The Seven Dragons | Page 9

wish he wouldn't, I am so sleepy."
And Tom said to himself: "I wonder whatever is the matter. As soon as
it's light I'll go and see."
So when it began to be pretty pink-and-yellow daylight, Tom got up
and went out. And all the time the Mexican lap-dog barked so that the
houses shook, and the tiles on the roof of the palace rattled like
milkcans in a cart whose horse is frisky.
"I'll go to the pillar," thought Tom, as he went through the town. The
pillar, of course, was the top of the piece of rock that had stuck itself
through Rotundia millions of years before, and made it spin round the
wrong way. It was quite in the middle of the island, and stuck up ever
so far, and when you were at the top you could see a great deal farther
than when you were not.
As Tom went out from the town, and across the downs, he thought
what a pretty sight it was to see the rabbits in the bright, dewy morning,
frisking with their young ones by the mouths of their burrows. He did
not go very near the rabbits, of course, because when a rabbit of that
size is at play it does not always look where it is going, and it might
easily have crushed Tom with its foot, and then it would have been
very sorry afterwards. And Tom was a kind boy, and would not have
liked to make even a rabbit unhappy. Earwigs in our country often get
out of the way when they think you are going to walk on them. They
too have kind hearts, and they would not like you to be sorry
afterwards.
So Tom went on looking at the rabbits and watching the morning grow

more and more red and golden. And the Mexican lap-dog barked all the
time, till the church bells tinkled, and the chimney of the apple factory
rocked again.
But when Tom got to the pillar, he saw that he would not need to climb
to the top to find out what the dog was barking at.
For there, by the pillar, lay a very large purple dragon. His wings were
like old purple umbrellas that have been very much rained on, and his
head was large and bald, like the top of a purple toad-stool, and his tail,
which was purple too, was very, very, very long, and thin, and tight like
the lash of a carriage whip.
It was licking one of its purple umbrella-y wings, and every now and
then it moaned and leaned its head back against the rocky pillar as
though it felt faint. Tom saw at once what had happened. A flight of
purple dragons must have crossed the island in the night, and this poor
one must have knocked its wing and broken it against the pillar.
Everyone is kind to everyone in Rotundia, and Tom was not afraid of
the dragon, although he had never spoken to one before. He had often
watched them flying across the sea, but he had never expected to get to
know one personally.
So now he said:-
"I am afraid you don't feel quite well."
The dragon shook his large purple head. He could not speak, but like
all other animals, he could understand well enough when he liked.
"Can I get you anything?" asked Tom, politely.
The dragon opened his purple eyes with an inquiring smile.
"A bun or two, now," said Tom, coaxingly; "there's a beautiful bun-tree
quite close."
The dragon opened a great purple mouth and licked his purple lips, so

Tom ran and shook the bun-tree, and soon came back with an armful of
fresh currant buns, and as he came he picked a few of the Bath kind
which grow on the low bushes near the pillar.
Because, of course, another consequence of the island's having spun the
wrong way is that all the things we have to make--buns and cakes and
shortbread--grow on trees and bushes, but in Rotundia they have to
make their cauliflowers and cabbages and carrots and apples and
onions, just as our cooks make puddings and turnovers.
Tom gave all the buns to the dragon, saying:-
"Here, try to eat a little. You'll soon feel better then."
The dragon ate up the buns, nodded rather ungraciously, and began to
lick his wing again. So Tom left him, and went back to the town with
the news, and everyone was so excited at a real live dragon's being on
the island--a thing which had never happened before--that they all went
out to look at it, instead of going to the prize-giving, and the Lord Chief
Schoolmaster went with the rest. Now, he had Tom's prize, the "History