56 PRINCE PRIGIO.

 

Firedrake, too, was in an unhappy way; for
his legs were now cold and black, his horns
were black also, though his body, especially
near the heart, glowed still like red-hot iron.

“Go it, Remora!” cried the prince: “his
legs are giving way; he’s groggy on his pins!
One more effort, and he won’t beable to
move!”

Encouraged by this advice, the white, slip-
pery Remora streamed out of his cavern again,
more and more of him uncoiling, as if the
mountain were quite full of him. He had lost
strength, no doubt: for the steam .and mist
went up from him in clouds, and the hissing of
his angry voice grew fainter; but so did the roars
of the Firedrake. Presently they sounded more
like groans; and at last the Remora:slipped up
his legs above the knees, and fastened on his
very heart of fire. Then the Firedrake stood
groaning like a black bull, knee-deep in snow;
and still the Remora climbed and climbed.

‘Go it now, Firedrake!” shouted the prince;
for he knew that if the Remora won, it would
be too cold for him to draw near the place, and
cut off the Firedrake’s head and tail.

“Go it, Drake! he’s slackening!” cried the
prince again; and the brave Firedrake made
one last furious effort, and rising on his wings,
dropped just on the spine of his enemy.

The wounded Remora curled back his head
again on himself, and again crawled, steaming