“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.”