“Oh--oh”--cried Peter in surprise, “you’re--you’re not the Princess are--are you?”
“No,” said the red dragon in a shrunken voice, “I’m--I’m just Dallahan.”
Peter clutched his sword to defend himself. “But--but how little you are--not a bit like a real dwagon,” he said.
“I--I am little now,” Dallahan whimpered. “That wretched old Mig did it. He cramped me into that box and made me feel so small that it’s taken all the gumption out of me. Please put up your sword, I’m perfectly harmless now.”
Peter instantly felt sorry for Dallahan. He let his sword drop to his side and came nearer to the poor red fellow.
“I’m very sorry,” Peter said. “You see, I thought you were very fierce.”
“I was before that horrible magician made me feel so small.”
“That’s rather the way my dwagon felt when I first found him,” Peter started to explain.
Dallahan interrupted. “Your dragon? Who’s your dragon?” he asked, frowning.
“The cave dwagon I think they call him, around these parts.”
“Oh, that one,” said Dallahan, shaking his head.
“Do you know him?” Peter asked.
“Do I know him? I stole the princess away from him, didn’t I?” He looked pathetic. “And he used to be such a good friend of mine, when we were boys, before I moved to Ireland. I shouldn’t have played such a mean trick on an old, boyhood friend, should I now?” His brogue became quivery.
“No, you shouldn’t have,” Peter agreed, solemnly.
“Well, I’ve paid for my meanness,” Dallahan sighed, looking down at his shrunken self with self-pity. “And now I’m ready to make amends. We must find that wretched little Mig, rescue the princess, and return her to the cave dragon who loves her with all his heart.”
Peter’s head was in a whirl, just as yours must be when you read this, because it is all so topsy-turvey. “But the cave dragon’s gone to Ireland to find you and make you return the princess,” he tried to explain.
“Has he now?” said Dallahan, with a brief return of his old spirit and he stretched almost two feet. “Well, a lot of good that would have done him if I’d been in my old form. One blow and”--but here he felt small again and the two feet he had added to himself quickly vanished. “So he’s gone to Ireland, has he? That’s too bad. All that trip for nothing.”
Peter looked up the road that climbed the hill toward Giggletown. The sun was up and some big black crows came down to look at the blue box, always curious, you know. Peter asked, worried, “What’s to be done next?”
“We must find Mig,” said Dallahan, “that’s the first step. Can you run fast?”
“Not so very fast,” Peter replied, doubtfully.
Dallahan spoke thoughtfully. “I’d ride you on my back, only I feel so small and crushed, at this moment, I wouldn’t have the strength to carry you, but maybe as we run along I’ll get more confidence and that will take out some of the kinks.”
“Will we have to run up that hill?” Peter asked, pointing up the road.
“Yes, it’s the only way to Giggletown, but run up backwards, like this. Then it will seem as if you’re running down and it won’t be half as hard.” And Dallahan started up tail first. Peter drew in a deep breath and started up backwards after him.
