“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!” CHAPTER VII 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.