The mayor and his officers and advisors heard the hub-bub and poured forth to ascertain the cause of it; and when the boy-giant arrived at the town’s place of public gathering, there they all were, yelling, screaming, shouting and gesticulating. Bob swung his big club and bellowed “boo! boo! boo!” as loud as he could; and the frightened people tumbled over one another in an effort to hurry to places of security. The mayor led the way, closely followed by his officers. All deserted the place but one old soldier. He ran at Bob, a rusty sword in his hand, and tried to hack the boy-giant’s legs; and the latter had to snatch the sword away from the pugnacious old warrior and take him across his knee and spank him soundly, before he would consent to behave. However, when at last the boy-giant set the old fellow upon the ground, he scampered away as fast as he could limp. “Oh, Bob—Bob!” Fitz Mee cried pipingly, piteously, a hint of tears in his voice. “I’m _so_ glad you’ve come. They had just decided to execute me at noon; and it wants only an hour of the time.” “A miss is as good as a mile, Fitz,” Bob laughed. “But we must get out of here before they recover their wits and their courage, and return; they might shoot us. My! but didn’t that old soldier want to fight? A few like him would have given me a lot of trouble. Well, here we go—for safety and a better country.” And he took the parrot cage containing the goblin under arm, and made a hurried retreat from the village. CHAPTER VI LOST IN THE DESERT As Bob moved rapidly along the country road, bearing his comrade in the parrot cage, he could hear the sounds of clamor and pursuit behind him—the barking of dogs, the confused shouting and yelling of men, and the booming and cracking of fire-arms. “Hurry, Bob, hurry!” squeaked Fitz Mee. “They’re after us!” [Illustration] “Yes, but their legs are too short,” Bob chuckled; “they won’t catch us. Don’t you worry, my teenty-weenty green frog, the naughty men shan’t hurt you.” And he held the parrot cage up in front of him, and with his finger playfully poked Fitz Mee in the ribs. “Quit that!” croaked the goblin. “And don’t you call me a green frog any more, either.” “Pretty little green monkey, that’s what it is!” Bob laughed, teasingly. “Shut up!” snapped Fitz. “Nice little green devil!” the boy-giant continued, shaking with laughter. “Shut up!” screeched the goblin. “Shut up, I say! I’ll scratch you; I’ll bite you!” “Sweet-tempered little green moon-man!” Bob persisted. “Look here, Bob Taylor!” Fitz cried, vexed and desperate. “If you don’t quit calling me names, I’ll—I’ll run off and leave you.” “All right,” the boy-giant returned placidly, “I’ll just set you down here in the road and let you run off.” And he suited his action to his words.