FITZ MEE MAGNETIZES THE SPRING
Bob looked very sober, and said nothing; and Fitz continued:
“So you see we were both wrong; we forgot that the sun is south at
noon—that’s all. Isn’t it funny?” and again the goblin laughed.
“I don’t think it very funny,” the boy replied, pouting his lips, and
looking very glum.
“You don’t?”
“No, I don’t.”
“Why don’t you?”
“Because here we are in the desert—away south of where we ought to
be; and the selector won’t work, and we can’t go back—can’t go in
any direction but south. If we keep on, we’ll just come to the south
pole—that’s all.”
“Say!” the goblin cried. “I never thought of that, Bob. That’s so; and
we’re in a fix, sure.” Then, after wrinkling his forehead and blinking
thoughtfully for a few moments: “Well, there’s just one thing to do:
we’ve got to fix the selector—got to find out what ails it and set it
right. We’ll travel on till we come to an oasis; and there we’ll descend
to the ground, and I’ll tinker the machine.”
“Why can’t you do it here and now?” Bob suggested.
“I’m afraid I might get us into worse trouble, Bob; might shake the thing
up in some way that would cause it to run away with us. It’s tricky
sometimes. No, I’ll wait till we come to an oasis; then I’ll work at it
on the ground.”
“All right. And I’ll work my teeth upon some ripe dates and any other
fruit I can find.”
“That reminds me, Bob,”—setting the balloon in motion,—“that we haven’t
had any dinner; and it’s getting late in the afternoon. Why didn’t you
mention that you were getting hungry?”
“Oh! I’m not _very_ hungry; you know I had a big meal that I got from the
old woman’s table. But you haven’t eaten anything since morning, have
you, Fitz?”
“No, but I’ll eat now as we go along; and you can join me.”
“Oh, _can_ I?” contemptuously.
“Certainly.”
“You’re very kind.”
“Aren’t you hungry?”
“Not hungry enough to take pills.”
“Bob, I tell you they’re _not_ pills; they’re food tablets.”
“They’re pills all the same, Fitz; and I won’t take ’em when I can get
anything else. And I think I’ll find some fruit when we reach an oasis.”
The goblin said no more; but silently opened the hand-satchel, and took
out and swallowed a number of the tiny tablets and pellets, smacking his
lips in a manner that made his companion turn up his nose in disgust.
The sun was slowly sinking in the west. Bob had the binocular to his eyes
and was sweeping the southern horizon. Suddenly he cried:
“Look! Look, Fitz! We’re coming to a great city!”
The goblin smiled pityingly, wagging his head and rolling his eyes.
“Don’t you see it?” the boy asked eagerly.
The goblin nodded, still smiling. Bob leveled his glass upon the distant
city and continued to observe it. It was a most beautiful sight, that
city. It stood upon the bank of a blue lake; and its white walls, its
domes and spires, glistened in the rays of the declining sun. But
gradually it began to fade away; and little by little it disappeared from
view.
“Why—why,” the boy cried, “what’s become of it, Fitz? I can’t see it any
more. What’s become of it?”
“Don’t you know?” the goblin snickered.
“No.”
“You didn’t see any city, Bob.”
“I know I _did_! Think I can’t _see_?”
“Yes, you can see; but you didn’t see any city.”
“What did I see, then?”
“A mirage.”
“Oh!”
“You know what I mean?”
“Yes. Was that all it was?”
“That was all.”
“Well, it was beautiful, anyway. And there’s another one—a lot of grass
and green trees this time.”
“That’s an oasis.”
“Maybe it’s just another mirage.”
“No, it’s an oasis. See! It’s getting closer and clearer all the time.
There’s where we’ll stop.”
The swift speed of their air-vessel soon brought them to the green
oasis. There they descended to the earth, pumped the tank full of air,
and firmly secured the balloon to a tree. Then Fitz set about to repair
the selector, and Bob began to search for fruit. The boy was successful
in his quest and soon returned to his comrade, his cap full of luscious
dates. The goblin was sitting upon the ground, his back against the side
of the basket, apparently glum and half asleep.
“Have some, Fitz,” the boy mumbled, his mouth full of fruit, offering a
share to his companion. Fitz drowsily shook his head.
“Did you get the selector fixed?” Bob inquired.
The goblin nodded, batting his eyes.
“I—I _guess_ I’ve got it fixed,” he said.
“What was the matter with it?”
“I don’t know, Bob. I never had a selector act like this one does; I’m
afraid it’s permanently magnetized.”
“Why, what would put it in that condition, Fitz?”
“Oh! I don’t know, I guess.”
“Yes, you do. Out with it.”
“I don’t want to scare you, Bob, but—”
[Illustration]
“Scare me? Pooh! Out with it.”
“Well, down here in Africa somewhere—I don’t know just where—there’s a
magnetic mountain; and we goblins have had trouble with it. Whenever we
get within the zone of its power with our balloons, it magnetizes our
selectors so they won’t work right; and if we get too close, it draws us
to it—and we have great trouble in getting away. Some of my countrymen
have had to abandon their balloons and walk miles and miles, and then
send a wireless message home for help.”
“Is that _so_?”—mouth agape.
“Yes, indeed.”
“And you think that’s what ails our selector?”
“I’m afraid it is.”
“Well, what’re we going to do about it?”
“There’s very little we _can_ do—if that’s what’s the matter with our
machine. It seems to be all right now; but you must remember we’re on the
ground, with other mountains between us and the magnetic peak—breaking
its power, as it were. Probably when we’re high in the air again, we’ll
encounter the old difficulty.”
“Then we’d better sail as close to the earth as we can, Fitz, till we’re
beyond the influence of that strange mountain.”
“That’s a good idea, Bob; I’d already thought of it. And, as the sun’s
almost down and we’ll need to see our way when travelling close to the
ground, I think we’d better spend the night here, don’t you?”
“Yes. But—but say, Fitz!”
“What?”
“If you need to send a wireless phone message to Goblinland, how do you
do it?”
Fitz Mee silently drew from his pocket a small shiny metallic box, and
opened it. It contained a tiny telephone instrument, perfect in every
detail—speaking-tube, receiver and all.
“My!” the boy exclaimed in admiration and wonder. “Isn’t it pretty and
isn’t it little! But how do you use it, Fitz?”
“Just like you use any telephone,” the goblin replied complacently.
“Do you take down that teenty-weenty little receiver and call up central
in Goblinland?”
“Yes.”
“And central gives you whatever number you want?”
The goblin nodded.
“Say!” the boy cried excitedly. “Call up some one right now, Fitz.”
The goblin shook his head.
“Yes,” Bob insisted; “I want to see how it works.”
“I don’t dare to.”
“Don’t _dare_ to?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“There’s a law against using the instrument, except for messages of grave
importance.”
“Oh!”
“Uh-huh.”
Fitz Mee closed the little box and returned it to his pocket; Bob resumed
the munching of his ripe fruit.
“Won’t you have some, Fitz?” he suggested, temptingly displaying it to
the goblin’s gaze.
“Uk-uh!” Fitz grunted.
“Better try some; it’s fine.”
“It would make me sick.”
“Pshaw!”—incredulously, contemptuously.
“I’m afraid it would; I’m afraid it will make _you_ sick.”
“Me?”
“Yes.”
“Huh! Fruit never makes _me_ sick; I can eat bushels of it.”
“You mean you _could_.”
“What?”
“You could—when you were a boy.”
“Well?”
“Well, you’re part goblin now.”
“Well, I’m _not_!”
“You’ll see, Bob.”
“Well, I _will_ see; I’ll eat this fruit and prove to you, Fitzy, that
I’m just a healthy boy.”
“All right,” the goblin grinned.
Bob finished his fruit—to the last date. Then he went to the great spring
near at hand, and lay down and drank his fill. He set out to return to
his comrade; but suddenly he became so ill that he dropped upon the
ground and rolled and writhed and groaned. Fitz came flying to him.
“Here, Bob,” he said quietly, “take this,” offering the wriggling boy a
tablet.
“Oh! pills! pills! pills!” Bob moaned. But he took the tablet and downed
it; and soon he was relieved of the fruit—and his pain. Sheepishly he got
on his feet and sauntered back to the balloon, crestfallen and subdued.
All Fitz Mee said to him was:
“I guess you’ll know enough to stick to goblin diet after this.”
And Bob made no reply.
The sun had gone down; dusky shadows were gathering from far and near and
throwing themselves prone upon the desert sands. The air, that all the
afternoon had been so hot, was growing chill.
“I’m sleepy,” Bob remarked, dropping upon the warm earth and stretching
full length.
“Well, you mustn’t go to sleep there,” Fitz replied.
“Why?” the boy queried.
“You’ll see why when it grows a little darker. Wild beasts will be
prowling around here, after food and water.”
“They will?” raising himself upon his elbow and glancing apprehensively
around.
“Yes, indeed,” the goblin answered.
“Lions?”
“Yes.”
“Leopards?”
“Uh-huh.”
“And hyenas and jackals?”
The goblin nodded.
“Well, where are we going to sleep, then?”
“We’ll let the balloon rise to the level of the tops of these palm trees,
tie it there, and sleep in the car.”
“That’ll do. But I’ll bet we don’t get much sleep; the wild animals will
raise such a rumpus, roaring and howling and fighting. Won’t they?”
“It’s likely.”
“Dear—dear! I wish I was back home.”
“No, you don’t, Bob.”
“I do, too. You promised to take me to Goblinland where everything was to
be lovely; and you’ve got me away down here in the Sahara desert where
there’s nothing but sand and wild beasts. And you’ve got me in such a fix
I can’t eat a little fruit, even, without getting sick; and now I’m to
have no sleep. Bah!”
“That’s all that ails you, Bob.”
“What?”
“You’re sleepy—and cross.”
“I’m not cross.”
“Well—well, we won’t argue the matter.”
“I’ll argue if I want to, old Epilepsy.”
“Say, Bob,”—pleasantly.
No reply.
“Bob.”
“Huh!”—ungraciously.
“I think I know what we can do to send the wild animals about their
business if they bother us.”
“What?”—with a show of interest.
“That is,” with a reflective shake of the head, “if we didn’t throw
overboard, when we were about to sink in the Atlantic, the stuff we need.”
“What is it, Fitz?”
“Magnetic powder.”
“There’s a bottle of it in the locker; I saw it there this morning. But
what on earth are you going to do with it?”
“I’ll tell you. I’m going to sprinkle some of it in the spring; and it’ll
magnetize the water. Then any animal that comes for a drink will get
a shock that will stir up its ideas—and send it flying. Won’t that be
great?”
“Great?” Bob cried, capering about in glee. “Yes, indeed, Fitz! And
won’t it be funny to hear ’em and see ’em? I’m not a bit sleepy now.
Let’s fix the spring right now.”
Soon they had magnetized the spring, and had snuggled down in the car of
their balloon, to spend the night. By that time it was quite dark; so
they partook of a few food-tablets and drink-pellets, and then composed
themselves to rest—out of reach of any beast that might come prowling
around. Bob dropped into a doze. A roar like distant, muttering thunder
roused him. He sat up and rubbed his eyes; then he nudged his sleeping
companion.
“Huh!” ejaculated Fitz, waking with a start.
“I heard something roaring—sounded like thunder,” the boy explained.
“Where?”
“I don’t know; I wasn’t wide enough awake to tell. There—there it goes
again.”
“That’s a lion out on the sands,” chuckled the goblin; “he’s coming for a
drink. Now the fun’ll begin, Bob.”
“And listen! What are those other sounds, Fitz?”
“Jackals barking and hyenas howling. They’re all coming at once. There’ll
be a circus when they gather at the spring.”
The two aëronauts giggled and shrugged their shoulders, in nervous but
delicious expectancy. The moon made the night almost as light as day;
but soon great dark shapes and shadows were to be seen approaching the
oasis, from various directions. The lion roared defiantly, the jackals
barked snappishly and the hyenas howled dolefully.
“I see the lion,” Bob whispered excitedly. “There! He’s just coming in
among the trees. But what’s that other animal creeping along away out
there in the bright moonlight?”
“A leopard,” Fitz replied.
“And that pack of little fellows are jackals?”
“Yes.”
“And those ugly scrawny ones are hyenas?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, my!” the boy exclaimed gleefully. “Talk about a circus, Fitz; _I_
call it a menagerie. This is a free show; and you and I have box seats.”
Then thoughtfully, and with a little shiver, “And I’m mighty glad we
have—and right above the ring. I—”
He was interrupted by a roar that seemed to shake the slender fronds of
the palm trees and rock the balloon. The lion was directly beneath them,
smelling over the ground where they had been. The two small comrades
cuddled close together upon the locker, held each other’s hands, and
strained their eyes and ears to see and hear all that was going on.
Presently the leopard, too, was among the trees and, like the lion, was
nosing from one spot to another; and the jackals and hyenas had ranged
themselves along the border of the little oasis, and were indulging in a
discordant serenade.
“Ugh!” the boy grunted in disgust. “Those cowardly things out there make
me lonesome with their mournful sounds.”
[Illustration]
“Me, too,” the goblin admitted, nodding. Then he whispered sharply:
“There—there, Bob. The lion’s going to the spring. See him in that patch
of moonlight?”
“Yes.”
“And now he’s right at the edge of the water. See him—see him?”
“Uh—huh. And there’s the leopard coming up on the other side.”
The lion advanced majestically to the edge of the pool. He looked askance
at his slender cousin, the leopard; and then he touched his nose to
the clear water. Instantly he sprang backward, bristling, sneezing and
shaking his head, in surprise and anger. The leopard looked on in wonder
at her cousin’s strange behavior; and the lion glared fiercely at her.
The two aëronauts hugged each other and laughed softly.
Again the lion essayed to slake his burning thirst at the glassy pool;
and again he retreated in rage and confusion. Attributing his trouble to
the leopard, evidently, he made a vicious slap at her with his great paw.
She sprang aside, spitting and snarling. The lion pursued her; and, to
escape, she sprang upon the slender trunk of the palm tree to whose top
the balloon was tied, and began a nimble and quick ascent.
“Oo—h!” Bob gasped.
“Murder!” croaked Fitz Mee.
Then, instantly, he jumped from the locker; and opened and shut the valve
of the air-tank, three or four times in quick succession.
“Pst! pst! pst!” hissed the escaping air, and the leopard, more alarmed
at the unknown danger above than at the known danger below, gave a yowl
of fright and leaped to the ground and loped out of sight.
Bob heaved a sigh of relief. “Fitz,” he whispered, “playing with wild
beasts is like playing with fire; a fellow’s likely to burn his fingers.”
The goblin nodded; then he jerked out:
“But look at the lion! Bob, look at the lion!”
The noble animal was not content to go without a drink; and once more he
was drawing near the spring, cautiously, slowly. A third time his nose
and tongue touched the water; and a third time he sprang back, startled
and enraged. And this time he rashly spatted the surface of the pool with
his paw, and let out a hoarse roar of futile rage, as the treacherous
liquid sent a stream of electricity tingling through his anatomy.
The two aëronauts were hunkered upon the locker, leaning far over the rim
of the basket and laughing heartily but softly. On a sudden the goblin’s
hands slipped and he fell headlong from the car—turning completely over
in mid air and lighting plump astride the lion’s back!