The boy-giant caught up his wee comrade and ran as fast as he could toward the place where he had hid the balloon. The sounds of pursuit were close behind them. Into the woods Bob dashed and crashed; and soon he stood beside the air-vessel.
“Open the satchel and get me a gob-tab—quick!” he bellowed to Fitz, tossing him into the basket.
“A gob-tab?” squeaked Fitz.
“Yes—quick!”
“One won’t do you any good.”
“Huh!”
“No; you’ll have to take a half-dozen. Here they are.”
“Have I got to swallow all those pills?”
“Yes, down ’em—and be nimble about it.”
“Well, I won’t!”