Damon, "some one is
running out of it. A white man, Tom! A white man!"
"It's Poddington! Poor Jake Poddington. We've found him at last!
This way, Mr. Poddington! This way! Mr. Preston sent us to rescue
you!" cried Tom.
CHAPTER XXI
A ROYAL CONSPIRACY
Howls of terror, cries of anger, and a rushing to and fro on the
part of the giants, followed the latest trick of Tom Swift to
impress them with his power. But to all this the young inventor and
his friends paid no attention. Their eyes were fixed on the ragged
figure of the white man who was rushing toward their hut as fast as
his legs, manacled as they were, would let him.
"Come on! Come on!" cried Tom.
"Look out!" yelled Ned. "Some of the giants are after him, Tom!"
Several of the big men, after their first fright, had recovered
sufficiently to pursue the captive so strangely released by the
explosion.
"Hand me an electric rifle, Ned!" cried Tom,
"Bless my shoe laces!" cried Mr. Damon. "You're not going to kill
any of the giants; are you, Tom?"
"Well, I'm not going to let them capture Jake Poddington again," was
the quick answer, "but I guess if I stun a few of them with the
electric bullets that will answer.
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