“Hello!” the goblin ejaculated delightedly. “We won’t have to tramp to the village. That’s a gooseherd. See; he has the geese tethered together with twine and is guiding them with a crook. We’ll wait here and buy them of him.”
The gooseherd and his flock drew near. He was a tall, angular young man, ragged and barefoot. His merry whistle rose above the strident quacks of his charges, and his flat feet softly spatted the dust of the highway in time to his own music.
Fitz Mee stepped forward, politely lifted his cap and said in greeting:
“Good morning, Sir Gooseherd.”
The young man stopped in his tracks and dropped his crook and his jaw at the same time. Plainly he was startled at the sudden appearance of the little green sprite and his companion, and just as plainly he was greatly frightened.
“We desire to purchase your geese,” the goblin ventured, boldly advancing. “How much gold will buy them?”
The gooseherd let out a shrill yell of terror and turned and fled up the road as fast as his long legs could carry him. The geese attempted to flee also, but, being tethered together, became hopelessly and helplessly entangled and fell to the ground, a flapping, quacking mass.
Bob and Fitz laughed heartily.
“Hurrah!” the goblin whooped. “The geese and cord are ours, anyhow.”
“But we didn’t pay the fellow,” Bob objected.
“I’ll fix that,” his comrade assured him. “When we’ve plucked the feathers off the geese, I’ll tie the bag of nuggets around the neck of one, and then we’ll turn ’em loose. The young fellow’ll find ’em and get the gold. And now we must hurry up and get through with this job and be off from this coast; the gooseherd may come back and bring his friends with him.”
The two diminutive aëronauts laboriously disentangled the geese and drove them to the immediate vicinity of the wrecked balloon. There they plucked the feathers off the quacking, quaking fowls, and refilled the balloon-bag and closed the rent. Then they turned the stripped and complaining birds loose, one meekly bearing the bag of gold; and finally they spliced the broken ropes of the car and were ready to resume their voyage.
“Jump in and pump up the tank a little, Bob,” Fitz cried joyfully. “I’ll be ready to weigh anchor when you say the word.”
But at that moment came the patter of many feet upon the dry sand, followed by a shower of clubs and stones that rattled about the car and the heads of its occupants, and instantly the balloon was surrounded by a crowd of gaping, leering villagers!
“Captured!” groaned Fitz Mee.
“Captured!” echoed Bob.
The villagers began to close in upon them, brandishing rude weapons and uttering hoarse cries of rage.
In sheer desperation the goblin squirmed and grimaced, and ended his ridiculous performance by uttering a blood-curdling “boo!”
The startled villagers fell back in indecision and alarm, tumbling over one another in frantic efforts to get out of reach of the little green sprite. Taking instant advantage of the respite, Bob whipped out his knife and cut the anchor rope, and with a smart jerk the balloon sprang aloft.
“Saved!” murmured the boy. “Saved, Fitz Mee!”
He received no answer; and he hurriedly turned to look for his companion who, a moment before, had been at his side. Then he sank back upon the locker, overcome with wonder and dismay. Fitz Mee was not in the car; Bob was alone!
CHAPTER V
IN WHICH BOB BECOMES A GIANT
The balloon was rapidly rising. Bob flew to the air-tank and frantically worked the pump. Gradually the primitive air-craft came to a stop, and floated motionless several hundred feet above the ground.
Then the boy hunkered upon the locker and peered over the edge of the car. Distinctly he could hear the clamorous cries and yells of the Portuguese; and in the center of the jeering, hooting mob, he could barely distinguish his diminutive friend. The sudden jerk of the car had thrown the goblin out, right among the villagers; and they were dancing delightedly around the green little sprite, clapping their hands and whooping themselves hoarse.
Bob caught up the binocular and directed it toward the scene below him. After a momentary inspection, he settled back with a sigh of partial relief.
“I guess they’re not going to kill him,” the boy muttered. “But I wonder what they’ll do with him; and I wonder what’s to become of me.”
Again he surveyed the scene below. The Portuguese were setting off toward their village, bearing the kicking, screaming Fitz Mee with them. A gigantic peasant carried the goblin in his arms.
“I don’t know what to do,” Bob murmured, in deep perplexity; “I don’t know what I can do. I don’t know the way to Goblinland; and so I can’t go there after help to rescue Fitz. I won’t go back home and leave him to his fate, though; that would be mean and cowardly. I—I don’t know what to—to do.”
A while he sat upon the locker, silently and thoughtfully peering over the edge of the basket, occasionally putting the binocular to his eyes. There was not a breath of air; and the balloon hung motionless as a fleecy summer cloud. The boy saw the peasants making their way up the valley to the outskirts of the village, and noted the hub-bub that was raised among the other villagers, at the advent of the goblin. Then the whole crowd disappeared among the trees and buildings of the little hamlet. With a start, Bob roused himself.
“I’ve got to do something,” he grumbled testily to himself; “I can’t just float here always. Poor old Spasms! I’ve got to help him out of the fix he’s got into, someway. I don’t believe he’d go back on me—I don’t believe he would; and I won’t go back on him. But what in the world can I do?” scratching his head and frowning. “Oh, I’d like to be a giant just for a little while! If I wouldn’t show those Portuguese a thing or two! I’d drop right down among ’em, lick the last one of ’em—and carry Fitz away in the palm of my hand. Oh! but that would be fine!” And he chuckled and wagged his head.
Then an idea, suggested by his wish to be a giant, came to him; and he leaped from his seat and hurried to the locker on the opposite side of the car, and threw it open. After a momentary search, he drew forth the hand-satchel containing the food-tablets and drink-pellets.
“I’ll just see, anyhow,” he whispered excitedly. “If the goblins make tablets to shrink people, maybe they make some to swell ’em up—make giants of ’em. I’ll just see.”
He opened the satchel and, squinting his eyes and wrinkling his brows, commenced to mumble over the names upon the tiny bottles.
“Food-tablets—tiger-muscle, food-tablets—lion-heart, drink-pellets—pure water, food-tablets—fat, gob-tabs—for dwarfing purposes.”
He grinned and shook his head.
“I don’t want any more of those,” he grimaced; “I’m too small for any good use now. It’s funny there isn’t any—ah! What’s this? ‘Giant-tabs—to be used only in cases of extreme need.’ I’ll bet those are the very things I’m looking for. I’m going to try ’em, anyhow. If there ever was a case of extreme need, this is one.”
He shook out one of the little tablets and was about to pop it into his mouth, when he started suddenly and sharply and shook his head, muttering:
“It won’t do to take it now—till I get to the ground. It might swell me up so big my weight would overcome the buoyancy of the feathers or break the ropes of the car; and then I’d fall like a gob of mud. I’ll have to wait till I’m out of the balloon before I make the experiment. And it may get me into trouble when I do take the stuff—I don’t know; it may poison me—or swell me up so fast I’ll burst. Well, I don’t know what else to try; so I’ve got to do it. Now I’ll just sail out over the town, the first thing, and see if I can find out what those Portuguese have done with Fitz—poor old chap! My! I almost wish I was out of all this mess of trouble, and back home.”
He set the needle of the selector as he had seen the goblin do, and gave a slight turn to the thumb-screw; and the balloon instantly began to move toward the village a mile or so away. When his vessel had reached a position directly over the little town, Bob shut off the power and brought it to a standstill. Then he took his glass and peered down among the roofs and treetops. He saw the people congregated in the central square of the place. It was evident they were holding some sort of public meeting. A speaker upon an improvised platform was wildly talking and gesticulating; and the other villagers were listening intently, mouths agape. Bob could hear the words of the orator of the occasion, and was surprised and pleased to learn that he could understand their meaning. The man was saying:
“My people, I’ve called you together here to determine what we shall do with this strange being that has landed upon our shores. The first thing to do, however, is to ascertain what the thing is. It’s not a man—that’s plain; and I’d like an expression of opinion from you as to what you consider it to be. Speak out, now.”
“It’s a big green frog,” said one man.
Bob smiled as he listened.
“It’s a green parrot without feathers,” said another.
Bob grinned.
“It’s a green devil,” ventured a third.
Bob chuckled.
“It’s a green monkey,” opined a fourth.
Bob laughed outright.
And the peasants heard him, and cast their gaze aloft; and immediately began to gesticulate and vociferate excitedly.
“I’m a goblin, you fools!” croaked a familiar voice. “I’m a goblin, I tell you!”
Bob then saw his friend. The latter was confined in a parrot cage hanging upon a post in front of a building. The speaker—who, it was plain, was in authority—quieted the populace; and then he continued:
“As you will perceive, there’s another one of the strange beings up there in that balloon. Now, my opinion is that they’re moon-men from the moon. As you all know, the moon’s made of green cheese; and that would account for the color of them.”
“But the one up there isn’t green,” a woman objected; “he’s gray.”
“No doubt he’s old and faded,” the speaker explained.
Bob laughed heartily; then listened intently, for the official was saying:
“My opinion is that these moon-men have come to bring a pestilence upon us, my children; and if we do not rid ourselves of them, we will suffer greatly. So I condemn them to death. This one that, by your great prowess and bravery, you have already captured, we will execute at sunset; and bury him with a great stone upon him, that he may know no resurrection. The other one must be captured. We must think of some plan to entice him within our reach. Let us adjourn to my official residence, there to consider the grave matter.”
Soon the street was apparently deserted; but the boy could see guards peeping from places of concealment.
“Bob!” Fitz Mee called softly. “Hello, Bob!”
“Hello, Fitz!” the lad answered.
“Come down and get me—quick!”
“I don’t dare, Fitz; they’re watching.”
“But you must get me out of this fix, Bob, somehow.”
“Of course, Fitz. But how?”
“Can’t you think of a plan? I’m so scared I can’t think.”
“I’ve thought of one plan.”
“What is it?”
Bob gave a few strokes to the air-pump; and the balloon sank almost to the level of the treetops. Then the boy said, cautiously:
“Fitz, do you hear me?”
“Yes.”
“Well, this is the plan I’ve thought of: I’ve found some giant-tabs in your portable pantry; and I think of taking one of them.”
“That’s the thing,” Fitz interrupted gleefully. “You’re a genius, Bob.”
“It won’t hurt me—the medicine, will it?”
“Not a bit.”
“Just make a giant of me?”
“That’s all.”
“And I can go back to boy size or goblin size, when I want to?”
“Yes; all you’ll have to do is to take a few gob-tabs.”
“Ugh! more pills. Well, all right; I’ll do it, then. I’ll make a giant of myself, and sail in and knock these Portuguese galley-west—and carry you off.”
“Well, do it right now,” Fitz cried impatiently.
“I can’t.”
“Why can’t you?” peevishly.
“I don’t dare take the giant-tabs till I’m upon the ground, you understand; my size would wreck the balloon. And I don’t dare to come to the ground, right here and right now; the Portuguese would capture me before I could do anything. See?”
“Y-e-s,” Fitz Mee admitted, disappointment in his voice. “But what are you going to do?”
“I’m going over the hills out of sight, drop to the ground there, and hide the balloon, and then come back afoot.”
“Well, don’t be very long about it, Bob.”
“Oh! there’s no hurry. They don’t mean to kill you till sunset, Fitz.”
“Well, do you think I want to stay cooped up here all day?”
“You mustn’t get impatient, Fitzy,” the boy giggled.
“You stop your laughing,” the goblin grumbled. “It isn’t funny.”
“Isn’t it?” tauntingly.
“No, it isn’t, Roberty-Boberty!”
“Yeah—yeah! Old Epilepsy!”
“Shut up!”
“You shut up!”
“Say, Bob?”
“What?”
“You will hurry, won’t you?”
“Yes! But say, Fitz?”
“Well?”
“How is it that I can understand what these Portuguese say?”
“Well, you know we goblins can understand any language.”
“We goblins?” the boy cried sharply.
“Yes,” Fitz chuckled.
“I’m no goblin,” Bob asserted stoutly; “I’m a Yankee.”
“You’re a goblin—half goblin, anyhow.”
“I’m not!”
“You are! You’ve taken gob-tabs; and that makes you partly goblin.”
“Fitz Mee,” the boy yelled, “you mean old thing! You say that again, and I’ll sail off home—and leave you right where you are.”
“I won’t say it any more, Bob; but it’s so.”
“Good-bye, Fitz; I’m going.”
“Not home?”
“No; over the hills.”
“Well, hurry back.”
“All right.”
Bob released a little of the pent air in the tank, and soared high above the earth; then he manipulated the selector and sped away over the hills out of sight of the village. When he thought it safe, he worked the pump and descended to the earth. There he made the balloon fast in a secluded spot near the highway—by tying it securely to a tree, with the piece of anchor-rope remaining.
“There,” he breathed softly, “I’ll know where to find my air-ship; I’ll remember the place by this big funny-looking stone here at the roadside. Now I’ll take my medicine and be off to the rescue of my good comrade, Fitz Mee.”
He took one of the tiny giant-tabs and swallowed it; and immediately he began to grow and grow—clothes and all. He stretched up, up till his head was on a level with the tops of the smaller trees; and he spread out till he was as big in girth as the trunks of the largest.
“Wonderful!” he ejaculated, and his voice almost frightened him; it was as coarse and hoarse as the roar of a lion. He looked at his hands and feet—and laughed. They were as large as hams of meat; and his limbs were like the great limbs of an elephant. Proudly he strode about, crooking his arm and feeling his biceps muscle and muttering to himself:
“Won’t I make a scatterment among those Portuguese! I’ll scare ’em all into conniption fits. But I won’t hurt any of ’em, unless I have to; that would be wrong, cruel—just like a big man whipping a little boy. But I must be off; Fitz will be tired of waiting. I wonder how far I’ve got to walk. My! but I’m hungry; and I want meat.”
He picked up a large knotted pole for a cane and set off along the road, whistling; and his whistle was as loud as that of a calliope. The birds flew away in affright; and the hares and other small animals scampered into the depths of the forest. Bob smiled complacently, recklessly swinging his big knotted club.
Presently he approached a hut by the roadside; and he went up to it and knocked upon the swinging door. An old woman put in an appearance; but, at sight of her gigantic caller, she let out a yell and fled back into the dusky interior.
Bob turned the corner of the cabin,—his head overtopped the comb of the roof by several feet!—and dropped upon hands and knees and crawled into the kitchen. The poor old woman again caught sight of him; and fled from the premises, screaming shrilly. Bob pitied her and called to her to come back, that he meant her no harm; but his awful bellowing voice served only to frighten her the more. The boy-giant—or the giant-boy, or whatever he should be called—discovered upon the table in the center of the floor a leg of roast mutton, a loaf of black bread, a jug of milk and some fruit; and ravenously devoured the whole. Then he retreated from the kitchen; and, feeling much refreshed, resumed his way toward the village, taking strides fully fifteen feet long.
But when he had gone a short distance, he met the old woman whose food he had eaten returning toward her home, accompanied by her husband. The man had been at work in the fields; and now he was walking rapidly, his head down, cracking his fists and valiantly declaring what he would do to the bold intruder when he encountered him. Bob heard the fellow’s rash threats, and gave a loud laugh. The man flung up his head, took one look at the boy-giant—and incontinently took to his heels, literally dragging his wife after him. Across the fields they flew, and disappeared in a bit of woodland; and Bob pursued his course unmolested, still laughing boisterously. It was all so very funny!
He picked up a large knotted pole for a cane.
Shortly he reached the top of the hill, where he could look down upon the little village, whose inhabitants were all unconscious of the terrible being that was approaching it. There the boy-giant paused to consider. Shaking his head he muttered, a grin spreading over his coarse features:
“Well, those giant-tabs have increased my size wonderfully, but I don’t feel that they’ve increased my courage in the same way. I’m almost afraid to go down into that town. Those Portuguese might take it into their heads to shoot; and I’d be such a big mark they couldn’t miss me. But I guess there’s no other way; so here goes.”
He loped off down the hill; and a few minutes later he was entering the village. Some children at play saw him coming and ran ahead of him, screaming frantically. A woman came to her door, and immediately followed the children, also yelling at the top of her voice. Several men hastily put in an appearance; and as hastily joined the woman and children, in a mad race toward the public square of the town. The alarm spread. Others, and still others—of both sexes and all ages and sizes—emerged from concealment; and sought safety in mad flight, all speeding toward one destination, the mayor’s official residence.
The mayor and his officers and advisors heard the hub-bub and poured forth to ascertain the cause of it; and when the boy-giant arrived at the town’s place of public gathering, there they all were, yelling, screaming, shouting and gesticulating.
Bob swung his big club and bellowed “boo! boo! boo!” as loud as he could; and the frightened people tumbled over one another in an effort to hurry to places of security. The mayor led the way, closely followed by his officers. All deserted the place but one old soldier. He ran at Bob, a rusty sword in his hand, and tried to hack the boy-giant’s legs; and the latter had to snatch the sword away from the pugnacious old warrior and take him across his knee and spank him soundly, before he would consent to behave. However, when at last the boy-giant set the old fellow upon the ground, he scampered away as fast as he could limp.
“Oh, Bob—Bob!” Fitz Mee cried pipingly, piteously, a hint of tears in his voice. “I’m so glad you’ve come. They had just decided to execute me at noon; and it wants only an hour of the time.”
“A miss is as good as a mile, Fitz,” Bob laughed. “But we must get out of here before they recover their wits and their courage, and return; they might shoot us. My! but didn’t that old soldier want to fight? A few like him would have given me a lot of trouble. Well, here we go—for safety and a better country.”
And he took the parrot cage containing the goblin under arm, and made a hurried retreat from the village.
CHAPTER VI
LOST IN THE DESERT
As Bob moved rapidly along the country road, bearing his comrade in the parrot cage, he could hear the sounds of clamor and pursuit behind him—the barking of dogs, the confused shouting and yelling of men, and the booming and cracking of fire-arms.
“Hurry, Bob, hurry!” squeaked Fitz Mee. “They’re after us!”
“Yes, but their legs are too short,” Bob chuckled; “they won’t catch us. Don’t you worry, my teenty-weenty green frog, the naughty men shan’t hurt you.” And he held the parrot cage up in front of him, and with his finger playfully poked Fitz Mee in the ribs.
“Quit that!” croaked the goblin. “And don’t you call me a green frog any more, either.”
“Pretty little green monkey, that’s what it is!” Bob laughed, teasingly.
“Shut up!” snapped Fitz.
“Nice little green devil!” the boy-giant continued, shaking with laughter.
“Shut up!” screeched the goblin. “Shut up, I say! I’ll scratch you; I’ll bite you!”
“Sweet-tempered little green moon-man!” Bob persisted.
“Look here, Bob Taylor!” Fitz cried, vexed and desperate. “If you don’t quit calling me names, I’ll—I’ll run off and leave you.”
“All right,” the boy-giant returned placidly, “I’ll just set you down here in the road and let you run off.”
And he suited his action to his words.
“Oh, don’t, please don’t, Bob!” Fitz Mee pleaded, almost in tears. “Let me out of this cage, and take me up and go ahead. And don’t plague me any more, just because you’re so big and so strong. It isn’t like you, Bob—to be so cruel. I don’t like you as a giant; I’d rather have you as a goblin—as a boy, I mean—and I’ll be glad when you’re back in that state again.”
“Maybe I won’t be a boy or a goblin any more,” Bob remarked thoughtfully, as he released his companion and took him up in his arms; “maybe I’ll just remain a giant. I rather like being a giant; I don’t have to take pills when I’m a giant. I can eat meat and things.”
“But you can’t go in the balloon, as a giant,” Fitz Mee suggested.
“No, that’s so. Well, maybe I won’t go in it any more; maybe you don’t want me to.”
“You know I do, Bob.”
“Sure?”
“Of course! Aren’t we on our way to Goblinland, to have the time of our lives—hey?” shrewdly.
“Well, I’ll go back to the form of a goblin, then, Fitz; but—ugh!—I don’t like the pills!”
They topped the hill and reached the hut where Bob had taken the old woman’s dinner. He told the goblin what he had done, and the goblin chuckled and spluttered in great glee. The boy-giant shook him and said to him:
“Have you any more gold about you?”
“A little,” the green sprite made reply. “Why?”
“I want it.”
“What for?”
“To pay that old woman for the dinner I ate.”
“Well, you can’t have it.”
“I can’t?”
“No, you can’t!”
“Why can’t I?”
“It’s my gold, not yours.”
“I know, Fitz; but you’ll let me have it.”
“Will I? Not much, Roberty-Boberty!”
“Take care!” Bob cried, giving the tiny fellow a threatening shake. “Remember I’m a giant right now, and liable to lose my temper. And don’t you call me any more names, I warn you. Now, hand over that gold.”
“You’re a robber, that’s what you are, Rob Taylor,” the goblin complained sullenly, fumbling in his pocket for the gold demanded.
“And you’re a mischievous, ill-tempered little pest,” Bob laughed.
At last, with apparent reluctance, the goblin dropped two or three nuggets into the boy-giant’s broad palm.
“There!” he muttered. “But I don’t see what you want to pay the old woman for.”
“Because it’s right to pay her,” Bob explained; “I took her dinner.”
“Oh!” giggling.
“Yes, sir. And you know it’s right, Fitz; you’re just plaguing me.”
“Think so?”—laughing. “Well, pay her. But hurry up about it; I hear our pursuers coming. You’ll fool around and get us trapped, if you don’t look sharp.”
“Here!” Bob cried, dropping the goblin to the ground and returning the gold to him. “You go to the door and pay her. If she sees me, she’ll run away again. Go on; I’ll hide.”
With the words he stepped aside among the trees that bordered the road; and the goblin ran to the door of the hut and kicked upon it. There was silence in the cabin for several moments; then the door screaked on its hinges and slowly swung open. The old man and old woman were both there; but as soon as they caught sight of the green little being, they were more frightened than they had been at sight of the giant. With a great flirting of skirts and shaking of trousers, they leaped right over the goblin’s head and sped away to the fields again, yelling lustily. Fitz Mee rolled upon the ground, laughing immoderately; and Bob joined in his companion’s merriment. However, he called to him:
“Throw the gold upon the floor—and come on; they’ll find it, if they ever pluck up courage to come back to their house. Come on; we’ve got to hurry.”
The boy-giant caught up his wee comrade and ran as fast as he could toward the place where he had hid the balloon. The sounds of pursuit were close behind them. Into the woods Bob dashed and crashed; and soon he stood beside the air-vessel.
“Open the satchel and get me a gob-tab—quick!” he bellowed to Fitz, tossing him into the basket.
“A gob-tab?” squeaked Fitz.
“Yes—quick!”
“One won’t do you any good.”
“Huh!”
“No; you’ll have to take a half-dozen. Here they are.”
“Have I got to swallow all those pills?”
“Yes, down ’em—and be nimble about it.”
“Well, I won’t!”
“Now, Bob!” coaxingly.
“I won’t!” stubbornly. “You know I don’t like pills!”
“Bob, you’ll get us into trouble.”
“I don’t care. I’d rather get into trouble than have trouble get into me; and that’s what pills are—trouble.”
Just then came a loud rattling and crashing of the underbrush; and a large number of men and boys and dogs burst into the little open space and surrounded the two adventurers.
“Surrender!” cried the mayor.
“Get out!” roared the boy-giant in answer. And he set into kicking the too inquisitive dogs and cuffing the too venturesome men in a strenuous manner that made them fall back to a respectful distance—and in a great hurry.
“Untie the balloon!” Bob bawled to his companion. “And give me those gob-tabs!”
Fitz Mee did as directed.
“Boo! boo! boo!” roared the boy-giant, leaping and dancing awkwardly about.
“At ’em again!” commanded the mayor. “But don’t shoot; capture ’em alive!”
Again men and boys and dogs began to close in upon the aëronauts. Fitz Mee signalled that the balloon was in readiness. Bob clapped the six gob-tabs into his mouth and hastily swallowed them—making a ridiculously grotesque face that caused his enemies to hesitate in their advance upon him. Then he tried to let out another startling “boo.” It started off all right, big and coarse and awful; but it ended in a tiny dribbling squeak that was so funny that the goblin dropped to the bottom of the car, squirming and laughing. Bob had suddenly shrunk to goblin size.
“A miracle!” cried the mayor, crossing himself and retreating.
“A miracle!” seconded his people, following his example.
Taking advantage of the momentary respite in his favor, Bob jumped into the car. Fitz released the air; and away the balloon soared—up through the treetops—to the fleecy clouds far, far above the earth. Cries and wails of disappointment and chagrin followed the daring aëronauts.
“Saved again!” yelled Bob.
“Saved again!” croaked Fitz.
“They came near catching us!” the boy panted.
“Yes, and it was all your fault,” the goblin grumbled.
“How do you make that out?” Bob cried sharply.
“Why, you wouldn’t take the gob-tabs, and that delayed us—that’s how,” Fitz Mee retorted.
“Yes, and you lay down and laughed in the old woman’s door-yard; and that delayed us, too.”
“It didn’t!”
“It did!”
“It didn’t, I say!”
“It did, I say!”
“Bob, you’re a contrary boy, that’s what you are!”
“And, Fitz, you’re a stubborn goblin, that’s what you are!”
Then they sat upon the locker and glared at each other—and burst out laughing.
“Well, we got away, anyhow,” Fitz said.
“That’s what we did,” Bob replied.
“Let’s be off.”
“All right.”
“Here’s for Goblinland!” waving his arms.
“Hurrah!” waving his cap.
Fitz began to manipulate the selector.
“You haven’t set that needle right,” the boy objected.
“Huh?”—sharply.
“No, you haven’t.”
“Why haven’t I?”
“Goblinland’s east from here, isn’t it?”
“Of course.”
“Well, you’ve set that needle pointing west.”
“I haven’t.”
“You have, too.”
“Why, Bob, the sun rises in the east, doesn’t it?”
“To be sure.”
“Well?”
“Well, it’s afternoon now, and the sun’s in the west; and you’ve set the indicator pointing straight toward it.”
“I tell you it’s forenoon; and the sun’s in the east.”
“Fitz, you’re wrong.”
“Bob, I’m not.”
“You’ll see.”
“You’ll see.”
“Fitz Mee, you don’t know anything.”
“Bob Taylor, I know everything.”
“Yes, you do!”
“I do!”
“Bah!” the boy sneered. “You didn’t know enough to loose the latch of a parrot cage and let yourself out.”
“And you didn’t know enough to take gob-tabs when you needed ’em.”
“Yeah!”
“Yeah!”
Both remained sullenly silent for some seconds. Then Bob said grumblingly:
“All right, Fitz Mee, have your way. You’ll see, though.”
The goblin made no reply; he simply turned the thumb-screw of the selector, and the balloon sailed away upon its course rapidly and gracefully. Presently, however, Fitz gave a start and muttered:
“Why, we’re out over the water again; and we ought to be crossing the mountains. I wonder what’s the matter—eh, Bob?”
“Oh! there’s nothing the matter,” snickered Bob, “except we’re going west, as I told you—going back to America.”
“Bob, I—I guess you’re right,” Fitz admitted, reluctantly.
“Of course I’m right,” the boy said, swelling with supreme self-satisfaction.
“Well,” muttered the goblin, “we can turn around and go the other way; and we will.”
With that he again began to busy himself with the selector. But in a moment he mumbled peevishly:
“Why—why, what’s the matter with this thing?”
“What?” the boy inquired.
“The needle won’t turn at all, Bob.”
“It won’t?” stooping to examine.
“No, it won’t. See?”
“Yes. What do you suppose ails it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Don’t you understand your own machinery, Fitz Mee of Goblinland?” teasingly.
“Yes, I do—when a certain boy from Yankeeland hasn’t meddled with it,” crossly.
“Oh!”
“Yes.”
“You think I hurt your old machine?”
“I know you did—in some way.”
“Fitz Mee, I wish I’d left you in the hands of the Portuguese.”
“No, you don’t.”
“I do!”
“Now, Bob!”
“Well, what did you say I spoiled the selector for?”
“I didn’t mean you did it on purpose, Bob.”
“Didn’t you?”
“No; I just meant you did it by accident. It’s a very delicate instrument, you know.”
“Oh!”
“Yes. Well, it’s done and can’t be helped. It appears that I’ve set the indicator west instead of east, so west we must go. It’ll be a longer journey, but who cares! We’ll sail right back across America and over the Pacific. I’ll open her up and let her fly.”
He gave a turn or two to the thumb-screw; and the balloon shot forward—at the speed of a comet, almost. The two aëronauts dropped flat upon the floor of the car and remained silent, for the uproar occasioned by their rapid passage through the air prevented conversation. Soon, however, the mercurial boy grew restless; and he cautiously drew himself up across the locker and peeped over the edge of the basket. The goblin caught his venturesome companion by the heels and attempted to draw him back; but Bob wriggled and gesticulated, pointing downward over the rim of the basket, and finally grabbed Fitz by the arm and pulled him up on to the locker. The goblin took one peep; then rolled to the bottom of the car, and tightened the thumb-screw and gradually brought the balloon to a standstill.
“We’re over the land again,” Bob gasped.
“Yes,” panted Fitz Mee, climbing to his comrade’s side.
“Well, what does it mean? We haven’t reached America already, have we?”
The goblin shook his head, frowning in a puzzled way.
“Well, where are we, then?”
“I don’t know.”
“Fitz, we’re lost.”
“I guess we are, Bob.”
The boy took up the binocular and looked all around.
“Why!” he exclaimed. “There’s a city ’way back yonder on the coast, an odd-looking city like the pictures in my geography; and there’s nothing out there ahead of us but sand—sand—sand, as far as I can see.”
“Huh!” snorted Fitz Mee.
Then he rolled to the floor of the car, laughing immoderately and holding his sides and kicking up his heels.
“Look here!” the boy cried angrily. “What’s the matter with you, old Convulsions? What’s so funny, I’d like to know?”
“Why—why, Bob,” Fitz said, getting upon his feet and wiping his pop eyes upon the long tails of his coat, “we’re a pair of precious ninnies. We’ve been traveling south all the time—instead of east as I thought, or west as you thought. And here we are in Africa. We’ve crossed the narrow part of the Mediterranean; and we’re now in the southern edge of Morocco—right over the Sahara desert!”