The Dragonfly Pool

The party from Delderton had not expected a big turnout, but when it got about that the little creature who lay under their soil had freed their prince from a cruel and sadistic bully, a surprising number of people came to pay their respects—and with them came the stonemason and his family, for it had not been easy to inscribe the unusual poem in a foreign language neatly onto the gravestone and he wanted to make sure that all was well. He had been working to a deadline but now, as he removed the cloth that had been covering his handiwork, he knew that he had produced a masterpiece.

When news of Pom-Pom’s death reached Delderton, O’Hanrahan had organized an epitaph competition—and now Karil stepped up to the tombstone and while everyone bowed their heads respectfully, he read out the winning entry.

The Great Khan’s hunting dogs were proud

Their bite was fierce, their bark was loud

His horses always ran full throttle

But I was the Khan’s hot-water bottle.

There had been some doubt about the last line, but when it was put to the vote this was the poem that was judged the best and Kit flushed a modest pink, for the winning entry had been his.

Then from higher up the mountain there came the sound of “The Last Trump” played on Matteo’s sackbut—and realizing that nobody could have had a more fitting send-off, the mourners linked hands and ran down to the buses that were waiting to take them to the station—and home.