Two giants stood triumphantly grinning down upon twenty pygmies.
“I don’t know,” the goblin-giant grumbled surlily.
“Well, can’t you think of some plan?”
“You’re the one, Roberty-Boberty, that’s making the plans this time.” And Fitz Mee grinned a grin that made his big fat face look simply awful.
“I know,” Bob admitted ruefully. “But won’t you help a fellow out, when he’s doing the best he can?”
“Say, Bob!”
“What?”—eagerly, expectantly.
“I’ll tell you what! We’ll have to take gob-tabs and go back to goblin size. Then the camels can carry us.”
“Yes, but we couldn’t manage the camels—couldn’t get on ’em, even,” the boy-giant objected. “Could we?”