“I can make the balloon go faster,” Fitz suggested. “I’ll take your word for it,” Bob grinned, shaking his head. They got up and seated themselves upon the locker. “Well,” the goblin remarked, yawning, “what do you think of us goblins as balloonists?” “I think you’re the candy,” Bob replied, his voice and manner evincing profound admiration. “The candy?” snickered his companion. “What do you mean by that?” “I think you’re the best ever.” “Oh! Better than you humans, eh?” “Far better.” “That so?” “Yes, indeed. And When I come back from Goblinland, I’m going to get patents on your air-ballast machine and your wireless selector; and some day I’ll be a mighty rich man—a millionaire.” The goblin grinned a very broad grin. “You’re going to take out patents on our inventions, you say, Bob?” he remarked. “Yes,” the boy made reply. “When you return from Goblinland, eh?” “Yes.” Fitz Mee gulped and screwed his features. Then he began to chuckle silently, and at last he burst out laughing. “What’s the matter?” Bob inquired, half in wonder, half in pique. “Oh, it’s so funny,” croaked the goblin, and he went into another spasm of rasping, cackling laughter. “It _must_ be funny,” the boy grunted peevishly. “But what’s so funny?” “The thought of your returning from Goblinland, Bob,” Fitz Mee replied, sobering and wiping his eyes. “Why, can’t I return—if I ever want to?” [Illustration] “You can, I suppose; but I doubt if you ever will.” “Why?” “Oh, ’cause.” “Well, ’cause what?” “You won’t want to, after you’ve been there a day or two.” “That’s it, eh?” The goblin nodded and winked seriocomically, mysteriously. Then he said: “Now we’ve got to ascend a few thousand feet to clear the tops of the Alleghany mountains. Let a little more air out of the tank. There—that’s enough. It’ll be quite cool at the altitude to which we’ll rise, so we’d better put on the fur coats that are in the locker under you, Bob, and curl down in the car and snooze awhile.” A few minutes later the two were asleep and the feather-bed balloon was topping the Alleghanies. CHAPTER III THROUGH A STORM IN A BALLOON On awaking Bob was a little confused. But soon he remembered where he was, and he sat up and blinked and looked around for his companion. Fitz Mee stood upon the locker, a tiny binocular glued to his pop eyes, gazing intently at the western horizon. It was gray daylight, and they were making good speed. “What’s the matter, Fitz?” Bob demanded, alert and interested at once. “What’re you looking at?” “Looking at a storm gathering,” the goblin replied, without turning his head. The boy rose to his feet, removed his fur coat, and wadded it into a ball and stuffed it into the locker. “Storm?” he said. “I don’t see any signs of a storm.” “Don’t you see that blue line along the horizon?” Fitz asked. “Yes. Is that the storm?” “No; that’s the mountains we crossed. But take this glass and you can see the storm gathering on their tops. See it?”