By this time, also, the cooper began to get homesick. Even though afraid to meet his wife, he was longing to see his children, after his long absence. He had got very tired of looking only on rocks and the walls of the ravine. Moreover, the dragons did not seem to be as sociable, [[73]]as at first, and they amused him no longer. Besides, he wanted to see his neighbors again, to tell them of his adventures and even to pose as a hero. He feared, however, that before he tried to get away, the dragons might still eat him up; for they snorted, and bellowed, and rubbed their stomachs, with their forepaws, as if hungry enough, indeed, to swallow a horse with its harness on.
One warm day, the cooper heard, afar off, the echoes of the Alpine horn. He listened with delight to the yodel music, as the shepherds called their cows and goats. As he was wondering how he could get out of the valley, and whether the dragons would let him go, he saw the larger one of the two monsters unfurl his wings, which were as big as a windmill’s sails. He flew straight up in the air, and, when near the blue sky, circled about a few times, like the carrier pigeons, which the cooper had seen at home. Then, careering far away, he disappeared in the dim distance beyond. No doubt, that day, some poor daddy, on coming home at night, missed one of his daughters. The cooper had noticed, that both the dragons had been roaring with hunger, for several days previously, and now he had his fears.
So the cooper watched his chance, determined not to let the other dragon get away, without his stealing a ride on the monster’s back. He knew [[74]]that a man’s weight, for a dragon to carry in the air, would hardly be felt, so much as that of a feather.
For a dragon had the power of a catapult, the strength of a rhinoceros, a roar like a lion, teeth like a tiger, fins like a fish, claws like a falcon, wings like an eagle, and scales like an alligator. In short, a dragon was a whole menagerie in itself.
So watching his chance, the cooper, at the very moment that he saw the second dragon unfold his wings, grabbed hold of his tail; and, though it was slippery, he hung on to this, for dear life. Far up in the air, the monster flew, at first very high, and then low, as if he knew where the cooper lived. Then, coming near his village, the monster swooped down near the earth, and dropped his burden gently on the top of a wagon loaded with hay. He was off before any one could let fly an arrow from the string, or shoot a bolt out of a bow gun, or say “By Saint Matthew.”
As the cooper climbed down from the hay wagon, all the ducks, geese and chickens set up a concert of welcome. Donkeys brayed, the cows lowed, and dogs barked, and cats meowed. His wife, instead of scolding him, threw her arms around him, and wept for joy. His children gathered about, and so held his arms and [[75]]legs, that puss could not get near to rub her sides against his limbs. All his neighbors and friends welcomed him back with delight.
The next day, his shop was filled with leaky tubs, and churns that had lost their hoops, and barrels that needed new staves. In addition, to this old work awaiting him, the orders for new utensils came in so fast, that he expected soon to be a rich man. He was so grateful, for his deliverance and safe return, and for his continuing prosperity, that, instead of hoarding up his money, he presented, to the church, in his village, a beautiful silver communion service, on which two dragons were engraved.
But his happiness was but for a short time, for his stomach had changed, and could no longer digest the ordinary food of mortals, not even buttermilk; and, as for cheese, it nearly killed him. Feeding so long, on honey and dragon’s food, had ruined him for liking any other articles of diet.
In vain his wife cooked everything very nicely and offered it in the most tempting form. The maidens of the village, thankful at not being digested by dragons, tried their best to tempt his appetite, with the very finest their dainty hands could make, in the form of broths, salads, meats, cakes, apple dumplings, puddings and tarts. The delicatessen shops sent the choicest tidbits [[76]]they could roast before their spits, bake in their ovens, or show on their tables, or in their shop windows. Nothing would avail, and the poor man died of slow starvation; and this, before even autumn had come.
After so sad an event, the popularity of even good dragons waned, so that it is hard, nowadays, to make anyone believe there were such creatures, that are named in encyclopædias. It is now, the firm opinion of most Swiss folks, old and young, that the only good dragon is a dead one, while those neither dead or alive, but only painted, or in fairy tales, are good enough to know about. [[77]]