When the second bout started, Ridgwell noticed that there was something like a smile upon St. George's face, and he soon understood the reason of it. St. George had found out his adversary's weak spot.

The Griffin advancing with a rush upon his hind legs, with his front claws doubled up reaching high over St. George to pull him down, was brought to a sudden standstill.

There was a rapid sound of "Whack! whack! whack! whack!" four times.

St. George had hit the Griffin with the flat of his sword upon the most tender part of the Griffin's claws. The Griffin's mouth trembled.

"Whack! whack! whack! whack!" came four more swashing blows, whilst the Griffin hesitated. Then the Griffin broke down completely, and wept aloud bitterly.

"He's broken my knuckles," sobbed the Griffin.

"Do you give in?" asked the Lion.

"Oh yes," sobbed the Griffin. "Oh! my poor paws."

"Shall he chase you round the arena?" demanded the Lion.

"No," whimpered the Griffin; "I'll go home quietly."

Thereupon King Richard raised his sword and saluted to indicate that the fight was over, and followed by King Charles, who still swerved slightly to one side in his saddle, the two Kings rode out of the Square.

"Shake hands?" asked St. George of the Griffin, before he departed.

The Griffin shook his head dolefully instead, whilst great tears coursed down his cheeks.

"Oh no," sniffed the Griffin, "I don't think I shall ever shake hands again."

When everybody had gone, the Griffin slowly hobbled to his feet, and moving towards home, half sobbed and half sang in a way that was intensely comic--

"Oh! Temple Bar, Oh! Temple Bar, With broken knuckles you seem so far.

And all my claws are broken too; Oh! Temple Bar, what shall I do?

To _hit_ me with a sword held flat, 'Twas grim of George to think of that."

"Now you have seen the tournament," observed the Lion to Ridgwell, "I suppose you will have to get home somehow."

"Yes, please, Lal."

"And of course," said the Pleasant-Faced Lion, "you will want to come again."

"Rather," laughed Ridgwell.

"Well, to-morrow night there is a very different sort of entertainment.

I and the Statue folk are going to give an evening party, the grandest you have ever seen, or will ever be likely to see."

"Oh, Lal, can I come and bring Christine?"

"Who is Christine?" inquired the Lion, cautiously; "you know we cannot admit everybody."

"Christine is my little sister. At least," added Ridgwell, "Christine is older than I am, but she is little all the same."

"I see."

"And she would so enjoy it, Lal," pleaded Ridgwell.

"Very well," said the Lion, "both come just this once. Now for home.

Come," commanded the Lion, "jump up. I learned that common expression from the people who every moment of the day mount upon the horrid Buzz, Buzz, things."

"Don't you like the Motor Omnibuses then?"

"The Buzz Buzzes you mean, child. No, I dislike them intensely, they make such a noise both day and night that I cannot hear myself purr even. Jump up. Where do you want to go to?"

"To Balham, please, Lal."

"Ah, that's the man with the a.s.s, isn't it?" demanded the Lion.

For a moment Ridgwell looked quite shocked. "Oh no, Lal, you are thinking of Balaam."

"Spelt the same way," snapped the Lion, who did not like being corrected upon historical matters.

"No, Lal, there is an H in Balham and people never drop it."

"Glad to hear it," grunted the Lion. "I only wish the people who collect the pennies from the pa.s.sengers upon the Buzz Buzz things would say the same. Day by day," added the Lion in an aggrieved tone, "I hear them shout out the expressions--'Olloway, 'Igate, 'Arrow. The Board Schools," continued the Lion in his wisest tones, "are responsible for a most imperfect system of education."

"But, Lal," pleaded Ridgwell, "you will take me to Balham, won't you?

I do not know how I should get home if you didn't take me there."

"Yes," said the Lion, "of course, I shall take you home, but you mustn't come to see me too often, you know, it's outside the four-mile radius. However," concluded the Lion, "I shall follow the tram lines.

Jump up," once more commanded the Lion, "and hang on, because you know I go at a good pace when once started."

Whereupon Ridgwell clambered upon the Pleasant-Faced Lion's back, and convulsively hugging him half round his great neck, buried his head in the Lion's mane and shut his eyes, whilst the Lion took a bold jump from off his pedestal, and started in a brisk trot for Balham.

When they had arrived at their destination outside Ridgwell's home, the Lion stood in the road and wagged his tail contentedly.

"Thank you for bringing me home, Lal," said Ridgwell as he clambered off the Lion's back.

"Good-night," whispered the Lion hoa.r.s.ely, for after his long run he was almost out of breath. "Mind you close the hall door safely after you."

The Pleasant-Faced Lion, who appeared to be pleased at having brought his little charge home, stood in the road and purred quite loudly for some time.

But none of the neighbours, who heard the deep sound echoing through the quiet road, thought of looking out of the window. They merely believed the sound proceeded from some powerful motor car which had stopped in the vicinity.

Then the Pleasant-Faced Lion jogged home to his pedestal in Trafalgar Square, well pleased with his night's work.

CHAPTER II