The moment he landed, off he set for the Mount of St. George, accompanied only by the two esquires who served him. As he neared the fatal spot, the hills around seemed to grow darker and steeper, and a cloud came over the sun, and the gloomy gorge through which his path began to wind looked blacker and drearier than ever. It was as if he were going down alive into the grave. No sight, no sound, of life; the whole place seemed smitten with a curse. Now, too, he began to see fearful tokens of the monster's presence: here the skull of a horse, there the half-devoured skeleton of a bullock, yonder a heap of rusty armor, mingled with the crushed bones of some good knight who had gone forth upon the same quest as himself, and never come back. Suddenly he turned a sharp corner, and right before him yawned the black mouth of the dismal cavern in which the destroyer had made its den.
Just across the valley, under an overhanging rock, stood a little chapel, now silent and deserted, for those who used to pray there had fled in terror, and the poor old priest who tended it had been devoured by the serpent long ago. Kneeling before the moss-grown altar, the brave man prayed to God to strengthen him in the battle, and help him to destroy the enemy of the land.
Just then his horse started, and sent forth a neigh like a trumpet blast. Out of the darkness of the cavern a huge flat head was rearing itself, with its forked tongue quivering, and its sunken eyes glittering fiercely at the sight of prey.
"Now, my friends," said De Gozon to his esquires, "draw back, and let me try this fight alone. If it be God's will that I should conquer, He can strengthen my single arm to do the work; if I am to die, better that one life be lost than three."
There were tears in the eyes of the strong men as they listened, but they knew better than to dispute their leader's will. They bowed in silence, and drew back, while the knight, couching his lance, charged furiously upon his terrible foe. But the spear slid harmlessly over the slippery scales, and the monster's hot, foul breath and hideous aspect proved too much for the good war-horse. He started back, and neither spur nor call could urge him forward again.
There was but one thing to do, and De Gozon did it. Leaping to the ground, he drew his sword, and renewed the attack on foot. A blow fell—another—yet another. But the good blade which had cloven helmet and turban like pasteboard fell vainly upon the tough, slimy body of the reptile. One lash of that mighty tail, and down went De Gozon, stunned and bleeding, with the terrible jaws gaping over him like the mouth of the grave. The knight commended his soul to God, and thought all was over.
But just then a fierce yell was heard, and in sprang the dogs, fixing their teeth in the monster's undefended flesh with a grip that all its struggles could not shake off. The pain paralyzed it for a moment, and that moment was enough for the fallen knight to raise himself on his elbow and plunge his sword hilt-deep in the snake's exposed side. One mighty quiver ran through every coil of the huge body, and the terror of the island lay dead upon the trampled grass, overwhelming its conqueror in its fall.
Meanwhile the news that another champion had gone forth to meet the dragon had run abroad like wild-fire, and when the fight began, hundreds of trembling lookers-on were watching it from the surrounding hill-tops. There was a groan of dismay when the knight's war-horse failed him, and he had to face the monster on foot. When he was struck to the ground and the huge jaws were seen gaping over him, the in-drawn breath of the terrified crowd sounded like a hiss amid the dead silence; but when the battle ended, and they saw their terrible enemy lying dead before them, up went a shout that seemed to rend the very sky. Strangers embraced each other like brothers; children clapped their hands, and shouted for joy; women hid their faces, and wept aloud; and the whole throng poured downward like a wave into the gloomy valley which they had so long avoided like a plague-spot.
When De Gozon opened his eyes again, he found himself in the midst of thousands of people, who were shouting his name, and blessing him as their deliverer. His ride back to the town, with the dead monster in a wagon behind him, was like a triumphal procession. Every one struggled for a sight of him. Flowers and laurel leaves were showered upon him from the windows. Even the stately Knights of St. John lent their voices to swell the cheering; and so the great procession swept on to the hall of the Order, and into the court where the Grand Master was sitting in his chair of state, with his chosen knights around him.
As soon as the uproar lulled a little, De Gozon told his story in a quiet, matter-of-fact way which showed that he had no wish to make much of what he had done. Every one expected to see the Grand Master start up and embrace him; but the old knight sat firm as a rock, and his face was very grim.