Dozens of winged shapes emerged from the darkened sky, swooping and circling around the blue house. In moments, Frog and his friends were surrounded by bragons of all different colours, shapes and sizes. They plunged through the air to land on the clifftop.
“I still say we’re wasting our time, by gosh,” whispered Nigel, clutching his pie.
All forty-eight bragons glanced uneasily at each other, no one daring to speak. At last one of their number stepped forward. He stroked a long white beard and beat his silver wings dramatically.
“Good day to you, inferiors! It has been a long time since any of you have been intimidated by my eminence!” he boomed. “Who here committed the deed? Who blew their summoning horn?”
“Not I!” bellowed a smaller bragon, spreading her four wings to reveal a dazzling array of blue feathers. “I am far too wondrous and sure-footed to need help from any of you!”
“Nor I!” boomed another. “I have done my best to avoid you all, lest my handsomeness make you weep with jealousy!”
“What is that glorious fragrance?” cried a third. “Why it’s me, smelling better than all of you!”
“Pray silence for the Regent of the Remarkable!”
“Behold, the Duchess of the Undaunted!”
“Call me Lord Quentin the Insurmountable!”
Soon, their booming boasts were so loud that the cliffs began to crack and crumble.
Frog drew his mighty sword.
“Bragons!” he shouted at the top of his voice, Basil Rathbone flashing in the moonlight. “I am The Mighty Frog, skilled-up champion and— Hey! Shut up your faces! This is important stuff!”
But not even Princess Rainbow, who was standing right next to him, could hear Frog’s cries.
“Hush! Bad braggins!” she squealed, putting her fingers in her ears at the sound of the bragons’ boasts.
“They’ll be filled up and flying off before you have a chance to be heard!” Kryl yelled, watching the bragons inflate. “We need to get their attention!”
“Should I blow something up? That usually helps!” shouted Frog, drawing his sunder-gun.
“No!” said Nigel. “There is only one way to stop a bragon bragging!”
“What did you say?” hollered Frog.
“I said, there’s only one way to stop a bragon… Never mind!” Nigel yelled. He strode towards the boasting beasts until he was directly in front of the old, silver bragon. “I’d rather hoped it wouldn’t come to this, by gosh,” he added with a sigh. Then he took a deep breath … and held out his pie. Suddenly, the bragons fell silent.
“What the … what?” muttered Frog.
“Is … is that what I think it is?” the silver bragon whispered at last.
“It’s humble pie!” cried the blue-feathered bragon. “Don’t—!”
But it was too late. Nigel closed his eyes, and shoved the pie into his mouth.
A gasp rang out from the bragons as they watched Nigel swallow the pie whole. There was a long moment of horrified anticipation, and then Nigel slowly opened his eyes. He looked down, patted his belly and breathed a long sigh of relief.
“You … you ate humble pie!” muttered the silver bragon. “Why didn’t you shrivel up like a raisin-berry?”
“What’s ‘humble pie’?” asked Frog.
“It’s a bragon legend, by golly,” explained the blue-feathered bragon. “It is said that if one bragon eats humble pie in front of another, he will shrivel and wither, never to inflate – never to fly – again! It is the most lowering thing a bragon can do.”
“I never had reason to test the theory until now,” said Nigel, picking pie out of his teeth. “But I knew it would be the only way to stop the bragons from boasting. It’s funny what impending doom does to you, by gosh…”
“Baa,” bleated Sheriff Explosion.
“Yoiks! Thanks, Nigel, that was risky business,” said Frog. “I knew I made the right choice making you second-best-in command.”
“I’m second!” cried the Princess. “I mean first! First!”