But the Remora, hissing terribly, and visibly melting away in places, yet held his ground; and the prince could see his cold white folds climbing slowly up the hoofs of the Firedrake--up and up, till they reached his knees, and the great burning beast roared like a hundred bulls with the pain.

Then up the Firedrake leaped, and hovering on his fiery wings, he lighted in the midst of the Remora's back, and dashed into it with his horns.

But the flat, cruel head writhed backwards, and, slowly bending over on itself, the wounded Remora slid greedily to fasten again on the limbs of the Firedrake.
Meanwhile, the prince, safe on his hill, was lunching on the loaf and the cold tongue he had brought with him.
"Go it, Remora! Go it, Firedrake! you're gaining.

Give it him, Remora!" he shouted in the wildest excitement.
Nobody had ever seen such a battle; he had it all to himself, and he never enjoyed anything more.

He hated the Remora so much, that he almost wished the Firedrake could beat it; for the Firedrake was the more natural beast of the pair.