to cross the desert and climb these mountains, but there was no water, and treacherous sandstorms raged all year round, making traveling almost impossible. So far, no man had succeeded.

  “It won’t be long now!” sang the baby dragon as he passed over Seaweed City, over the coastal Spiky Mountain Range, and then started over Awful Desert beyond.

  “What a lovely night!” he thought again. And then, all of a sudden, he realized how clear it was over the desert. “Where are the sandstorms? Yes, where are the sandstorms?” A sick feeling came over him. In weather like this a man might be able to cross the desert into Blueland, might see one of the dragon family, and learn the dragon secret, that dragons still live in Blueland!

  Faster and faster he flew, and way up ahead he saw a tiny light where the mountains rose straight up out of the desert.

  “Men!” thought the dragon. “If only I’m in time to warn my family.”

  Onward he sped until he could see that the light was the blaze of a campfire on the rocky mountain slope. He counted four or five men sitting around the campfire.

  “I’d better find out what they’re planning to do so I’ll know how to save my family,” thought the dragon, circling down and landing below the men. He carefully picked his way through the huge rocks on the slope and hid close enough to hear what the men were saying.

  “If Frank and Albert and the rest don’t find water soon, we’re sunk. Well have to get back pretty quick, and what if the weather changes? After all, this is the first time, so far as anybody knows, that the weather has ever been clear over the desert, and I don’t trust it to last very long.”

  “Me neither,” said another voice.

  Just then they heard a
shout farther up the slope and a man came running down toward the fire.

  “Did you find water?” they asked him.

  “Water! Loads of it. The mountains form a circle, and all the streams from these mountains flow toward the center to make a tremendous lake. But that’s not all we found!”

  “You mean you found evidence that the great dragons of Blueland actually did exist at one time?”

  “Evidence!” said the man who had run down the slope. “Evidence! Why, we’ve got fifteen of the most beautiful dragons you ever dreamed of trapped in a cave that seems to have only one entrance. The rest of the men are guarding it.”

  “Fifteen trapped in the cave!” moaned the baby dragon. “Why, that’s my whole family—my six sisters, seven brothers and my dear gigantic mother and father. I’m the only one left to save them. But why didn’t they fly away?” He listened to the men again.

  “How do you know you have fifteen in a cave?”

  “We took them by surprise. They were asleep at the entrance, and when they saw us they rushed inside. What a sight!”

  “Fifteen dragons!” One of the men whistled.

  “What did they look like?”

  “They went so fast it was hard to see, but there was one huge blue one, a big yellow one, about five smaller green ones, and the rest were blue and yellow. They all had red horns and feet, and gold-colored wings!”

  “I can’t wait,” said one of the men. “Why, every zoo in the country will want one!”

  “Oh, no!” groaned the horrified baby dragon, hiding behind the rocks.

  Chapter Four

  IN THE CAVE

  As the men went about packing up knapsacks and putting out the fire, the dragon carefully crept up the mountain slope. “It’s a good thing they don’t know that the cave does have another entrance, but I wonder if I can still squeeze through it.”

  It was the tunnel through which he had gone when he ran away to sit on the cloud. At that time, only he and his two youngest sisters were small enough to fit into it. “Maybe, just maybe, I can still get through,” he thought.

  He hurried up the dry rocky slope of the mountain, racing to get to the tunnel before the sun broke over the rim of the desert. “I’ve got to rescue them!” he thought frantically. Over the gap between two snowcapped peaks he galloped and then down into the beautiful green alpine meadows in the center of the mountain circle. Here, streams babbled down the slopes to a bottomless lake. Masses of wild flowers, gentians, butterfly weed, painted cup, all colors, paraded along the brooksides. In the pastures, everywhere, were giant snapdragon plants looking more like bushes than flowers, but the dragon did not have time to stop and gaze at his beautiful home in the great high mountains of Blueland. Already the sun was reaching over the horizon, lighting up the sky.

  “Here it is,” he panted and he dove into a thick clump of snapdragons growing over the entrance to the small tunnel. He had seen the men across the lake guarding the cave with an enormous net. “I wish I knew what they’re planning to do next,” he thought. “But it’s too late now. I’ll have to wait until dark.”

  He tried to pass into the tunnel, but the roots of the snapdragons had grown over the entrance, and dirt had washed in from above. “Dig carefully. They might notice the stir in the bushes,” he warned himself as he cleared the way. At last he could fit into the hole, and he started the long trip through the tunnel.

  “I might get stuck any moment,” he groaned as the tunnel turned corners and gradually dug deeper into the side of the mountain, always only just big enough for him to squeeze through.

  On and on he crawled, and just when he thought he would surely get to the large part of the cave, he got stuck. He pushed and wiggled, but he could not get through. Tears rolled down his blue cheeks. “I wanted so badly to see my family,” he sniffled. “But maybe they’re near enough to hear me now,” and he whispered, “Mother, Father, are you there?”

  “Who’s that?” asked a voice that sounded like his sister Eustacia’s.

  “It’s Boris!” cried his mother. “Oh, Boris, Boris! We thought we’d never see you again. Come on into the cave. We’re in terrible danger.”

  “I know,” said Boris the dragon. “But I can’t squeeze through the tunnel. Oh, I do wish I could. But listen, whatever you do, don’t go near the main entrance to the cave. Many men are waiting there with an enormous net. I don’t know yet what they plan to do with it, but I’ll try to find out tonight if nothing happens before then. I think they’re afraid to come in and get you. They don’t know how harmless we really are. Anyway, keep calm and count on me. I have a friend who may be able to help, and if you don’t hear from me soon, it’ll be because I’ve gone off to get him. Now I’ll have to back out again. I must stay near the tunnel entrance so I can get out easily when I have a chance. Goodbye!”

  And Boris backed out for what seemed like hours and hours until he came out among the roots of the snapdragon bushes. He peered through the leaves across the lake and counted sixteen men standing in a row outside the cave. A breeze sprang up across the lake and carried their voices over the water to him.

  “They’ll come out when they get hungry enough,” said one man.

  “But how do you know they won’t be fiercer when they’re hungry and have been trapped for some time? Me, I’d rather go in after them right now.”

  “Go in after them?” said a third man. “Why, we don’t even know anything about that cave. Suppose it does have more entrances? The dragons may have escaped already. And what about pitfalls and rockslides in there? We ought to know more about this. No, the thing to do is to leave ten men here on guard, and send the other six to search for other entrances and to have a look at the rock formation around here.”

  “Good idea!” said the man who had come down the mountain to the campfire.

  The wind changed and the dragon could only hear confused sounds of talking, but the men seemed to be deciding who would stay and who would go.

  “They’ll find me for sure if I stay here, and I don’t want to trap myself too,” thought the dragon. “Daylight or no, I’d better fly and get Elmer. He’ll know what to do, if we can get back in time.”

  Quickly he fitted the snapdragon roots over the tunnel hole, arranging them carefully so they wouldn’t look newly dug-up. Then, keeping close to the ground, he crept through the green meadows and up, up, up to the gap between the mountain peaks. He took one last look at the beautiful blue lake surrounded by the green, green meadows, felt quite sure he hadn’t been seen, and then plunged down the rocky slope on the other side. Up in the air he flew, shielded from the eyes of the men by the circle of mountains.

  Chapter Five

  BACK TO NEVERGREEN CITY

  High, high over the desert flew the dragon, the hot wind stifling him, the hot sun parching his throat. He strained his eyes to see each object on the sands to make sure it wasn’t a man.

  At last he was over Spiky Mountain Range. Panting for air and water, he circled down fast and plunged through the trees to a mountain brook. He had seen no one on the desert.

  “I’ll rest here until dusk,” he thought, sticking his head right under the cool, gurgling water. Then he lay down in the brook on his stomach, carefully keeping his gold-colored wings out of the water. As he dried off on a sunny rock he listened for noises of men and dreamed of how he and Elmer would rescue his family. Once he heard children’s voices, but a woman called them together and they went off in the other direction.

  “School picnic,” he thought as he shook out his wings for the long, hard trip ahead. He wanted to reach Nevergreen City by morning without stopping.

  Up through the trees and over Seaweed City flew the dragon. He saw lights popping on suddenly along streets, in houses, but he didn’t hear a little boy scream, “Mommy, come look at the dragon in the sky!”

  It didn’t matter. The little boy’s mother only said, “Chester, I told you to stay in bed!” So Chester was the only one to see the dragon, and nobody
believed him until later when the “dragon affair” had become famous.

  “As I remember, Elmer said he lived right across the street from a park,” thought the dragon as he hurried on. “Yes, it was Evergreen Park, but what if I can’t find him?”

  The wind beat back his tears as he raced over Seaweed Bay, over Mr. Wagonwheel’s farm and the zigzagging brook. He thought he could see the road as the moon slipped in and out among the clouds.

  He flew to the coast of Popsicornia and followed it southward. Suddenly he felt flooded in light. What had happened? The moon? No. He looked down and saw a beam of light leaping up from a ship off the coast. He violently zigzagged up and down, to one side and then to the other, trying to get rid of the light. Men were shouting on the ship. Into the beam, out again, flooded in light, out of the beam again he flew. He knew that the ship’s searchlight had found him accidentally, but as it tried to follow his flight he thought wildly, “How well can they see me? What do they think I am?”

  And then, as suddenly as the light had found him, it lost him. He sped on in the comforting darkness, his heart pounding hard with fright.

  As dawn began to break into the sky he saw Nevergreen City harbor, the lighthouse, and in the center of the city, a large green shape.

  “Evergreen Park,” he thought with relief, and he quietly glided down among the trees. No one had been on the streets to see him.

  Chapter Six

  ELMER TO THE RESCUE