Part 24 (1/2)

”Why, walk out when the sun sets and you're your right size. They can't do anything to us.”

Robert opened his eyes. ”Why, they'd nearly kill us,” he said, ”when they saw me get my right size. No, we must think of some other way. We _must_ be alone when the sun sets.”

”I know,” said Cyril briskly, and he went to the door, outside which Bill was smoking a clay pipe and talking in a low voice to 'Becca.

Cyril heard him say--”Good as havin' a fortune left you.”

”Look here,” said Cyril, ”you can let people come in again in a minute.

He's nearly finished tea. But he _must_ be left alone when the sun sets.

He's very queer at that time of day, and if he's worried I won't answer for the consequences.”

”Why--what comes over him?” asked Bill.

”I don't know; it's--it's sort of a _change_,” said Cyril candidly. ”He isn't at all like himself--you'd hardly know him. He's very queer indeed. Someone'll get hurt if he's not alone about sunset.” This was true.

”He'll pull round for the evening, I s'pose?”

”Oh yes--half an hour after sunset he'll be quite himself again.”

”Best humour him,” said the woman.

And so, at what Cyril judged was about half an hour before sunset, the tent was again closed ”whilst the giant gets his supper.”

The crowd was very merry about the giant's meals and their coming so close together.

”Well, he can pick a bit,” Bill owned. ”You see he has to eat hearty, being the size he is.”

Inside the tent the four children breathlessly arranged a plan of retreat.

”You go _now_,” said Cyril to the girls, ”and get along home as fast as you can. Oh, never mind the pony-cart; we'll get that to-morrow. Robert and I are dressed the same. We'll manage somehow, like Sydney Carton did. Only, you girls _must_ get out, or it's all no go. We can run, but you can't--whatever you may think. No, Jane, it's no good Robert going out and knocking people down. The police would follow him till he turned his proper size, and then arrest him like a shot. Go you must! If you don't, I'll never speak to you again. It was you got us into this mess really, hanging round people's legs the way you did this morning. _Go_, I tell you!”

And Jane and Anthea went.

”We're going home,” they said to Bill. ”We're leaving the giant with you. Be kind to him.” And that, as Anthea said afterwards, was very deceitful, but what were they to do?

When they had gone, Cyril went to Bill.

”Look here,” he said, ”he wants some ears of corn--there's some in the next field but one. I'll just run and get it. Oh, and he says can't you loop up the tent at the back a bit? He says he's stifling for a breath of air. I'll see no one peeps in at him. I'll cover him up, and he can take a nap while I go for the corn. He _will_ have it--there's no holding him when he gets like this.”

The giant was made comfortable with a heap of sacks and an old tarpaulin. The curtain was looped up, and the brothers were left alone.

They matured their plan in whispers. Outside, the merry-go-round blared out its comic tunes, screaming now and then to attract public notice.

Half a minute after the sun had set, a boy came out past Bill.

”I'm off for the corn,” he said, and mingled quickly with the crowd.

At the same instant a boy came out of the back of the tent past 'Becca, posted there as sentinel.