rank ferns waved to my cWn, and were so thick 

 that they left little trace of my passing until late 

 in the summer. 



This bit of the swale from the lower edge of 

 the gravelly slope to the edge of the woods on 

 the opposite slope was the lair of a dragon. My 

 path cut directly across it. 



Perhaps the dragon had been there ever since 

 I had known the swale, and summer after sum- 

 mer had allowed me to cross unchallenged. I 

 do not know. I only know that one day he rose 

 out of the ferns before me — the longest, ugliest, 

 boldest beast that ever withstood me in the quiet 

 walks about home. 



It was a day in early July, hot and very close. 

 I was wading the sunken trail, much as one 

 "treads water," my head not always above the 

 surface of the fronds, when, suddenly, close to 

 my side the ferns in a single spot were violently 

 shaken. Instantly ahead of me they whirled 

 again ; and before I could think, off across the 

 path was another rush and whirl — then stirless 

 silence. 



I knew what it meant. These were not the 

 sudden, startled leaps of three animals, but the 

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