“What shall I do?” cried he aloud.  “It were better for me to have been devoured by the dragon, as my poor companions were.”

“Cadmus,” said a voice—­but whether it came from above or below him, or whether it spoke within his own breast, the young man could not tell—­“Cadmus, pluck out the dragon’s teeth, and plant them in the earth.”

This was a strange thing to do; nor was it very easy, I should imagine, to dig out all those deep-rooted fangs from the dead dragon’s jaws.  But Cadmus toiled and tugged, and after pounding the monstrous head almost to pieces with a great stone, he at last collected as many teeth as might have filled a bushel or two.  The next thing was to plant them.  This, likewise, was a tedious piece of work, especially as Cadmus was already exhausted with killing the dragon and knocking his head to pieces, and had nothing to dig the earth with, that I know of, unless it were his sword blade.  Finally, however, a sufficiently large tract of ground was turned up, and sown with this new kind of seed; although half of the dragon’s teeth still remained to be planted some other day.

Cadmus, quite out of breath, stood leaning upon his sword, and wondering what was to happen next.  He had waited but a few moments, when he began to see a sight, which was as great a marvel as the most marvellous thing I ever told you about.

The sun was shining slantwise over the field, and showed all the moist, dark soil just like any other newly planted piece of ground.  All at once, Cadmus fancied he saw something glisten very brightly, first at one spot, then at another, and then at a hundred and a thousand spots together.  Soon he perceived them to be the steel heads of spears, sprouting up everywhere like so many stalks of grain, and continually growing taller and taller.  Next appeared a vast number of bright sword blades, thrusting themselves up in the same way.  A moment afterward, the whole surface of the ground was broken up by a multitude of polished brass helmets, coming up like a crop of enormous beans.  So rapidly did they grow, that Cadmus now discerned the fierce countenance of a man beneath every one.  In short, before he had time to think what a wonderful affair it was, he beheld an abundant harvest of what looked like human beings, armed with helmets and breastplates, shields, swords and spears; and before they were well out of the earth, they brandished their weapons, and clashed them one against another, seeming to think, little while as they had yet lived, that they had wasted too much of life without a battle.  Every tooth of the dragon had produced one of these sons of deadly mischief.

Up sprouted, also, a great many trumpeters; and with the first breath that they drew, they put their brazen trumpets to their lips, and sounded a tremendous and ear-shattering blast; so that the whole space, just now so quiet and solitary, reverberated with the clash and clang of arms, the bray of warlike music, and the shouts of angry men.  So enraged did they all look, that Cadmus fully expected them to put the whole world to the sword.  How fortunate would it be for a great conqueror, if he could get a bushel of the dragon’s teeth to sow!