Bob laughed heartily; then listened intently, for the official was saying:
“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.”