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.