"Pa, there's a dragon in the barn," Boy said.

"What'd I tell you 'bout fibbin', Boy?" Pa said.

"Ain't no fib, Pa. I seen it with my own eyes."

Pa looked up from the exposed mechanical innards of the old green tractor. He pulled his cap off his head and mopped his brow, glanced up at the hot August sun, and he thought about this. Dragons, mind you, did not exist. But supposing they did, Pa reckoned it would be a mighty bad thing to have one roosting in your barn. He put his cap back on his head and nodded in that resolute way only a practical man can.

"Well, go on and take the General with you, and flush 'im out of there," Pa said. "Cain't be havin' no dragons in the barn."

"Yes, Pa," Boy said. The Boy ran off towards the house, whistling for the General. Pa fished a wrench out of his toolbox and ducked back under the hood of the old green tractor, but the Boy weren't gone ten minutes before he came right on back.

"Pa?" Boy said.

"Yeah, Boy?" Pa said, "You flush that dragon outta there like I tell you to?"

"I tried, Pa, but that dragon, he done run the General off."

Pa looked up from the tractor. Sure enough, the Boy was there but the General weren't nowhere to be seen. Pa scratched his beard. Now, mind you, Pa considered The General Robert Edward Lee to be the finest dog in the tri-county area. The General was a mean ol' son of a gun, but a good dog: loyal to his master, always followed orders, and not the type to shy easily, dragon or no dragon. Something weren't right, Pa decided.

"Awright, let's go find the General and have a look at this here dragon," Pa said, laying down his wrench. The tractor could wait – durn thing'd been sitting in the side yard for weeks, one more day of rusting wouldn't hurt it.

After a half an hour of whistling and calling, "Here, General! Hey, General!" Pa and Boy found the General hiding way down under the porch. Fifteen minutes later, the dog still wouldn't come out, and Pa was getting impatient – ain't nothing make a practical man impatient like a dog that won't do as he's told. Pa clapped the Boy on the shoulder.

"Boy, shimmy down in there and bring that dog up. Ain't got time for this today," Pa said.

"Yes, Pa," the Boy said, rolling up his sleeves. He scooted in underneath the porch on his belly, and Pa leaned against one of the porch's wooden posts. The Boy emerged a few minutes later, half-pulling, half-pushing a whining, shivering old coon dog. Pa grabbed the General's collar while Boy extricated himself and dusted off.

The General continued to whimper and try to pull away and Pa shaking his head in disbelief.

"Now what in tarnation you think's gotten into him? Come on, General! Git yourself together!" Pa asked, giving the dog a shake by the collar.

"I told you, Pa," Boy said. "T'were that dragon in the barn what spooked him."

"Ain't no such thing as dragons, Boy," Pa said.

"Tell that to the one roostin' in the barn, Pa," Boy said.

"Don't you get smart with me, Boy. I'll pop you into next week."

"Sorry, Pa."

Pa gave an exasperated sigh – not the sigh of a defeated or a depressed man, mind you, but the sigh of a practical man, the sort that knows there are some things best not left to boys and dogs, things that a practical man ought take into his own hands. He slapped the General on the side and released the dog's collar; the General's paws scrambled in the dirt when he darted back under the porch.

Pa stood up, dusted off his hands, and pulled his cap low on his head, then he turned on his heel and marched towards the barn. Boy followed, trotting along a step behind.

"Now, Boy, I'm gonna show you that there ain't no such thing as dragons," Pa said, reaching for the barn door. He grasped the wooden handle and gave it a good tug. The door swung open.

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