“What for?” the giant wanted to know.

“For throwing him into the snow.  It is not allowed to do such things in this country, even though it is in Giant Land.  Beg his pardon.

“I shall not,” said the giant calmly, for Tom had taught him to speak fairly good English, though sometimes he got his words backwards.

“The man was about to kill you, and I stopped him—­I will stop him once more, though if he does not like the snow, I can throw him somewhere else.”

“No!  No!  You must not do it!” cried Tom.  “He meant no harm.  He is my friend.”

“I am glad to hear you say that,” exclaimed the picture man.  “I have hopes that you will do what I want.”

“He your friend?” asked Koku wonderingly.  “Certainly; and you must beg his pardon for what you did,” insisted Tom.

“Very well.  I am glad you did not hurt yourself,” said the giant, and with that “apology” he stalked out of the room, his feelings evidently very much disturbed.

“Ha!  Ha!” laughed Mr. Period.  “I guess he can’t see any one but you, Tom.  But never mind.  I know he didn’t mean anything, and, as I’m none the worse I’ll forgive him.  My necktie isn’t spotted; is it?”

“No, the snow didn’t seem to do that any harm,” replied the young inventor, as he looked at the brilliant piece of red silk around Mr. Period’s collar.

“I am very particular about my neckties,” went on the picture man.  “I always wear one color.  My friends never forget me then.”

Tom wondered how they could ever forget him, even though he wore no tie, for his figure and face were such as to not easily be forgotten.

“I’m glad it’s not soiled,” went on “Spotty” as he liked to be called.  “Now, Tom, you said you were my friend.  Prove it by accepting my offer.  Build that wizard camera, and get me some moving pictures that will be a sensation.  Say you will!”

He looked appealingly at Tom, and, remembering the rather rude and unexpected treatment to which Koku had submitted the gentleman, Tom felt his mind changing.  Still he was not yet ready to give in.  He rather liked the idea the more he thought of it, but he felt that he had other duties, and much to occupy him at home, especially if he perfected his silent motor.

“Will you go?” asked Mr. Period, picking up his fountain pen and check book, that he had laid aside when he walked over to Tom, just before the giant grasped him.  “Say you will.”

The young inventor was silent a moment.  He thought over the many adventures he had gone through—­in the caves of ice, in the city of gold, escaping from the giants, and the red pygmies—­He went over the details of his trips through the air, of the dangers under the seas, of those he had escaped from on Earthquake Island.  Surely e was entitled to a little rest at home.

And yet there was a lure to it all.  A certain fascination that was hard to resist.  Mr. Period must have seen what was going on in Tom’s mind, for he said: