He had been back from Russia all winter and, now that Spring had come again, our hero sighed for more activity, and fresh adventures.  And with the advent of Mr. Damon, and his mysterious talk about giants, Tom seemed likely to be gratified.

The two chums and the odd gentleman continued on to the house, no one speaking, until finally, when they were seated in the library, Mr. Damon said: 

“Well, Tom, are you ready to listen to me now, and have me explain what I meant when I asked you to get a giant?”

“I—­I suppose so,” hesitated the young inventor.  “But hadn’t I better call dad?  And are you sure you don’t want to lie down and collect your thoughts?  A nice hot cup of tea—­”

“There, there, Tom Swift; If you tell me to lie down again, or propose any more tea I’ll use you as a punching bag, bless my boxing gloves if I don’t!” cried Mr. Damon and he laughed heartily.  “I know what you think, Tom, and you, too, Ned,” he went on, still chuckling.  “You think I don’t know what I’m saying, but I’ll soon prove that I do.  I’m fully in my senses, I’m not crazy, I’m not talking in my sleep, and I’m very much in earnest.  Tom, this is the chance of your life to get a giant, and pay a visit to giant land.  Will you take it?”

“Mr. Damon, I—­er—­that is I—­”

Tom stammered and looked at Ned.

“Now look here, Tom Swift!” exclaimed the odd man.  “When you got word about the buried city of gold in Mexico you didn’t hesitate a minute about making up your mind to go there; did you?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Well, that wasn’t any more of a strain on your imagination than this giant business; was it?”

“Well, I don’t know, as—­”

“Bless my spectacles!  Of course it wasn’t!  Now, look here.  Tom, you just make up your mind that I know what I’m talking about, and we’ll get along better.  I don’t blame you for being a bit puzzled at first, but just you listen.  You believe there are such things as giants; don’t you?”

“I saw a man in the circus once, seven feet high.  They called him a giant,” spoke Ned.

“A giant!  He was a baby compared to the kind of giants I mean,” said Mr. Damon quickly.  “Tom, we are going after a race of giants, the smallest one of which is probably eight feet high, and from that they go on up to nearly ten feet, and they’re not slim fellows either, but big in proportion.  Now in giant land—­”

“Here’s Mrs. Baggert with a quieting cup of tea,” interrupted Tom.  “I spoke to her as we came in, and asked her to have some ready.  If you’ll drink this, Mr. Damon, I’m sure—­”

“Bless my sugar bowl, Tom!  You make a man nervous, with your cups of tea.  I’m more quiet than you, but I’ll drink it to please you.  Now listen to me.”

“All right, go ahead.”

“A friend of mine has asked me if I knew any one who could undertake to go to giant land, and get him one or two specimens of the big men there.  I at once thought of you, and I said I believed you would go.  And I’ll go with you, Tom!  Think of that!  I’ve got faith enough in the proposition to go myself!”