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Chapter 30: Dragon Isle

  “For there are three that bear record in heaven, the Father, the Word, and the Holy Ghost: and these three are one. And there are three that bear witness in earth, the spirit, and the water, and the blood: and these three agree in one.” 1 John 5:7-8

  Leagues later and fathoms further, the TrogDogJonah spotted an island to her south. Navigator Humphrey quickly checked his maps, and slowly scratched his head, and then anxiously wiped the sweat from his brow and ran to find the Admiral. “I think we should veer north. Like, now.”

  Bert, who had been talkin’ with the Admiral until the rude interruption, decided that justified being a little rude himself.103 “Um, guy,” he began, as he reached out and took the map from Humphrey and turned it upside down, “That island is south.”

  Rather than be drawn into a quarrel over his navigatorin’ skills, Humphrey simply held the map out for them, snapped a spot in the center, and warned pointedly, “Dragon Isle!”

  The troubled Admiral quickly recovered himself and started barking orders, calling all hands on deck, directing the turning of the sails, and muttering curses and prayers.

  Bert, calmly, told the Admiral to “Hold up.” He looked at the map again, and pointed out the great distance to the next landfall. (Even the islands and the coasts give Dragon Isle a wide berth.) “Do you think our food and water will hold out until then?” Since moving on from Midway, they had run into some doldrums and languished in the southern seas for quite some time, slaking their thirst more often than usual, and moving more slowly than they had planned. (“My mama told me to ‘Always drink lots of water on a hot day’,” Chains had pointed out wisely, to the assent of his Union Brothers, when the Admiral had thought to ration their water a little.) They had set up a euchre table on deck, and played cards for days, while waiting for the wind. It took its time.

  It’s hard to yell at the weather, so the Admiral was mostly blaming Luke--a convenient target because of his ‘mutiny’ early in the voyage on the whales’ behalf, his many mighty euchre victories all the way to Midway (even a reformed Hun will find a way to take your money somehow), and his constant Bible reading and prayer since, making them all self-conscious. Also because throughout the voyage, Luke, a hearty eater, continued to throw off the Admiral’s calculations for provisions! A little guiltily, the Admiral remembered that when he had last stocked the ship in Midway he had been banking on a couple sailors falling overboard. (“We’re due.”) So now he cursed their good fortune, and glared at Luke, and argued with Bert. “You’re saying stop at Dragon Isle for supplies? Unheard of! Quite literally. Because no one who has tried it has ever been heard from again!”

  The sailor Morel was nearby, and suggested dreamily “Maybe they just stay there! Maybe it’s an island paradise! Plenty of steak, lakes full of wine, beautiful maidens...” He was starting to get delirious from the heat.

  “Maybe. I would think we‘d be more likely to find a Dragon though,” Bert submitted, pleased to have a foil like Morel to help make him sound thoughtful and well-reasoned for once in his life. “It seems plausible on a place like Dragon Isle.”

  “Maybe he’s a good dragon!” Morel interrupted again. “With a comfortable couch. And lots of hockey cards to trade. And a really lousy euchre player! With lots of money to lose...”

  Bert continued to explain rationally to Jack: “But the presence of a dragon doesn’t equal certain doom. Going on without enough water does--unless we catch a magical gale or throw about six sailors overboard! Listen, dragons live inside, in caves and towers, and they sleep a lot. With any luck he’ll never even know we’re there! It’ll be like picking a flower from someone’s front yard while they’re asleep upstairs in the bedroom on the back side of the house. Besides,” he smiled, as he made his strongest closing argument, “I’m a rithk-taker. I take rithkth.”

  So the Admiral let Sly Bert be the one to take the risk, along with Luke the Double-Secret Super-Scout Warrior. They seemed the most qualified anyway, for getting away with it. They loaded empty water barrels into their longboat, strapped on cutlasses just in case104, got their grocery list from the Admiral, and rowed to shore. With quiet strokes. Shh.

  The island was large and lush. They beached at the opposite end from a forbidding looking cliff. “I’ll bet the dragon lives there,” Bert guessed. The rest of the island was nice. Splashy waterfalls, ferny clumps of foliage, lots of tropical trees, plenty of fruit and nuts. They even found a pretty little lake with sparkling water at the low end of the island, and wasted no time filling their barrels and rolling them back to the boat. Then they spread out a blanket, piled all kinds of fruit and coconuts and bananas on it, and carried it like a stretcher to their boat, where they wrapped it into a bundle. They realized they were ready to go.

  “Nothing to it,” Bert said proudly, surprised himself at how easy their smuggling had been. He got back into the boat. “Ready to go?” he asked, when Luke didn’t get in.

  “Not quite,” Luke said reluctantly. “Look, I hate to do this to you, but I want to check something out. Despite what the Admiral thinks, someone else has been here. A human person. When we were gathering fruit, I could tell that some had already been hand- picked recently. Then I started looking and I saw footprints.” Luke didn’t mention the familiar indentation he had spotted down the beach, about the size of a lunar-powered personal watercraft.

  “I’m not sure this is the time to be getting curious, Luke. We need to ‘make tracks’ ourselves.” But Luke still didn’t get into the boat, so there wasn’t much for Bert to do about it. Could try to wrestle him in... Yeah, that would be discreet. So, resignedly, “OK, I’ll wait right here. The guys in the ship will wonder, but what are they going to do, come get us? Hurry, take a quick look.” Bert figured if somehow Luke stirred up the dragon, he was safer there in a small boat in the shadow of the island than the large ship would be, on the open waters and easy to spot.

  Luke slipped inland and tried to pick up the trail. Wondering what mysteries, what artifacts, what terrors and fears might await him upon this mythical island.

  He didn’t have to wait long to find out. As he followed the footprints, reading the signs like a ranger, he found that their maker had paused in front of a rock wall on his right. Luke turned to see what was of interest there, and was startled to find an inscription, carved in stone: ‘Hear my cry, O God; attend unto my prayer. From the end of the earth will I cry unto thee, when my heart is overwhelmed: lead me to the rock that is higher than I.’

  Luke, who had been reading his Bible again quite often during the ship’s slow spell, recognized this from Psalms. His first reaction was a spine-shiver and suspicion, wondering how it had come to be here. But then his next reaction was peace and comfort, overwhelmed by the words. “Whatever has happened to my father, and whatever will happen to me here, God is in control of it,” he felt suddenly. A certain fearlessness came with it, and he proceeded.

  Not much further on, the Hun-heavy tread he was trailing showed a pause again, in front of a spreading tree. This time Luke’s first reaction was to step back, offended and sad, as he saw another message, written across the tree in what looked to be blood. ‘But if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship one with another, and the blood of Jesus Christ his Son cleanseth us from all sin.’

  After reading the special message, Luke felt better again. Not only did it remind him of all the good promises of eternal life, and further strengthen his fearlessness, but this time it aroused his curiosity too: he felt like he was getting closer to something amazing, and hurried on towards the next stop, murmuring to himself “Signs and Wonders!” Then he remembered Hosanna’s countersign, “Miracles and Blessings!” and said that too.

  He was getting closer to the dragon-end of the island, when the tracks suddenly led him out onto another beach. He wondered what had made his father (or whatever other visitor! Luke remembered to add hopefully) veer off course like that. Until he saw writing in the slight-damp sand,
as though someone had stooped and written. ‘The wind bloweth where it listeth, and thou hearest the sound thereof, but canst not tell whence it cometh, and whither it goeth: so is every one that is born of the Spirit.’

  But the actual footprints, Luke observed, stopped short of the message, around which was only tide-flattened sand. So who then had written it? A ghost? The wind? (The Spirit?) As if in answer, the wind blew again, and covered over what was written, leaving only the impression on Luke’s heart.

  The trail led back off the beach, through the reeds, and towards the rocky cliff with the tower on top. Just before the cliff, suddenly, Luke was surprised to see, hidden in the thick growth on his left, a tiny building, a miniature church, a one-man chapel! No bigger than a mausoleum really, Luke decided, and then shuddered and wished he could take that thought back. Then he saw the name of the church, written over the doorway, and managed a weak smile. “LAST CHANCE CHURCH”, someone had written. Luke wondered a little, with admiration, who had gone to all the trouble to build it here. It might always have been there, even before the dragon--in which case the ‘Last Chance’ might simply be a general reminder to remember God before it’s too late. But given the slapdash construction--a plank roof over plain gray walls of cinderblocks and mortar--Luke preferred to think some brave missionary had risked their life to bring a Christian witness to Dragon Isle, so those few foolish thieves going to their death would have a last chance to change their mind, or to at least go shriven.

  One hates to see good work go in vain, thought Luke, and went in.

  Wasn’t much there. A cross on the wall. A hymnal. One pew. A hand-written copy of the New Testament. (No sense writing out the whole Bible, for the few who would ever see it. That might have delayed the missionary’s work on Big Bear Point, in Mean Monster Swamp, or on Cyclops Peninsula, Luke speculated. And certainly one should like to find a Sanctuary before entering the haunted fens of the Wild Wilkie of the West, or upon fleeing from the Cobra Kai dojo.) Luke had no time to sing or read, but did take a knee and offer a quick prayer. A quick “Thank You for the messages”, a worried “If it’s not too late, somehow make my father safe,” and while he was at it, a “How ’bout keeping me safe too, so I can get out of here and finish learning what you want me to learn, going where you want me to go, being who you want me to be. Please?”

  You’re supposed to end prayers with Amen, but Luke hadn’t had much training. “All right-y then,” he concluded, and put his white rawhide Stetson back on, went outside, and started climbin’ the cliff.

  Midway to the top, Luke saw something that first made him smile and then made him fret. It was the crust left behind after someone had eaten the sandwich away. “Kings Do Not Eat Crusts”, Chief Otis had once proclaimed grandly, when Luke’s mother had accused him of being a picky eater.

  “Only a Hun would stop for a sandwich on his way to battle a dragon!” Luke noted lovingly. Then a wave of pre-grief shook him, and he hurried on to find out the result of the battle.

  Reaching the top of the cliff, Luke paused outside the door to the dark hard tower. “Now what?” he wondered. Go in, sword drawn, the avenger of blood? Try to sneak in and see what had happened, and then sneak up on the sleeping dragon if it deserved it? Or turn back and save his own life? Luke ran down the list of options in his head, and then settled on the one that would serve him best, the one the stone wall had suggested: “God is in control.”

  Luke knocked politely, and announced himself. “Luke the Hun. I come in peace.” He waited for the voice to say Come In, and in he went.

  The bottom floor of the tower had been turned into a living quarters. Luke assumed the top floors were the treasure-stores, doubtless piled high with gold coins, cups, trophies and medallions. (Dragons don’t like climbing up and down stairs every time they need a drink of water or a muffin from the pantry.) There was a big gold dragon in front of him, lazing on a comfortable couch, as Morel had predicted. It started giving instructions.

  “Show me your palms.” Confused, Luke held his hands up in the air for the dragon to inspect. “Ah, sweaty,” the Dragon noted. “Nervous?” Luke gave a little shrug and a little nod. “Now take a paper towel from the roll on your right,” the Dragon commanded. Luke hadn’t even noticed the wall-mounted dispenser at first.It comforted him a little. At least this dragon was kinda domesticated. Luke took a paper towel, dried his hands with it, and disposed of it neatly in the accompanying wastepaper receptacle. “Now take another,” the Dragon stopped him. “And wipe the hilt of your sword.” Catching on, Luke slowly tore off another, and rubbed the paper towel on the hilt of his cutlass, trying desperately to remember if he had placed his hand on his sword while deliberating outside the door. “Show.” The Dragon demanded. Luke held out the paper towel. Thankfully, it was dry. “Ah, you really have come in peace!” The Dragon sounded like it was warming up a little. “Luke the Hun you said?”

  “At your service.”

  “Daniel Speedboy. (I have fast hands)” the Dragon explained, giving a little 1-2 swat at the air with its talons to show off. At long last the Dragon reciprocated, “At yours. So, why have you come?”

  Luke had to think about that for a second. Hmm. Can’t say you’re there to wreak vengeance. Could compliment his treasures but he might think you covet them. Could ask if he has seen your father but it might sound like an accusation. One hates to say anything inflammatory to a dragon.

  While Luke was thinking about how to respond, the Dragon went ahead and launched into a story, a parable obviously designed as a warning. Luke realized they still weren’t really friends, and a cold note in the Dragon’s voice made him wonder if they ever would be, or if the Dragon was merely playing with its food...

  The Story of the Three Princes and the Dragon

  Once upon a time, there lived a kindly King, named Salvatore Silverbelly, in a peaceful and prosperous kingdom. But he grew old, and he had no sons as heirs. Ever since he had grown old and impotent, speculation and intrigues had been hatched, as to who should rule the kingdom.

  Happy to provide a solution, a helpful Dragon arrived, and proclaimed, I shall rule the kingdom!

  Well, then the intrigues and plots began to be hatched against the Dragon! You see how people are. Ingrates.

  The King came up with a plan to solve both of his problems at a single blow. He had three annoying nephews, Andrushek Bonebelly, Raoul Rockbelly, and Federico Featherbelly, who were equally in line for the throne. The decree was given to them: “Whichever of you slays the dragon first shall rule my again-peaceful and once-more-prosperous kingdom, in my stead.” It sounded like a fair proposal. But nobody had seen fit to consult the Dragon. Bigots.

  Well, that set things moving. The eldest nephew, Andrushek Boooonebellyyyy, was a famous knight, well-burnished and bright. He did some quick, confident calculations and decided, the best way to be the first one to slay the dragon, is to be the first one to attack the dragon! So that very day he strapped on his Kevmantium armor, took his shining shield, his piercing lance, and the famed magical sword Dragenhoffer, and rode his sturdiest charger to the foot of the Dragon’s Cliff. It was then that he realized that he couldn’t climb very well in armor. He made it about halfway up the rocky trail, perspiring like the very first fish that sweated out the oceans, toiling like the first man who shoveled in all the land. He paused and panted and climbed and panted and paused, until finally, having seen enough, the helpful Dragon swooped down from above, seized the metal-plated man in his hard claws, and said, “Here, I shall carry you the rest of the way myself.” Up towards the top of the cliff they soared. But the eldest nephew was a violent and unstable man, and he began to hack at the Dragon’s legs with his blade! You see how people are. Wretches. Well, you mustn’t stab the hand that carries you. Down fell the Knight, Pow-Crumple-Ouch, and his sword lay broken, his armor lay smashed, his body lay shattered. Weakling.

  The second nephew, Raoul Rockbelly, was at least as formidable and fearsome as his cousin, and almost as
impatient. He thanked his good fortune that his armor had been in the shop getting polished that first day, or it would have been him on the rocks. After seeing that weapons and strength were ineffective against the mighty Dragon, he thought it meet to try subterfuge and speed instead. He spent seven minutes or so concocting a plan, and then the first night, he too began his assault. Once it was dark, he snuck down to the Dragon’s Cliff, and went up a different way, in case the dragon was watching the first route. With ropes and a grappling hook, wires, pulleys and a pocket hang-glider, somehow the second nephew made his way to the top of the cliff, and then scaled the tower and went in at a window. With no armor, no shield, and only the special-sharp all-kinds-of-nasty assassin’s dagger Dunwithya, the stealthy night stalker prowled from room to room searching for his quarry. Finally, the ever-so-thoughtful Dragon realized that this poor gentleman in his tower must simply have lost his way, because people can’t see well in the dark like dragons can. So, “Here, have some light,” the generous Dragon supplied, breathing some fire to light up the night. But sadly, not only had the second nephew lost his way in the dark, but he had forgotten the old saw about ‘Never wear flammable clothing around sources of ignition.’ The Dragon, eager to make up for this mistake, snatched the second burning nephew and carried him out to sea, and dropped him in the kind, cooling waters. But perhaps his sharp talons had clutched the unarmored man a little too tightly (“just trying to get a good grip”), or perhaps the second nephew was just not as good at swimming as he was at climbing (“I didn’t take him that many miles out”, In any case, he was never seen again.

  After witnessing his first cousin’s fate, and hearing rumors of his second cousin’s demise, the king’s youngest and most meager nephew, Federico Featherbelly, was in no great hurry to vie for the throne. “I’ve always wanted to be a dentist anyway, actually,” he was heard to say. But shame is a more powerful motivator than greed, lust or envy, and eventually the mutterings of the population made him resign himself to his doom. He strapped on his wooden sword (“It has served me well since I was a child)”, and packed his dentist’s tools in his backpack, as a future source of livelihood in some distant country perhaps, on the odd chance that he might chicken out. (“It’s been known to happen”.) Well, poor Federico Featherbelly wasn’t much of an adventurer, and after walking half a mile towards the cliff, he was getting hungry already. So it was, that when a playing child said to him, “Cool sword!” he gladly swapped it for the child’s cheese sandwich. He ate half the sandwich, then saved the other half because it would probably be a long trip to a distant country. Can’t fight the dragon without that wooden sword, after all, so away we go. But the poor youth wasn’t much of a map-reader, either, and somehow while evacuating himself to a distant country he wound up losing his bearings and knocking at the door of a “friendly-looking tower” for directions. When the dragon opened the door, Federico Featherbelly was flabbergasted.

  “How may I help you?” asked the polite dragon.

  Panicked, and not knowing what else to do, the youngest nephew offered the dragon the other half of his cheese sandwich, and said simply, “Here, I brought you this.” Well, anyone who is sent to slay you and instead brings you a cheese sandwich, has the makings of a friend. So they talked like friends; the good-hearted Dragon was apologetic about the misunderstandings with the first two gentlemen, and they discussed their mutual dilemmas. “I can’t go back and claim the kingdom because you’re here,” Federico explained honestly.

  “I’m only here because of my own problems,” the Dragon explained. “Gotta wicked toothache. I thought if I did a good job ruling this up-for-grabs kingdom, the people would learn to trust me. Without trust, well, what dentist is going to aid me, when I ask them to stick their head in my mouth? ‘Yeah, the one in back...just a little further.’ Would you?”

  “I would if we were friends,” Federico Featherbelly assured him, and then startled the Dragon by taking out his dental tools and giving a surprisingly good zinc and copper filling. (Everybody’s good at something.) Fair’s fair, a deal’s a deal, so the honorable Dragon put the youth on his shoulders, and flew him back to the courtyard, told all the people what had happened, and promised to return to his own island forever. Whereupon all the people cheered, the sentimental Dragon got a tear in his eye knowing they finally liked him, they really liked him! and off he flew.”

  “And here I am,” the Dragon concluded, as he swung his front legs off the couch and onto the floor, and started to stretch forward as though he might advance. “You got a cheese sandwich for me?”

  Luke had never in his life wished so hard for a cheese sandwich. “No, no sandwich,” he admitted. “But I’d give it to you if I had one!”

  “Would you? Well, it’s the thought that counts,” the Dragon acknowledged, and sank back onto his couch. Then he asked, “So, do you know what the moral of the story is?”

  Luke thought quickly. “Well, after the first two princes failed, I considered the verse, ‘The race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong’, but then after the third prince won the kingdom, ‘The meek shall inherit the earth’ seemed to work.

  The Dragon gave a sardonic smile, and said wryly, “And here I was thinkin’ it was something as simple as ‘Don’t mess with dragons’. But, if you’re going to look to the Bible for a conclusion, why not this one? ‘He who would be a friend must first show himself friendly’” Then he complimented Luke, “You’ve done all right at that, so far. You may leave intact.”

  But Luke didn’t leave. He still had to find out about his father. At first he had been reluctant to ask for fear of provoking the Dragon... now he was reluctant to ask for fear of the answer! He had noticed fresh blood on the floor, as he scanned the area while the Dragon was talking. So instead he asked, hoping a positive answer would reassure him of his father’s safety, “Are you a Christian?”

  The Dragon was a little surprised by this question, but answered honestly, though indirectly. “I believe that God created us, and sustains us--through every warm meal, every hot breath, every night and every morning. You could even call me a servant of God: I hoard the treasure so men won’t fight over it...”

  “If there is treasure, we fight over that. If there is none, we fight over the lack,” Luke observed sadly.

  The Dragon laughed, sputtering small flames. “And am I to blame for that?” Then the Dragon wondered why Luke had asked after his spiritual status: “But why do you ask?”

  “Well, your knowledge of the Bible for one thing...and the little church...”

  “Ah. I used to attend sometimes. A nomadic man named Paul built it for me, quite some time ago, on one of his voyages. But it’s really too small for me, and I can’t get around the local zoning ordinances to build an expansion...”

  Luke pressed on, curiously: “But also the strange writings all over your island!” Luke went on to explain about the verses he had seen carved in stone, signed in blood, and written in sand. The Dragon was quite interested by this account.

  “How intriguing! This is the first time in a great while that anyone has seen Scripture verses in all three! You must be very single-minded... or someone is looking out for you. One or the other. Because those messages are not the same for everyone who reads them. It’s more like, you see what you want to see. A lot of things in life are like that, actually,” the Dragon added, to minimize their magic; then grinned as he remembered, “The last guy who came here, for example: He sure must have liked money, coz he saw in the stone a page of hot stock tips. In blood was written, what was it? oh yes, what else: college football predictions. And drawn in the sand was an actual treasure map, pointing him to my tower! So along he came, knocked on the door, tapped his palm and said with a grin, ‘Give me all your treasure, pleeease!’”

  Luke’s heart fell. Who else could that be but his father? “What did you do to him?” Luke finally asked.

  “Why, we fought, of course. Even good Dragons reserve the right to self-defense.
I’ll tell you, I admired the old guy’s spirit though! Well past his prime, yet here he comes with his gnarled, knotty old muscles and a pair of brass knuckles and just starts punching away! No armor, just an undershirt! No vast armies, just one craven retainer who merely peeked through the window and drew pictures! (I did look quite dashing in his sketches I must say.) No shields, no swords, just an old fashioned donnybrook! Best fight I’ve had in ages!” Luke was starting to get angry as the Dragon laughed about the incident. He was just about to go for his sword and show Daniel Speedboy what fast really is, when the Dragon went on, just in time, “I decided, any guy that puts himself at a disadvantage like that, deserves a fair fight. So I didn’t use my fiery breath. Just kept it knuckle and claw the whole way. We fought for hours! A veritable saga! And eventually we called it a draw. I got a couple good swats in,” the Dragon said, indicating some of the blood on the floor, “But then, so did he! A worthy rival! Chipped a tooth I think, and also knocked that filling loose! I’ll have to go back and visit my friend, Featherbelly the First!” At least the Dragon was laughing about it.

  Luke felt like laughing too. He started to grow ecstatic, feeling as though his father had been lost, and now he had received him back from the dead. “A draw you say? So what happened then?”

  “Well, we ate some bacon , and then I tried to console him about not getting the treasure. (In the event of a draw, the champion retains the belt, after all. Plus I don’t think he wanted a rematch after he saw the way I cooked the bacon--it kind of showed him I had a little more gas in my tank, so to speak!) I told him, ‘Some things are more valuable than treasure’, and he says back to me, ‘A good fight, for example.’ Which wasn’t what I had in mind, but hey, so long as he went away happy...” the Dragon finished, getting happy himself as he remembered a friend.

  “So what did you have in mind, when you told him that?” Luke said curiously. He didn’t like loose ends.

  “Surely you must know. What would you rather have than treasure?”

  “Love,” Luke said first, wistfully remembering Jenny. Then remembered the rest of his quest, and added, “God.”

  “Ah, of course,” the Dragon acknowledged.

  “So where will I find them?” Luke asked, thinking if dragons are so good at hoarding treasure, they must first know where to find it...

  “If you find one, you find both,” the Dragon reminded him. Then he drew on Luke’s own experience: “Where is treasure usually hidden? It might be buried deep--in which case you have to dig down deep to uncover it. Or... it could be near at hand, right out in the open, so that it will be overlooked.” Luke nodded, thinking of occasions when conquered people had tried to fool the Huns with just that trick, putting their good pearls on toddlers so that they might be overlooked as toy jewelry, and so on. But a Hun always finds the treasure in the end. The Dragon was finishing: “But, what if it’s both at once? Down deep, and near at hand.”

  Luke added both words to his notes later, to remember the riddle by. “But how can it be both?” Luke puzzled. Logically, they seemed to contradict one another.

  “Ah. See? That’s what makes it a good hiding spot. But once you know, then you’ll Know. Y’know?” Then the Dragon laughed, and made a quick trip to the kitchen, returning with a square object wrapped in foil. “In the meantime, have a cheese sandwich! For the journey.”

  Luke thanked the Dragon, they said their good-byes, and he walked out the door with light steps: happy his father was still alive, and happy he was alive too!

  But as soon as he got outside the door, he got a scare again. There was Bert! Coming up the path with a macabre smirk and bloody sword drawn! “Put that away, quick! What if the dragon sees you?”

  “Well, that’s who I came for, after all,” Bert said defiantly. “Thought you might need some help in battle.”

  “No, he’s a class act. We talked. He gave me a cheese sandwich. Here,” Luke offered. Bert took it and started eatin’. Luke was impressed that Bert had come to his aid, and said so. “Greater love hath no man than this, that he lay down his life for his friends.”

  “What?” Bert acted surprised, and then downplayed it, like it was no big thing. “I wasn’t fixin’ to lay down any such thing, bro. We was gonna win! Besides, it takes a pretty good friend to give up his last cheese sandwich too. Even a stale rubbery one,” (chewing hard, and looking at it with concern.)

  “I’ll tell you the story sometime,” Luke said with a chuckle. “But how did you get blood on your sword?”

  “I figured I would do some hunting while you were gone. Give us an excuse for taking so long. I slew a boar. It’s in the boat. But then when you still weren’t back, I figured you must have come here.”

  Luke was nervous. “Slew a boar? That’s probably the Dragon’s personal food supply. Kind of like poaching. We better get out of here fast.”

  They hurried back through the jungle towards their boat. Luke had hoped to look at the three messages together, to see what they might see then, but they had to make a beeline. He did ask if Bert had seen them, though, as they jogged.

  “Oh yeah, there was something written in the sand over there: I was going to ask if you had written it. It was the entire poem, the one I told you about! ‘My father moved through dooms of love’.”

  Luke got a little chill. “Nope, not me. Must have been someone else.” He smiled, as he could see that then Bert was the one to get the chill. “Was there something written in blood, on a tree?” Luke prompted.

  “There was,” Bert acknowledged. But he didn’t say what. When Luke asked for more, Bert finally said, with an uncharacteristic seriousness, “We’ll just let that be a secret. Between me and Jesus.” Luke smiled a second time at that, thinking maybe his friend Bert had found what he needed to find too.

  “And on the stone wall?” Luke wondered.

  Bert became more like himself again, with a patented half-grin as he proudly proclaimed, “Knock-knock jokes! Good ones!”

  Luke wanted to find out what they were, so he tried to start: “Knock-knock.”

  “Who’s there?” Bert asked--and then Luke was stuck, and realized he had done it wrong. They had a laugh. “OK, Knock-knock,” Bert accommodated him.

  “Who’s there?”

  “Island.”

  “Island who?”

  “Isl- ’and you a box of Girl Scout cookies if you hand me THREE DOLLARS!” Palm stretched forth for effect, even. Luke groaned, and Bert went on to the next one. “Knock-knock.”

  “Who’s there?”

  “Dragon.”

  “Dragon who?”

  “D’ ragon is loaded, come hitch up the horses and let’s go!” Bert delivered the last punchline right as they reached their boat, so it seemed like a good one to speed them on their way. They hopped in the whaleboat, hitched up their own figurative horses, and hurried safely away from Dragon Isle.