‘Don’t you see that the moon is exactly in my way? But of course, if you like, I will throw the club into the moon.’
At these words the dragon grew uncomfortable for the second time. He prized the club, which had been left him by his grandfather, very highly, and had no desire that it should be lost in the moon.
‘I’ll tell you what,’ he said, after thinking a little. ‘Don’t throw the club at all. I will throw it a second time, and that will do just as well.’
‘No, certainly not!’ replied Stan. ‘Just wait till the moon sets.’
But the dragon, in dread lest Stan should fulfil his threats, tried what bribes could do, and in the end had to promise Stan seven sacks of ducats before he was suffered to throw back the club himself.
‘Oh, dear me, that is indeed a strong man,’ said the dragon, turning to his mother. ‘Would you believe that I have had the greatest difficulty in preventing him from throwing the club into the moon?’
Then the old woman grew uncomfortable too! Only to think of it! It was no joke to throw things into the moon! So no more was heard of the club, and the next day they had all something else to think about.
‘Go and fetch me water!’ said the mother, when the morning broke, and gave them twelve buffalo skins with the order to keep filling them till night.
They set out at once for the brook, and in the twinkling of an eye the dragon had filled the whole twelve, carried them into the house, and brought them back to Stan. Stan was tired: he could scarcely lift the buckets when they were empty, and he shuddered to think of what would happen when they were full. But he only took an old knife out of his pocket and began to scratch up the earth near the brook.
‘What are you doing there? How are you going to carry the water into the house?’ asked the dragon.
