CHAPTER XVII

ONCE MORE ON THE KING’S GREAT HIGHWAY

It was strange, but Peter _did_ find it very easy to climb, walking backwards. He didn’t get out of breath and it seemed as though somebody was boosting him up, as his mother used to boost him up above the hollyhock fence when he was a much smaller boy. And looking at Dallahan, it struck Peter that the red dragon did not seem to touch the hill with his feet, just floated up backwards without a speck of effort.

They must have gone very fast because it wasn’t long before they had reached the top of the high hill-road, and turning around, they stood looking down on what must have been Giggletown, a village of red roofs, nestling like a smile in the valley below. Dallahan pointed to some wagon tracks in the dust of the down-hill road. “Those are the tracks of Mig’s donkey cart,” he said. “Quick! Let’s follow them, before the tricky old fellow gets away from us.”

But the tricky old fellow had gotten away already. Peter and Dallahan searched the little hamlet of Giggletown from top to bottom and from bottom to top and then straight over again, finding not a trace of Mig, or the blue box, or the little white donkey with the disgusted expression. They had melted away like magic butter, and no one in the town had even caught a glimpse of them, and the people at the little fair that was going on so merrily in the shadow of a gray-green church said they had paid no golden ducats to see a princess with toes of silver.

“Well, this is very discouraging,” said Dallahan, at last, sitting down to rest on a stone by the road, “but of course it’s not surprising. Mig is very clever, very clever indeed. He can change himself into a great many things--shrubs and trees and stones--”

“Can he change the princess and the donkey and the cart and the sacks of gold into other things too?” Peter asked.

“Yes, they can all change together,” returned the red dragon, rubbing his sharp chin.

“Golly, this sounds hopeless,” thought Peter, looking up and down the broad road, and then he said aloud, “What road is this we’re on now?”

“It’s the King’s Great Highway,” Dallahan said.

“The King’s Great Highway? Why, that’s where I fell off,” exclaimed Peter. “Maybe--maybe if we wait right here, the dwagon will come by looking for me.”

“If he goes to Ireland he won’t pass back along this way for days and days,” sighed Dallahan, slumping all up on the stone. My, he looked small, more like a crawfish, boiled red, than a dragon.

And then, far, far off on the white road a tiny speck appeared, first no larger than a fly, and then growing to the size of a bumblebee, and then to the size of a mouse, and then to the size of a rat, and then to the size of a puppy, and then to the size of a dog, and then to the size of a pig, and then to the size of a colt and then to the size of a horse, and then--and then to the size of a dragon!

Peter gave a shout. “Oh, look--Oh, look, it’s the dwagon--the dwagon!” He cried, and ran up the road, and just then Dallahan gave a snort and jumped up from the stone on which he was sitting. Every red scale was on end, for would you believe it, the stone on which Dallahan had been sitting had moved ever so slightly--“It moved, I’m sure!” cried the dragon, looking at the fat stone. “I’m sure it moved, although it’s not moving this minute.”

But Peter did not hear him. He was too busily engaged otherwise. The cave dragon had stopped and off jumped Grandma, still in her armor, and off jumped Johnathan and Janet Jane and Nap and Jerry, and off jumped Crubby from his perch behind the dragon’s ear. All of them tried to embrace Peter at once and such a bumping of armor you never heard, and since Peter wore nothing but Riggy’s torn doublet and hose, he was severely pinched by the steel arms that gripped him.

“Oh, Peter, where have you been?” said Grandma, “and why did you fall off?”

“I tripped,” Peter said, simply.

“Where’s your armor?” asked Johnathan.

“We were so frightened,” whimpered Janet Jane, hugging Peter tightly.

Everybody was talking at once and Peter was trying to answer all their questions at once, too, when suddenly the dragons were heard exchanging words together.

“Well,” said the cave dragon, “it’s certainly a surprise to find you here, Dallahan.”

“Yes,” returned Dallahan, looking so small beside the other.

“And how you’ve changed,” said the cave dragon with sympathy.

Dallahan hung his head. “Yes, I have,” he admitted. “Don’t make fun of me, please. I can’t help it. I’ve been locked up in a box for a long, long time and if that wouldn’t make _anybody_ feel small I don’t know what would.”

“Oh, you poor, poor fellow,” said the cave dragon. “Let me shake your hand, my poor friend. I know just how you feel, because I’ve been up in the future where I was the last dragon in the whole, whole world and I tell you I felt mighty small and out of place myself. Yes, indeed I did! But you mustn’t let it keep you that way always--Now, you’re out of the box, aren’t you?”

“Yes, thanks to him,” said Dallahan, pointing to Peter.

The cave dragon smiled, tenderly. “_I_ can thank him too,” he said. “He did practically the same thing for me, way, way ahead. But to get back to you--you’re out of the box and--and--Well, look at yourself--you’re growing already!”

It was true--the red dragon was stretching and stretching like an elastic band before their eyes. He stretched from the waist-line down and from the waist-line up, stretched his long spine, slowly, slowly, and with this stretching of his spine his smile stretched too. “I’m myself again!” he cried. “I’m myself again! Oh, how happy I am! How happy I am! I want to do fine, big things! I’ve learned my lesson in that box. I don’t want to do small things any more. I want to do big and splendid things. No more thieving--no more petty fighting for me. I’m going to return the princess to you, my old friend, that is if--”

And just then Johnathan cried out, “Look! Look at that funny round stone--it’s walking away!”

And sure enough, all of them turned to see it waddling like a funny fat man down the road.

“That’s the stone that moved when I was sitting on it,” shouted Dallahan. “It must be--don’t you think it is--Why, it must be”--And they all ran after the stone. They surrounded it and it stopped, settling down like a ruffled-up hen on a nest.

“What _is_ it?” Grandma demanded, adjusting her spectacles, and leaning close she poked it with her fingers. “Why, it’s sort of a soft--a soft stone--that’s very strange.”

“Look! It’s coming all apart,” said Janet Jane, squealing.

“Oh, there’s a nose and an eye!” shouted Johnathan.

“It’s a magic stone,” said the important little Crubby.

Every one gripped their swords tighter, expecting anything after that.

“There’s moonstones and a bit of a red dress,” said the cave dragon, eyes big with surprise.

“And there’s whiskers in two braids,” Peter said.

“And there’s a disgusted expression,” said Grandma.

“Keep it together,--don’t let it fly apart!” cried Dallahan. “It’s Mig the magician and the cart and the Princess Silver Toes and everything all mixed up. Don’t let them fly apart or we’ll lose them!”

All the hands reached out and tried to hold the crumbling stone together, but it seemed hopeless, just like trying to lift up a whole armful of loose apples at once.

“Quick!--that part’s slipping away--catch it--Look, it’s running right between your legs!” yelled Johnathan to Peter--“Catch it! Catch it!”

“I’ve got it,” said Peter, holding it up--“It looks like a silver toe.”

“That’s what it is--it’s the princess’s silver toe running away all by itself--put it back!” Dallahan ordered.

But this was impossible to keep up, for as soon as the toe was put back something else would run away, and so it went, and they thought surely Mig would escape, when Grandma, fumbling in her mysterious knitting bag, brought forth many balls of colored yarn, and whirling one around her head like a lasso, she entangled the crumbling stone in meshes of red and yellow wool, winding it around and around--around and around--just as a spider winds his silken thread around a poor captive fly or green grasshopper. And soon the stone was quiet and from the heart of it and through the tangled yarn came a gruff voice saying, “Let me out--let me out--I’m Mig, and I’m sorry--I’m sorry--”

“Are you _sure_ you’re sorry?” asked Dallahan.

“Yes, yes, I’m sorry, and if you let me out of here I’ll never steal again.”

Dallahan looked at the cave dragon and the cave dragon looked at Dallahan and slowly both creatures nodded their great heads. “All right,” said Dallahan, with importance, “we’ll let you out.” And he winked knowingly at Grandma and Grandma winked back at him. Then she began to wind up the colored yarn, very quickly, back into the mysterious knitting bag.

Then, when the last bright strand had disappeared, all eyes were fixed on the fat stone and beheld it melted away and in its place stood a beautiful girl with long golden hair, dressed in a red dress encrusted with magic moonstones, and there was the strange little Mig, his whiskers in two braids, and there was the blue cart and the little white donkey still wearing the disgusted expression, and there were the sacks of gold.

“You bad, bad little fellow!” said the cave dragon, reaching out with a golden claw for Mig, the magician, but Mig spoke a strange magic word and the next moment, there he was, flying away high, high up in the air, in the shape of a long, blue dragonfly----“Zummmm--zummm--zummm,” he called back at them, and that’s the same thing as, “Ha, ha, ha!” in the language of a dragonfly. And so he disappeared, but he left the princess behind him and the cart and the donkey and the sacks of gold.

And strangely enough, the princess was not enchanted any more. Her big blue eyes opened like misted violets and her face was the color of a rose, and she ran to the cave dragon with her arms stretched out and she embraced him, and from that moment she was sixteen years and one moment old.

“Let’s look in the sacks--it must be gold!” said Crubby, taking command again. But Mig had had his little joke and was still the thief and the cheater, for when they opened up the sacks, there was nothing but air that rushed out like the winds and the bags collapsed like colored balloons.