"You're too weak to do much," replied Tom. "You just keep on the lookout, and tell us if they try any surprises. I guess we can handle 'em all right."
With shouts and yells the big men came on. Evidently their indifference toward their captives had turned to anger because of the freeing of Poddington, and now they were determined to use harsh measures. They advanced with wild yells, brandishing their clubs and other weapons, while the weird sound of the tom-toms and natives drums added to the din.
When a short distance from the hut the giants stopped, and began firing arrows and darts from the blow guns.
"Look out for those!" warned Tom. "They probably are poisoned, and a scratch may mean death. Give 'em a few shots now, Ned and Mr. Damon! Rad, give 'em a salute, but fire high!"
"Dat's what I will, Massa Tom!"
The gun of the colored man barked out a noisy welcome, and, at the same time three giants fell, stunned by the electric bullets, for the rifles were adjusted to send out only mild charges.
Thrice they charged, and each time they were driven back, and then, finding that the captives were ever ready for them, they gave up the attempt to overwhelm them, and hurried away, many going into the king's hut. His royal majesty did not show himself during the fight.
"Well, I guess they won't try that right away again," remarked Tom, as he saw the stunned giants slowly arouse themselves and crawl away. "We've taught them a lesson."
They felt better after that, and then, when they had eaten and drank, they began to consider ways and means of escape. But Tom would not hear of going until he could get at least one giant for the circus.
"But you can't!" insisted Mr. Poddington.