These words frightened the dragon, but he did not yet believe that it would be so bad as Stan said. So they went home for the provisions, though he wasn't at all pleased with the idea of having Stan serve his year in merely going after the club. When they got back again to it, Stan sat down on the bag of provisions and became absorbed in staring at the moon.
"What are you doing?" asked the dragon.
"Only waiting for the moon to sail by."
"Why?"
"Don't you see that the moon is directly in my way?" said Stan. "Or do you want me to fling the club into the moon?"
The dragon now began to be seriously anxious. It was a club that had descended to him from his ancestors, and he wouldn't have liked to lose it in the moon.
"I'll tell you what," he said. "Don't throw the club. I'll do it myself."
"Certainly not. Heaven forbid!" replied Stan. "Only wait till the moon passes by."
Then a long conversation followed; for Stan would not consent to have the dragon throw the club again, except on the promise of seven sacks of ducats.
"Oh, dear! mother, he's a tremendously strong man," said the dragon. "I could scarcely prevent him from throwing the club into the moon."