Dragon Games 1/4

A dragon stood on the rim of an extinct volcano crater, watching the brig Mary Belle, closely followed by a paddle steamer; leave the island where Barnacle Bill had recently been cast ashore.

He waited until he’d seen the two ships disappear over the horizon, before flying down to join the other dragons waiting in the crater behind him. “They’re out of sight, it’s O.K. to carry on with the games now!”

A loud cheer went up from the crowd, the younger dragons being especially enthusiastic.

“Right then,” said the chief, “let’s start with pool bombing.”

A selection of suitably sized rocks was soon assembled on the beach, then the chief pointed out a pool to be used as a target. “First run at five hundred feet,” he called and those taking part picked up a rock in their front feet and hopped rather awkwardly into the air.

The contestants lined up at the correct height and waited for the judges to give the signal. Then one after the other they flew over the pool and dropped their rocks, hoping to make a splash.

Even at this height some of them were eliminated from the competition. The successful ones were called down to the ground to collect another rock, while the chief raised the height for the next run to one thousand feet.

Cyril was one of the first to fail at this height, but he had great hopes for the next event which was to be a race round the island. He quietly went off on his own to practice.

He’d had an idea that he wanted to try out and now was an ideal opportunity to see if it would increase his speed. Most of the other dragons were watching the bombing competition, but he went over to the other side of the island just in case anyone saw what he hoped to do.

Clarence had survived to the fourth round of the bombing competition and was flying wearily up to two thousand feet with his chosen rock. It seemed to be getting heavier by the second.

He gratefully let go when his name was called by the judge at this height and was not too surprised to be told that he’d missed the pool altogether. The competition favoured the larger stronger dragons and he felt he’d done fairly well to get this far.

“That was a good effort,” said Megan when he landed, “only just missed the pool that last shot. Terrible some of the others! You have a good rest now ready for the flaming the day after tomorrow.”

Cyril came back to the beach just as it was getting dark. A great heap of brushwood had been collected just above the high water mark and was burning brightly as he approached.

It was nearly time for the younger dragons to go to bed for the night and as usual, when there was a large meeting such as this, they were having a singsong round the campfire.

The sound of one of their favourites, ‘Ten Green Dragons’, greeted him as he backwinged to land just outside the circle of youngsters.

“Bit old for this now aren’t you!” said Megan, “I suppose you’ll have been off round the island for a bit of a practice?”

Cyril just grinned. “You’ll have to wait till tomorrow Aunty Megan.”

Once the singing was over and the babies had gone up to the crater for a good nights sleep, the older dragons settled round the fire in their turn, to discuss the next day’s programme and talk about the ‘good old days.’