But he was afraid that he should suddenly find Stan pulling the whole forest down on his head.
This time, as it was the end of the year's service, it seemed as if the discussion would never cease. Stan did not want to listen at all, but had set his mind upon flinging the forest on his back at any rate.
"I'll tell you what," said the dragon, trembling with fear, "your wages shall be seven times seven sacks of ducats. Content yourself with that."
"Well, be it so, as I see you are a good fellow," replied Stan, and agreed that the dragon should carry the wood for him.
The year was now over. Stan was anxious only about one things—how he was to drag so many ducats home.
In the evening, the dragon and his mother sat talking together in their room; but Stan listened in the entry.
"Woe betide us!" said the dragon: "this fellow upsets us terribly. Give him money, even more than he has, only let us get rid of him."
Ah, yes! but the she-dragon cared for money.
"Let me tell you one thing," she said: "you must kill this man to-night."