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carried through Toenail, a hero!
    “Out of me way!” a villager shouted gruffly, shoving past him. A stampede of villagers followed on his heels.
    Wiglaf and Eric had to leap behind a boulder or be trampled as the whole crowd charged straight into the cave—straight for Gorzil’s hoard.
    As the two dragon hunters stood staring, a flash lit the sky. Wiglaf looked up just in time to see Surekill tumble from the clouds-down into a clump of weeds.
    “Nice try, Surekill,” said Wiglaf.

Chapter 9
    Did the villagers have to grab every last bit of Gorzil’s hoard?“ Eric grumbled.
    By this time, Eric had fetched his sword, and Wiglaf and Eric had found Gawain and Zelda and switched clothes again. Eric told Zelda he was sorry about the burned spots on her dress. But she was so loaded with gold, she did not seem to mind at all.
    Now Wiglaf and Eric were back on the path to DSA. This time Eric pulled the cart.
    “I am all for taking from the rich and giving to the poor,” Eric went on. “But could not the villagers have left us a few gold coins? How shall we ever face Mordred empty-handed?”
    “Gorzil stole from the villagers,” Wiglaf reminded him. “It seems only fair that they should get their gold back.”
    “I suppose,” muttered Eric. And with a sigh he dragged the cart over a rocky patch of ground.
    “Are you sure you want to pull the cart?” Wiglaf asked him.
    “It is the least I can do,” Eric told Wiglaf. “For in truth, you did slay the mighty drag on.”
    Wiglaf blushed on hearing Eric’s words. “I could never have done it without you, Eric,” he said. “It was a clever plan—and you surely fooled Gorzil into thinking you were a girl.”
    For a moment, Eric was silent. Then he stopped and turned to Wiglaf. “There is something I should like to tell you,” he said gravely.
    “Pray, tell,” Wiglaf answered.
    “‘Tis a secret,” Eric warned him. “Will you swear to keep it?”
    “I swear it on my sword,” Wiglaf promised. He lifted Surekill into the air.
    “My real name,” Eric told him, “is Erica.”
    “Egad!” Wiglaf exclaimed. “Your parents gave you a girl’s name?”
    “No! I am a girl, you ninny. In fact, I am a princess. Princess Erica, daughter of Queen Barb and King Ken.”
    Wiglaf’s mouth dropped open.
    “I always longed for a life of adventure,” Erica explained. “When I saw the notice for Dragon Slayers’ Academy, I begged my parents to let me go. At last they agreed. But when I arrived at school, Frypot said Mordred would never admit a girl. It was good old Frypot’s plan to dress me as a boy. He keeps my secret. And in return, I empty his eel traps.”

    “Zounds!” Wiglaf exclaimed. Then he added, “Forgive me, your highness.”
    “None of that highness stuff!” the princess growled. She drew her silvery sword and waved it at Wiglaf. “You must call me only Eric! And do not slip up! No one at school must know my secret. Not until I get my Dragon Slayers’ Academy diploma. If you tell anyone, I shall make you very, very sorry!”
    “I shall never say a word,” Wiglaf promised. “And if I do, you may tell my secret.”
    “Your secret?” asked Erica.
    “See this lucky rag tied to the hilt of my sword?” Wiglaf asked. “It is...uh...the last bit of my baby blanket.”
    Erica smiled. “Indeed! That is not something that you would want to get around.” She gave a yank to the cart handle and started down the path again.
    “Now,” Erica went on, “let us go over the story we shall tell back at DSA. Since we have no gold, we must make the most of our adventure.”
    “A fine idea,” Wiglaf agreed.
    “I think,” Erica began, “that we shall start by telling how I bravely lured Gorzil out of his cave. And how I scared him near to death when I brandished my silvery sword! Then, when he least expected it...”
    As Eric—make that Erica—talked on, Wiglaf let his own thoughts wander. He had become a hero—just as the minstrel had said he would.