“Yes, except no wire is needed.” “I don’t see how you tell which way it’ll go, though.” “The balloon?” “Yes.” “It’ll go whichever way the needle points.” “Why will it?” “Well, the needle of a compass points north, doesn’t it?” “Yes.” “Why does it?” “Because—because—I don’t know, I guess,” Bob admitted. “Because the attraction swings it, isn’t that it?” “I suppose so.” “Well, if the attraction swings the needle, won’t the needle swing the attraction?” “I—I don’t know,” the boy stammered; “I never heard of such a thing!” “Isn’t it a poor rule that won’t work both ways?” “Yes; that’s what folks say, anyhow.” “Well, it is—a mighty poor rule. Now I’ll show you. Watch me. I desire to travel due east; so I point this little needle in that direction. That done, I turn this thumb-screw, and off we start.” Slowly the balloon began to move toward the east, over the village, across the river, gradually leaving the valley behind. “I turn the screw a little more and a little more,” said the goblin, suiting the action to the words, “and we begin to travel faster and faster.” Soon they were going at a rapid and exhilarating speed. The air appeared to whistle past as they cut through it; the moonlit landscape appeared to flow away behind and beneath them. “My—my!” Bob cried, gleefully clapping his hands. “I never expected to travel as fast as this. Fitz, this is simply great.” “You don’t call this gentle speed going fast, do you, Bob?” Fitz returned, grinning broadly. “Indeed I do,” the boy replied earnestly. “Oh, we’re just loafing along!” the goblin chuckled. “I’ll show you how I travel when I’m in a hurry to get along. Take off your cap, or you’ll lose it, and hold on to the car. Now!” With the last word he gave another turn to the thumb-screw of the selector. The balloon leaped forward like a mad thing of life; the fragile car strained and quivered. Bob clutched the seat with both hands and held on for dear life. The air appeared to rush past in a cutting, shrieking tempest of wrath, that blinded and deafened the boy. He tried to scream out, but could not. He felt his grip upon the seat weakening, and, fearing he might be swept overboard, he loosened his hold and threw himself to the bottom of the car. There he lay, panting and gasping—sick with mortal terror. Then, of a sudden, the mad speed of the balloon began to slacken and the boy gradually gathered up courage to open his eyes and look around. There sat the impish Fitz Mee by the selector, his hand upon the thumb-screw. “Hello!” the goblin grinned apishly. “Hello!” the boy muttered in reply. “How did you like it?” queried the goblin. “I didn’t like it,” answered the lad. “Wasn’t it fast enough for you?” “Too fast.” “Oh!” “Uh-huh.” “Wouldn’t you like to try it just a little bit faster, eh?” “No _sir_!” “It’s great fun—when you learn to like it.” “Yes,” Bob grumbled; “and taking pills is great fun—when you learn to _like_ ’em.”