The Tale of Oat Cake Crag - By Susan Wittig Albert Page 0,101

into the back of a wagon carrying a load of milk cans bound for the cheese factory, startling the draft horse so that it bolted and flung the wagon, cans and all, into the ditch.

None of these major and minor calamities, however, was visible from Oat Cake Crag, where the owl and the dragon were watching Water Bird as it skimmed up and down the lake with its pilot and its animated passenger. The owl was perched on the limb of a tree, whilst the dragon crouched beneath, disguised as a bush. The dragon had turned nearly purple with astonishment, for he had never before seen a flying object the size of Water Bird—except for other dragons, of course.

Now, the last time we saw the owl and the dragon together (at Bosworth’s birthday party), the two of them appeared to be very confused. The dragon had inquired about the Windermere monster whose sighting had been reported by Bailey Badger’s great-great-grandfather. The owl replied with regard to the hydroplane. It was clear that each was laboring under a rather substantial misconception as to the meaning of the other.

But at last the dragon realized that the owl was describing some sort of motorized flying machine, like an oversized mechanical wind-up toy that was somehow capable of getting into the air, and the owl got it through his head that the dragon was looking for a water-dwelling monster, something on the order of an aquatic dragon.

Having sorted out their misunderstanding, the pair discussed the matter at length. They decided to go to Oat Cake Crag, take up a lookout position, and see what they could of the monster, the hydroplane, or both. The owl had packed a light lunch (mutton-and-cheese sandwiches with pickle, cold sliced tongue, deviled eggs with capers, carrot sticks, and frosted ginger cakes). In addition, he had worn his vest and daytime goggles and brought binoculars, a notebook, and a stopwatch. Thus equipped and provisioned, the owl and the dragon had just set up their post when the hangar doors swung wide open and Water Bird skidded down the ramp and splashed into the water.

The dragon watched, open-mouthed, as the aeroplane wended its way through the moorings of sailboats and row-boats and fishing boats and took off upwind, climbing into the sky. “Oh, my starsz and scaleszs,” he hissed incredulously. “It swimsz and it fliesz. It really doeszs.” He stared at the Bird out of the ragged fringe of fir branches he had tied to his head and shoulders. “Doesz it dive? Under the water, I mean.”

“It did once, after a fashion,” said the owl, watching the aeroplane through his binoculars as it whizzed up the lake in the direction of Ambleside. “But that was when it stopped flying and crashed intooo the water. I dooo not believe that it dives deliberately. It does not seem tooo be constructed for that purpose.” He frowned, trying to focus on the passenger riding behind the pilot. The previous passenger had clung to the struts, bleating and terrified and repenting his desire to fly. This one, however, was almost demonic, shouting and waving his arms, with his greatcoat streaming behind like a magician’s cape. He was obviously enjoying himself.

“And thiszs iszs the thing that haszs been terrorizszsing the neighborhood?” asked the dragon, studying the hydroplane from behind his screen branches. “Thiszs iszs the creature who iszs annoying people and frightening animalszs?”

“This is it,” the Professor replied grimly. “But people know what it is and can take account of it. The animals—particularly the not-sooo-bright ones, the cows and silly sheep—are terrified of it, and with gooood cause. They fear it is going tooo eat them, and nooo amount of talking will persuade them otherwise.” He put down his binoculars and shook his head gloomily. “The machine is truly a monster,” he added, “although not in the sense that you are looooking for.”

“Perhapsz it iszsn’t,” the dragon said regretfully. “I would rather have discovered a dragon that waszs more like the Loch Nesszs monszster, swimming and diving and the rest of it. But I wonder if it won’t serve my purposze just as well. And perhaps even better, considering its dire effect on the neighbors.”

“Serve the purpose?” The owl looked down from his perch, beginning to feel a niggling sense of suspicion. “Just what purpose dooo you have in mind, Thorvaald?”

Thorvaald shuffled his feet, looking a bit shamefaced. “Well, to tell the truth, I am looking for a way to redeem myszself with the Grand