Free The Dragons of Blueland by Ruth Stiles Gannett

 
     
    Chapter One
    THE HIDING PLACE
    Over the harbor, past the lighthouse, away from Nevergreen City flew the happy baby dragon. "I'm on my way home to the great high mountains of Blueland!" he shouted to the evening skies. "At last I'm off to find my six sisters and seven brothers, and my dear gigantic mother and father."
    He sped northward over the coast of Popsicornia. He flew all night through the dark scudding clouds toward Awful Desert, which surrounded the mountains of Blueland. "I must be careful," he thought to himself, "that nobody sees me on my way, but I'll have to stop and rest somewhere. Where can I hide? I've grown as big as a buffalo, and my blue-and-yellow stripes and gold-colored wings will certainly attract attention."

    The darkness faded into morning, and looking down he saw green meadows, fields of corn and potatoes, a road wandering past barns and houses, and a brook zigzagging back and forth across the road. "Perhaps I can find a bridge to hide under," thought the dragon, "but I'll have to hurry. Soon the farmers will be up."
    He swooped, and coasted down to a place where the road crossed the brook. Gently he landed and pattered down the bank to hide underneath the bridge. But there wasn't any bridge! The road had been built right over the brook, and the water flowed under the road through a culvert, a long round tunnel. And the culvert was too small for a dragon to hide in.

    "I'll try another crossing," he said to himself, scrambling up the bank, and galloping down the road as fast as he could to the next crossing. But here, too, a very small culvert carried the water under the road.
    "Oh dear, oh dear!" he muttered as he galloped on farther between a yellow farmhouse and a big yellow barn. Just as he was passing he heard a rooster scream and a window slam shut in the house. "Where shall I hide? Where shall I hide?" he panted.

    And then he came to a third crossing. He tumbled down the bank and found another culvert, but a big culvert, big enough for a baby dragon to hide in. He crawled inside, wading through shallow water that cooled his hot, sandy feet.
    "What if someone in the farmhouse saw me^ he kept thinking as he stretched just far enough to nibble the tasty skunk cabbages and marsh marigolds growing outside the culvert. And then as he ate and cooled off, he felt tired and happy and almost safe, and he dozed off to sleep in the culvert.

 
     

    Chapter Two
    MR. AND MRS. WAGONWHEEL
    But someone had seen the dragon. At least he was sure he'd seen something blue and yellow and gold galloping down the road. It was Mr. Wagonwheel, the farmer living in the yellow farmhouse, who had just been closing his window as the dragon ran past.
    "What's that galloping noise?" asked Mrs. Wagon- wheel, sitting up in bed.
    "A large blue monster just ran by, and after breakfast I'm going to find out all about it!" yelled Mr.
    Wagonwheel, jumping into his clothes and rushing off to put the cows in the barn for milking.
    Mrs. Wagonwheel, meanwhile, made pancakes and coffee, but forgot to boil the eggs. She was horribly upset at the thought of a monster rushing past her house at five o'clock in the morning.
    Mr. Wagonwheel hurried through the milking, let the cows into the pasture, and dashed back to the kitchen. He was anxious to eat and be off after the Blue Demon, as he had decided to call whatever it was. He swallowed a pancake whole and banged two eggs on the side of his cup.
    Splop! Raw egg flew all over the table and Mr. Wagonwheel. Mrs. Wagonwheel had forgotten to boil the eggs, of course.
    "Martha! What's the matter with you?" yelled Mr. Wagonwheel.
    "Oh, I'm sorry," said poor Mrs. Wagonwheel. "I'm so upset about that horrible monster I don't know what I'm doing," and she nervously slipped a pancake instead of her handkerchief into her apron pocket.

    "Well, boil more eggs!" roared Mr. Wagonwheel, going to the sink to wash off his face and hands and shirt and overalls.
    Now Mr. Wagonwheel liked his eggs