"It can be done," Nixon said. "You're sure you understand the mechanisms, Loto?"
"Oh yes, yes."
Perched on the seated giant's upraised knee, Loto and Nona suddenly clutched at the huge folds of his trousers to keep from falling as the knee jerked. And Nixon's hand had gone up to his forehead—a sweep of wind that was like a little swirl of storm.
"What's the matter?" Loto demanded anxiously.
"I don't know," Nixon murmured. "I sure feel sick."
A wave of nausea and dizziness had swept him, convulsing his muscles. "This food I get here don't seem to agree with me," Nixon added. "Lately, I—"
He sucked in his breath as the inescapable thought came to him.
"Poison!" he gasped. "That's it! Poisoning me—those damned little—"
"Not so loud!" Loto murmured. "You're voice is a roar. It could be heard up there in the control room."
Poisoning the giant! His body was so tremendous that they could only give him enough to be slow-acting, making him gradually sick. Nona and Loto were aghast. More than ever now, this plan to free the giant and let him rule this world as Frane and the others would want it ruled, must succeed tonight.