When the airy rush of the winged horse had brought him within the distance of a hundred yards, the Chimaera gave a spring, and flung its huge, awkward, venomous, and utterly detestable carcass right upon poor Pegasus, clung round him with might and main, and tied up its snaky tail into a knot!  Up flew the aerial steed, higher, higher, higher, above the mountain-peak, above the clouds, and almost out of sight of the solid earth.  But still the earth-born monster kept its hold, and was borne upward, along with the creature of light and air.  Bellerophon, meanwhile, turning about, found himself face to face with the ugly grimness of the Chimaera’s visage, and could only avoid being scorched to death, or bitten right in twain, by holding up his shield.  Over the upper edge of the shield, he looked sternly into the savage eyes of the monster.

But the Chimaera was so mad and wild with pain that it did not guard itself so well as might else have been the case.  Perhaps, after all, the best way to fight a Chimaera is by getting as close to it as you can.  In its efforts to stick its horrible iron claws into its enemy the creature left its own breast quite exposed; and perceiving this, Bellerophon thrust his sword up to the hilt into its cruel heart.  Immediately the snaky tail untied its knot.  The monster let go its hold of Pegasus, and fell from that vast height downward; while the fire within its bosom, instead of being put out, burned fiercer than ever, and quickly began to consume the dead carcass.  Thus it fell out of the sky, all a-flame, and (it being nightfall before it reached the earth) was mistaken for a shooting star or a comet.  But, at early sunrise, some cottagers were going to their day’s labour, and saw, to their astonishment, that several acres of ground were strewn with black ashes.  In the middle of a field, there was a heap of whitened bones, a great deal higher than a haystack.  Nothing else was ever seen of the dreadful Chimaera!

And when Bellerophon had won the victory, he bent forward and kissed Pegasus, while the tears stood in his eyes.

“Back now, my beloved steed!” said he.  “Back to the Fountain of Pirene!”

Pegasus skimmed through the air, quicker than ever he did before, and reached the fountain in a very short time.  And there he found the old man leaning on his staff, and the country fellow watering his cow, and the pretty maiden filling her pitcher.

“I remember now,” quoth the old man, “I saw this winged horse once before, when I was quite a lad.  But he was ten times handsomer in those days.”

“I own a cart horse worth three of him!” said the country fellow.  “If this pony were mine, the first thing I should do would be to clip his wings!”

But the poor maiden said nothing, for she had always the luck to be afraid at the wrong time.  So she ran away, and let her pitcher tumble down, and broke it.

“Where is the gentle child,” asked Bellerophon, “who used to keep me company, and never lost his faith, and never was weary of gazing into the fountain?”