“Up? Or down?”
“Dirks and daggers!” he exclaimed. Before him opened a yawning abyss. The deck had come abruptly to an end. Beyond the wide chasm began another deck, made, seemingly, of a single, tremendous board.
Dare-and-Do turned and ran toward the prow. Again the deck stopped before an abyss, beyond which another deck began. He understood now. There was no true deck at all,—simply a succession of immense planks laid at intervals from side to side.
Fear-and-Fly groaned. “Oh! Oh! Oh!” he screamed hoarsely. “It’s a giants’ ship, a giants’ ship, and the decks are their rowing-seats.”
Catch-and-Kill scratched his dirk remindingly across Fear-and-Fly’s throat. “Silence!” he hissed.
But Dare-and-Do caught his hand. “Dirks and daggers!” he cried. “But the coward’s right. It’s a giants’ ship. Look at the mast; look at the sail; look at the tiller there, far above our heads! A giants’ ship, and not one of the crew aboard! They won’t be back either, if I know giants. They’ve landed somewhere for their six months’ sleep. Here’s luck, luck, luck at last. We don’t have to capture the ship. We’ve got her!”
Catch-and-Kill looked up at the mammoth rigging. “Great luck!” he sneered. “Great luck! A ship you can’t move! A ship you can’t steer! I suppose you’ll set the sail; I suppose you’ll turn the tiller; I suppose you’ll sail her to the Gold Lands!”
Dare-and-Do came a step nearer. “Who wants the Gold Lands most?” he asked meaningly.
Catch-and-Kill started. “You don’t mean the King?” he cried.