ARRIVED IN GOBLINLAND
All that day and all that night the two daring adventurers traveled
steadily and directly north-eastward, and at the dawn of the next
day they were floating high over western China. The air was thin and
penetrating and both were shivering with cold.
Fitz Mee, standing upon the locker and watching the sunrise through the
binocular, observed:
“We’re almost to our journey’s end, Bob.”
“Almost to Goblinland?” the boy queried.
“Yes; I can see it.”
“Where—where?” Bob cried eagerly, mounting to his comrade’s side.
“See that mountain top a little to the left yonder?”
“Yes.”
“Well, that’s Goblinland.”
“Oo—h!” Bob muttered. “It must be a pretty cold place to live.” And his
teeth chattered sympathetically at the thought.
“No, it isn’t,” the goblin assured him. “You see Goblinland is really the
crater of a volcano.”
“The crater of a volcano?” said Bob, in mild consternation.
“Yes,” Fitz laughed. “But you needn’t be alarmed, Bob; it’s an extinct
volcano. Still the crust over it is so thin that the ground is always
warm and the climate mild. Now we’re getting right over the place.
Release the selector and pump up the air-tank; and we’ll soon cast anchor
in port.”
As they slowly descended Bob swept his eyes here and there, greedily
taking in the scene. Goblinland was indeed the crater of an immense
ancient volcano. The great pit was several miles in diameter and several
hundred feet in depth, walled in by perpendicular cliffs of shiny,
black, volcanic rock. Through the middle of this natural amphitheater
ran a clear mountain brook; and on either side of the stream, near the
center of the plain, were the rows of tiny stone houses constituting
Goblinville. Shining white roadways wound here and there, graceful little
bridges spanned the brook, and groves of green trees and beds of blooming
flowers were everywhere.
“How beautiful!” Bob exclaimed involuntarily.
“Yes,” the goblin nodded, his eyes upon the village below, “to me, at
least; it’s my home.”
“I know now why you goblins always travel in balloons,” the lad remarked;
“you can’t get out of your country in any other way.”
Again Fitz Mee nodded absent-mindedly. Then he said: “My people are out
to welcome us, Bob. Look down there in the public square.”
The boy did as directed. “What a lot of ’em, Fitz!” he tittered
gleefully. “And what bright-colored clothes they wear—red and green and
blue and all colors!”
“Yes,” Fitz Mee answered. Then, after a momentary pause: “The mayor will
be present to greet us, Bob. He’ll make a speech; and you must be very
polite and respectful. See them waving at us—and hear them cheering!”
A few minutes later the balloon had touched the earth and eager hands had
grasped the anchor-rope.
“Hello! Hello, Fitz Mee! Welcome home, Fitz Mee!” were the hearty
greetings that arose on all sides.
Fitz Mee stepped to the ground, bowing and smiling, and Bob silently
followed his example. The balloon was dragged away and the populace
closed in upon the new arrivals, elbowing and jostling one another and
chuckling and cackling immoderately.
“Shake!” they cried. “Give us a wag of your paw, Fitz Mee! Shake, Bob
Taylor!”
There were goblins great and goblins small, goblins short and goblins
tall; goblins fat and goblins lean, goblins red and goblins green;
goblins young and goblins old, goblins timid, goblins bold; goblins dark
and goblins fair—goblins, goblins everywhere!
Bob was much amused at their cries and antics and just a little
frightened at their exuberant friendliness. Fitz Mee shook hands with all
comers, and chuckled and giggled good-naturedly.
“Out of the way!” blustered a hoarse voice. “Out of the way for his
honor, the mayor!”
A squad of rotund and husky goblins, in blue police uniforms and
armed with maces, came forcing in their way through the packed crowd.
Immediately behind them was the mayor, a pursy, wrinkled old fellow
wearing a long robe of purple velvet. The officers cleared a space for
him, and he advanced and said pompously:
[Illustration]
“Welcome, Fitz Mee, known the world over as the Little Green Goblin of
Goblinville. I proclaim you the bravest, if not the speediest, messenger
and minister Goblinland has ever known. Again, welcome home; and welcome
to your friend and comrade, Master Robert Taylor of Yankeeland. I trust
that he will find his stay among us pleasant, and that he will in no way
cause us to regret that we have made the experiment of admitting a human
being—and a boy at that!—to the sacred precincts of Goblinville. The
freedom of the country and the keys of the city shall be his. Once more,
a sincere and cordial welcome.”
Then to the officers: “Disperse the populace, and two of you escort the
Honorable Fitz Mee and his companion to their dwelling-place, that they
may seek the rest they greatly need after so arduous a journey.”
The officers promptly and energetically carried out the orders of their
chief.
When Fitz and Bob were alone in the former’s house, the latter remarked:
“Fitz, I believe I’ll like to live in Goblinville.”
“I—I hope you will, Bob,” was the rather disappointing reply.
“Hope I will? Don’t you think I will, Fitz?”
“I don’t know; boys are curious animals.”
“Well, I think I will. You know you said I could do as I pleased here.”
“Yes.”
“Say, Fitz?”
“Well.”
“How does it come that you goblins speak my language?”
“We speak any language—all languages.”
“You do?”
“Yes.”
“Why, how do you learn so many?”
“We don’t have to learn ’em; we just know ’em naturally—as we know
everything else we know at all.”
“My, that’s great! You don’t have to go to school, not study, nor
anything, do you?”
“No.”
“I wish I was a goblin.”
“But you’re not,” laughed Fitz Mee; “and you never will be.”
“But I’ll be a man some day, and that will be better.”
“Maybe you will.”
“Maybe?”
“You’ll never be a man if you stay in Goblinland.”
“I won’t?”
“No.”
“Won’t I ever grow any?”
“Not as long as you stay in Goblinland—and eat our kind of food.”
“Well, I’ll get older, and then I’ll be a man, or a goblin, or
something—won’t I?”
“You’ll still be a boy.”
“Pshaw!” Bob pouted. “I don’t like that. You told me I could be what I
pleased in Goblinland.”
“No, I didn’t,” Fitz Mee returned quietly but firmly. “I told you that in
our country boys—meaning goblin boys, of course—were compelled to do what
pleased them and were not permitted to do what pleased others. That law
or custom is still in effect; and you, as a human boy, will be subject to
it.”
“And I can do anything that pleases me?”
“You can’t do anything else.”
“Good!” Bob shouted gleefully. “I guess I’ll like Goblinland all right;
and I don’t care if I do stay a boy. Am I the first human boy that ever
got into your country, Fitz?”
“You’re the first human being of any kind that ever set foot in
Goblinland.”
“Is that so? Well, I’ll try not to make your people sorry you brought me
here, Fitz.”
“That’s all right, Bob,” his companion made reply, a little dejectedly,
the boy thought. “And what would you like to do first—now that you are in
a land that is absolutely new to you?”
“Fitz, I’d like to take a good long sleep.”
“That would please you?”
“Yes, indeed.”
“More than anything else, for the present?”
“Yes.”
“All right. Off to bed you go. You’ll find a couch in the next room. Go
in there and tumble down.”
“I will pretty soon.”
“But you must go now.”
“Must go now? Why?”
“Because it’s the law in Goblinland that a boy shall do what he
pleases—and at once.”
“Well, I won’t go to bed till I get ready, Fitz.”
“You don’t mean to defy the law, do you, Bob?”
“Doggone such an old law!” the lad muttered peevishly.
Fitz Mee giggled and held his sides and rocked to and fro.
“What’s the matter of you, anyhow?” Bob cried crossly.
His comrade continued to laugh, his knees drawn up to his chin, his fat
face convulsed.
“Old Giggle-box!” the boy stormed. “You think you’re smart—making fun of
me.”
Fitz Mee grew grave at once.
“Bob,” he said soberly, “you’ll get into trouble, and you’ll get me into
trouble.”
“I don’t care.”
“Go to bed at once, that’s a good boy.”
“I won’t do it.”
Just then the outer door opened and a uniformed officer stepped into the
room.
“His honor, the mayor, begs me to say,” he gravely announced, “that as
Master Robert Taylor has said that he would be pleased to sleep, he must
go to sleep—and at once. His honor trusts that Master Taylor will respect
and obey the law of the land, without further warning.”
The officer bowed and turned and left the house.
“Well, I declare!” Bob gasped, completely taken aback. “What kind of a
country is this, anyhow?”
Fitz Mee tumbled to the floor, and rolled and roared.
[Illustration]
The ludicrousness of the situation appealed to the fun-loving Bob, and he
joined in his companion’s merriment. Together they wallowed and kicked
upon the floor, prodding each other in the ribs and indulging in other
rude antics indicative of their exuberant glee.
When they had their laugh out Bob remarked:
“Well, I’ll go to bed, Fitz, just to obey the law; but I don’t suppose I
can snooze a bit.”
Contrary to his expectations, however, the lad, really wearier than he
realized, soon fell asleep. He slept through the day and far into the
hours of darkness; and it was almost dawn of the next day when he awoke.
He quietly arose and began to inspect his surroundings. A soft white
radiance flooded the room. He drew aside the window-blind and peeped out.
Darkness reigned, but bright lights twinkled here and there. He dropped
the blind and again turned his attention to the things within.
“I wonder if Fitz is awake,” he mumbled; “I’m hungry. I suppose he slept
on the couch in the next room. I wonder where all this brightness comes
from; I don’t see a lamp of any kind. Huh! It comes from that funny
little black thing on the stand there. What kind of lamp can it be—hey?”
He walked over and looked at the strange object—a small perforated
cone, from the many holes of which the white light streamed. Noticing a
projecting button near the top of the black cone, he made hold to touch
it and give it a slight turn. Instantly the holes had closed and the room
was in darkness. He turned the button back again; and the holes were open
and the room was light as day.
“Well, that beats _me_!” muttered Bob. “It looks like an electric light;
but I don’t see any wires. There aren’t any wires. I must find Fitz and
learn about this thing.”
He peeped into the adjoining room, which was in darkness, and called:
“Fitz! Oh, Fitz! Are you asleep, Fitz?”
“Huh?” was the startled reply. “Yes—no, I guess so—I guess not, I mean.”
Bob laughed.
“Well, get up and come in here,” he said.
“Why, it isn’t morning yet,” the goblin objected.
“I’ve had my sleep out, anyhow.”
“_I_ haven’t.”
“Well, get up and come in here, won’t you?”
“I suppose I might as well,” grumbled Fitz; “you won’t let me sleep any
more.”
Then, appearing in the doorway and rubbing his pop eyes and blinking:
“Now, what do you want?”
“First, I want to know what kind of a light this is,” indicating the
little black cone.
“Why, it’s an electric light, of course,” Fitz Mee made answer, in a tone
that showed his wonder and surprise that Bob should ask such a question.
“I don’t see how it can be, I don’t see any wires.”
“Wires?” chuckled Fitz. “We don’t need any wires.”
“Well, where does the electricity come from, then?”
“From the bug under the cone.”
“The bug?”
“Yes, the electric firefly. Didn’t you ever see one?”
Bob shook his head—half in negation, half in incredulity.
“Well, I guess they’re peculiar to Goblinland, then,” Fitz went on,
grinning impishly. “We raise them here by thousands and use them for
lighting purposes. The electric firefly is a great bug. Like the electric
eel, it gives one a shock if he touches it; and like the ordinary
firefly, it sheds light—but electric light, and very bright. I’ll show
you.” He gingerly lifted the perforated cone.
There lay a bug, sure enough, a bug about the size of a hickory-nut, and
so scintillant, so bright, that the eye could hardly gaze upon it.
“And this is the only kind of light you have in Goblinland, Fitz?” the
boy asked.
“Yes. We light our houses, our streets, our factories, our mines,
everything with them.”
“Wonderful!” Bob exclaimed. “And what do you do for fire, for heat?”
“We don’t need heat for our dwellings. Owing to the fact that our
country is protected from all cold winds by the high cliffs around it,
and that the earth crust is thin over the fires of the volcano below, the
temperature remains about eighty the year round. Then, we don’t cook any
crude, nasty food, as you humans do; so—”
“No, you live on pills,” Bob interjected, in a tone of scorn and disgust.
“Bah!”
“So,” Fitz Mee went on smoothly, unheeding his comrade’s splenetic
interruption, “all we need heat for is in running our factories. For that
we bore down to the internal fire of the earth.”
“Well—well!” Bob ejaculated. “You do?”
“Yes.”
“Well, where are your factories, Fitz? I didn’t see anything that looked
like factories when we got out of the balloon.”
“They’re all in caverns hewed in the cliffs.”
“And the fire you use comes from ’way down in the ground?”
“Yes.”
“And you light your factories with electric fireflies?”
The goblin gravely nodded. Bob was thoughtfully silent for a moment; then
he remarked:
“It must be awfully hot work in your factories—the men shut up in caves,
and no fresh air.”
“We have plenty of fresh air in our works,” Fitz hastened to make plain;
“we have large funnel-shaped tubes running up to the mountain-tops. The
cold wind pours down through them, and we can turn it on or off at our
pleasure.”
“Say!” Bob cried.
“What?” queried his companion.
“I’d like to go through your factories.”
“You mean what you say, Bob?”
“Mean what I say?” said Bob, in surprise bordering on indignation. “Of
course I do.”
“That you’d like to go through our factories?”
“Certainly. Why not?”
“When do you want to make the—the experiment—the effort?”
“To-day—right away, soon as we’ve had something to eat.”
“All right, Bob,”—with a smile and a shake of the head,—“but—”
“But what?”
“Nothing. We’ll have breakfast and be off. It’s coming daylight, and the
factories will be running full blast in an hour from now.”
“More pills for breakfast, I reckon,” Bob grumbled surlily.
“More tablets and pellets,” Fitz Mee grinned, rubbing his hands together
and rolling his pop eyes.
“Huh!” the boy grunted ungraciously. “I wish you folks cooked and ate
food like civilized people. I’m getting tired of nothing but pills. I
can’t stand it very long—that’s all.”
“You’ll get used to it,” the goblin said, consolingly.
“Used to it!” the boy snorted angrily. “Yes, I’ll get used to it like
the old man’s cow got used to living on sawdust; about the time she was
getting used to it she died.” But he accepted the pellets and tablets his
companion offered him, and meekly swallowed them. Then they caught up
their caps and left the house.