‘Dear me! don’t you understand that I am going to take the whole forest back with me?’ said Stan, tying two other trees as he spoke.
‘I’ll tell you what,’ cried the dragon, trembling with fear at the thought of such a thing; ‘let me carry the wood for you, and you shall have seven times seven sacks full of ducats.’
‘You are a good fellow, and I agree to your proposal,’ answered Stan, and the dragon carried the wood.
Now the three days’ service which were to be reckoned as a year were over, and the only thing that disturbed Stan was, how to get all those ducats back to his home!
In the evening the dragon and his mother had a long talk, but Stan heard every word through a crack in the ceiling.
‘Woe be to us, mother,’ said the dragon; ‘this man will soon get us into his power. Give him his money, and let us be rid of him.’
But the old mother was fond of money, and did not like this.
‘Listen to me,’ said she; ‘you must murder him this very night.’
‘I am afraid,’ answered he.
‘There is nothing to fear,’ replied the old mother. ‘When he is asleep take the club, and hit him on the head with it. It is easily done.’