Дні мрій
The Reluctant Dragon
TheBoyhadsecuredagoodfrontplace,welluptowardsthecave,andwasfeelingasanxiousasastage-manageronafirstnight.Couldthedragonbedependedupon?Hemightchangehismindandvotethewholeperformancerot;orelse,seeingthattheaffairhadbeensohastilyplanned,withoutevenarehearsal,hemightbetoonervoustoshowup.TheBoylookednarrowlyatthecave,butitshowednosignoflifeoroccupation.Couldthedragonhavemadeamoon-lightflitting?
Thehigherportionsofthegroundwerenowblackwithsightseers,andpresentlyasoundofcheeringandawavingofhandkerchiefstoldthatsomethingwasvisibletothemwhichtheBoy,faruptowardsthedragon-endofthelineashewas,couldnotyetsee.AminutemoreandSt.George’sredplumestoppedthehill,astheSaintrodeslowlyforthonthegreatlevelspacewhichstretcheduptothegrimmouthofthecave.Verygallantandbeautifulhelooked,onhistallwar-horse,hisgoldenarmourglancinginthesun,hisgreatspearhelderect,thelittlewhitepennon,crimson-crossed,flutteringatitspoint.Hedrewreinandremainedmotionless.Thelinesofspectatorsbegantogivebackalittle,nervously;andeventheboysinfrontstoppedpullinghairandcuffingeachother,andleanedforwardexpectant.
“Nowthen,dragon!”mutteredtheBoyimpatiently,fidgetingwherehesat.Heneednothavedistressedhimself,hadheonlyknown.
