"and let me have a chance to talk. It's so long since I've seen a boy
from up on the Earth that I'd like to talk a spell myself--to limber
up my old tongue. It's grown pretty stiff all these years."

Then he looked way down at Marmaduke, who was standing there, no
higher than the Giant's great toe.

"Come up," he invited the boy, "and have a seat on my shoulder."

Marmaduke looked up and hesitated, for the distance up to that
shoulder was so great. He might as well have tried to climb a mountain
rising straight up in the air. But the Giant helped him out.

"Don't be scared," he said, "I'll give you a boost."

And he reached down his mighty hand and placed it under the seat of
Marmaduke's trousers. The little boy looked no bigger than the kernel
of a tiny hazelnut rolling around in the big palm. But very gently the
big fingers set him on the tall shoulder, way, way above the bottom of
that pit, but very safe and sound. Marmaduke grabbed tight hold of one
of the hairs of the Giant's beard to keep from falling off. He had
hard work, too, for each hair of that beard was as stout and as thick
as the rope of a ship.

"Kind of cosey perch, ain't it?" asked the Giant.

Now it didn't strike Marmaduke as quite that, when he had such hard
work to hold on, and he was so far from the ground, but nevertheless
he answered,--