Its metal claws gleamed in the last of the daylight.

Its great mouth was open, and its breathing, as it slept, was like the sound of the sea on a rough night.
'Rise up, Sir Philip,' he said to himself, and walked along close to the dragon till he came to the middle part where the key was sticking out--which Mr.Perrin had thought was a piece of an old spear with which some one had once tried to kill the monster.
Philip fastened one end of his rope very securely to the key--how thankful he was that Helen had taught him to tie knots that were not granny-knots.

The dragon lay quite still, and went on breathing like a stormy sea.

Then the dragon-slayer fastened the other end of the rope to the main wall of the ruin which was very strong and firm, and then he went back to his tower as fast as he could and struck a match and lighted his Roman candle.
You see the idea?
It was really rather a clever one.

When the dragon woke it would find that it was held prisoner by the ropes.