“Look at it leaping around!” exclaimed Maria; she too was now enthralled by this show of cruelty. In the agony of its wound the animal had started to jump around in anguished circles. It drew its shattered leg after it, leaving a trail of black liquid on the gravel.
At last the reptile managed to reach the goat and to seize it with its teeth. It was about to turn round when Gerol, to advertise his own daring, went right up to it and shot it in the head from about six feet away.
A sort of whistling sound came from its jaws; and it was as though it were trying to control itself, to repress its anger, not to make as much noise as it could, as though some incentive unknown to mere men were causing it to keep its temper. The bullet from the rifle had hit it in the eye. After firing the shot Count Gerol drew back promptly and waited for it to collapse. But it didn’t collapse, the spark of life within it seemed as persistent as a fire fed by pitch. The ball of lead lodged firmly in its eye, the monster calmly proceeded to devour the goat and its neck swelled like rubber as the gigantic mouthfuls went down. Then it went back to the foot of the rocks and began to climb up the rock face beside the cave. It climbed with difficulty, as the earth kept giving way beneath its feet, but it was obviously seeking a way of escape. Above it was an arch of clear, pale sky; the sun dried up the trails of blood almost immediately.
“It’s like a cockroach in a basin,” muttered Andronico to himself.
“What did you say?” inquired his wife.
“Nothing, nothing,” he replied.
“I wonder why it doesn’t go into its cave,” remarked Professor Inghirami, calmly noting all the scientific aspects of the scene.
“It’s probably afraid of being trapped,” suggested Fusti.
“But it must be completed stunned. And I very much doubt whether a Ceratosaurus is capable of such reasoning. A Ceratosaurus . . .”
“It’s not a Ceratosaurus,” objected Fusti. “I’ve restored several for museums, but they don’t look like that. Where are the spines on its tail?”
“It keeps them hidden,” replied Inghirami. “Look at that swollen abdomen. It tucks its tail underneath and that’s why they can’t be seen.”
As they were talking one of the hunters, the one who had fired the shot with the culverin, came running hurriedly toward the terrace where Andronico was, with the evident intention of leaving.
“Where are you going?” shouted Gerol. “Stay in your position until we’ve finished.”
“I’m going,” the hunter answered firmly. “I don’t like it. This isn’t what I call hunting.”
“What do you mean? That you’re afraid? Is that it?”
“No, sir, I’m not afraid.”
“You’re afraid, I tell you, or you’d stay in your place.”
“No, I’m not. But you, sir, should be ashamed of yourself.”
“Ashamed of myself?” cursed Martino Gerol. “You young swine. You’re from Palissano, I suppose, and a coward. Get away before I teach you a lesson.”
“And where are you off to now, Beppi?” he shouted again, seeing another hunter moving off.
“I’m going too, sir. I don’t want to be involved in this horrible business.”
“Cowards!” shrieked Gerol. “Cowards, you’d pay for this if I could get at you!”
“It isn’t fear, sir,” repeated the second hunter. “It’s not fear. But this will end badly, you’ll see.”
“I’ll show you how it’ll end right now!” And seizing a stone from the ground, the Count hurled it at the hunter with all his force. But it missed.
There was a few moments’ pause while the dragon scrambled about on the rock without managing to climb any higher. Earth and stones gave way and forced him back to his starting point. Apart from the sound of falling stones, there was silence.
Then Andronico spoke. “How much longer is this going to go on?” he shouted to Gerol. “It’s fearfully hot. Finish off the animal once and for all, can’t you? Why torture it like that, even if it is a dragon?”
“It’s not my fault,” answered Gerol, annoyed, “can’t you see that it’s refusing to die? It’s got a bullet in its skull and it’s more lively than ever.”
He stopped speaking as the young man they had seen earlier came over the brow of the rock with another goat over his shoulders. Amazed at the sight of the men, their weapons, at the traces of blood and above all the dragon (which he had never seen out of its cave) struggling on the rocks, he had stood still in his tracks and was staring at the whole strange scene.
“Oy! Young man!” shouted Gerol. “How much do you want for that goat?”
“Nothing, I can’t sell it!” he replied. “I wouldn’t give it you for its weight in gold. But what have you done to the dragon?” he added, narrowing his eyes to look at the bloodstained monster.
“We’re here to settle the matter once and for all. You should be pleased. No more goats from tomorrow.”
“Why not?”
“Because the dragon will be dead,” replied the Count, smiling.
“But you can’t . . . you can’t do that,” exclaimed the young man in terror.
“Don’t you start too,” shouted Gerol. “Give me that goat at once.”
“I said no,” the young man answered firmly, drawing back.
“Good God!” The Count rushed at him, punched him full in the face, seized the goat from his back and threw him to the ground.
“You’ll regret this one day, I tell you, you see if you don’t,” swore the young man quietly as he picked himself up, not daring to react more aggressively.
But Count Gerol had turned his back on him.
But now the whole valley basin was ablaze with the sun’s heat and the glare from the yellow scree, the rocks, the stones and the scree again was such that they could hardly keep their eyes open; there was nothing, absolutely nothing, remotely restful to the eye.
Maria became more and more thirsty and drink gave
