Free The Ghost of Sir Herbert Dungeonstone by Kate McMullan Page A

the heartwarming story of DSA’s founding. Students with poems?”
    Wiglaf, Angus, and Erica jumped up. So did Baldrick. Torblad came, too, carrying his trumpet.
    “Many years ago,” Mordred began, “inside the Dark Forest’s deepest cave lived the two meanest dragons in the world. On top of the Dark Forest’s highest hill lived the two meanest robbers in the world. Any wayfarer who wandered into the Dark Forest with a bag of gold wandered out empty-handed-if he was lucky enough to escape the fire-breathing dragons. Then one day, into the Dark Forest rode two bold knights.”
    Torblad put his trumpet to his lips and blew: TOOT TOOTY TOOT TOOT!!
    Erica stepped forward and, in a confident voice, began to read:
    “I am Sir Herbert Dungeonstone!
For doing great good deeds I’m known.
I slew two dragons in their cave.
They never more will flame or rave
Or bar-b-que poor passersby .
Oh, brave Sir Dungeonstone am I!”
    Erica stepped back. Angus cleared his throat.
    “I am Sir Ichabod Popquiz,
And slaying robbers is my biz .
I snuck up on their hilltop lair ,
And drew my sword and slew the pair!
I ran them through; that’s not so odd
For me, the brave Sir Ichabod!”
    Now it was Wiglaf’s turn. His hands were shaking as he held the piece of parchment.
    “The robbers’ lair was filled with loot,
Not that the good knights gave a hoot.
They didn’t care for treasure much,
For gold or gems or coins and such.
Still , it seemed unwise, unfair,
To leave the loot just lying there.
Sir Herbert said, ‘With just one jewel,
We might be bold and start a school!’
‘Oh, let’s!’ Sir Ichabod did say.
‘We’ll teach young lads the proper way
To slay vile dragons in their caves,
And set upon Dark Forest knaves!’ ”
    Torblad blew another blast on his trumpet: TOOT TOOTY TOOT TOOT!
    Baldrick stepped up. He wiped his runny nose on his sleeve and read:
    “That’s how our fair school came to be:
Dragon Slayers’ Academy!”
    “Bravo!” cried Lady Lobelia, jumping up.
    The yellow-haired daughter took out her gum and gave a loud whistle. TWEEEEEEET!
    “All right!” she called. “So, Mordred-when do we eat around here?”

Chapter 2
     
     
     
     
    T he dining hall grew still. Wiglaf froze. Students didn’t call the DSA headmaster Mordred. They called him sir! Would he send the girl to the dungeon...or worse?
    But Mordred only smiled. “Soon, my dear,” he said, “very soon. But first, Coach Plungett! Master X! Forward please!”
    The teachers began pushing two gleaming giant-sized statues of noble knights toward the head table.
    “Our founders!” cried Mordred. “The old statues of them were...lost in a terrible accident.” Mordred pretended to wipe a tear from his eye. “Now, here are brand-new statues of our noble founders, Sir Herbert Dungeonstone and Sir Ichabod Popquiz!”
    “Oh, puh-lease!” whispered Angus. “Like we don’t know the old statues were made of soap and got used up last Bath Day!”
    Wiglaf nodded. There was no mistaking Sir Herbert Dungeonstone, he thought, with his eye patch and his little, thin mustache.
    As the clapping died down, Erica raised her hand. Mordred motioned for her to put it down. If there was one thing he disliked, it was a student who asked questions. But Erica thought he had called on her.
    “Sir?” she said. “What happened to our noble founders after they founded DSA?”
    Mordred glared at Erica. “Ah, well, er—in time, Sir Herbert and Sir Ichabod grew too old to run DSA. They talked to thousands of worthy candidates. And they picked me to take over their good work. They retired to the Home for Aged Knights on a palm-tree covered island off the coast of Greece. They are very, very happy.” He smiled.
    SNAP! The yellow-haired girl snapped her gum.
    Once more, the room quieted.
    Students held their breath. Surely now Mordred would send her to the dungeon.
    But the DSA headmaster only chuckled. He glanced fondly at the girl and said, “Time to