The wise youth chuckled and strolled round the lake, glancing over his shoulder every now and then.
It was not long before he heard a bellow for help--the roar of a dragon in his throes.

Adrian placidly sat down on the grass, and fixed his eyes on the water.

There, as the roar was being repeated amid horrid resounding echoes, the wise youth mused in this wise-- "'The Fates are Jews with us when they delay a punishment,' says The Pilgrim's Scrip, or words to that effect.

The heavens evidently love Benson, seeing that he gets his punishment on the spot.

Master Ricky is a peppery young man.