“My opinion is that these moon-men have come to bring a pestilence upon us, my children; and if we do not rid ourselves of them, we will suffer greatly. So I condemn them to death. This one that, by your great prowess and bravery, you have already captured, we will execute at sunset; and bury him with a great stone upon him, that he may know no resurrection. The other one must be captured. We must think of some plan to entice him within our reach. Let us adjourn to my official residence, there to consider the grave matter.” Soon the street was apparently deserted; but the boy could see guards peeping from places of concealment. “Bob!” Fitz Mee called softly. “Hello, Bob!” “Hello, Fitz!” the lad answered. “Come down and get me—quick!” “I don’t dare, Fitz; they’re watching.” “But you must get me out of this fix, Bob, somehow.” “Of course, Fitz. But how?” “Can’t you think of a plan? I’m so scared I _can’t_ think.” “I’ve thought of _one_ plan.” “What is it?” Bob gave a few strokes to the air-pump; and the balloon sank almost to the level of the treetops. Then the boy said, cautiously: “Fitz, do you hear me?” “Yes.” “Well, this is the plan I’ve thought of: I’ve found some giant-tabs in your portable pantry; and I think of taking one of them.” “That’s the thing,” Fitz interrupted gleefully. “You’re a genius, Bob.” “It won’t hurt me—the medicine, will it?” “Not a bit.” “Just make a giant of me?” “That’s all.” “And I can go back to boy size or goblin size, when I want to?” “Yes; all you’ll have to do is to take a few gob-tabs.” “Ugh! more pills. Well, all right; I’ll do it, then. I’ll make a giant of myself, and sail in and knock these Portuguese galley-west—and carry you off.” “Well, do it right now,” Fitz cried impatiently. “I can’t.” “Why can’t you?” peevishly. “I don’t dare take the giant-tabs till I’m upon the ground, you understand; my size would wreck the balloon. And I don’t dare to come to the ground, right here and right now; the Portuguese would capture me before I could do anything. See?” “Y-e-s,” Fitz Mee admitted, disappointment in his voice. “But what _are_ you going to do?” “I’m going over the hills out of sight, drop to the ground there, and hide the balloon, and then come back afoot.” “Well, don’t be very long about it, Bob.” “Oh! there’s no hurry. They don’t mean to kill you till sunset, Fitz.” “Well, do you think I want to stay cooped up here all day?” “You mustn’t get impatient, Fitzy,” the boy giggled. “You stop your laughing,” the goblin grumbled. “It isn’t funny.” “Isn’t it?” tauntingly. “No, it _isn’t_, Roberty-Boberty!” “Yeah—yeah! Old Epilepsy!” “Shut up!” “_You_ shut up!” “Say, Bob?” “What?” “You _will_ hurry, won’t you?” “Yes! But say, Fitz?” “Well?” “How is it that I can understand what these Portuguese say?” “Well, you know we goblins can understand any language.” “_We_ goblins?” the boy cried sharply. “Yes,” Fitz chuckled.