“Whew!” whistled the goblin. “I hadn’t thought of that. We’d better get away from here before those Arabs discover what we’ve done to the spring, Bob. They’ll be mad when they find out; and they might shoot us with the long guns they carry. Sh! There comes one with a camel now.” [Illustration] The two aëronauts kept perfectly quiet. The Arab swiftly approached the spring, leading his camel and hugging an empty waterskin to his breast. The beast of burden tried to get at the tempting water, and its owner tried to keep it back, scolding and jerking at the halter-rope. But the camel succeeded in touching the water with its nose; and immediately it surged backward, coughing and shivering. The Arab, in an effort to control the frightened animal, chanced to set his foot in the edge of the pool. Then he gave a startled yell and danced about on one leg, grimacing and grunting. The whole thing was so funny that Bob could not restrain a snort of laughter. The Arab cast his gaze aloft. Then he yelled louder than before, dropped the halter-rope, and sped away to tell his companions of his wonderful experience and discovery. “You’ve played the mischief, Bob!” Fitz Mee grumbled, but grinning in spite of himself. “Untie that rope; let’s get out of here.” The boy was prompt to obey. Fitz released the air; and the balloon began to rise slowly, steadily, floating out over the shining sands. At that moment, however, the whole band of Arabs put in an appearance at the edge of the oasis; and, with shouts and imprecations, raised their guns and fired at the rising air-ship. The bullets whistled around the two adventurers, causing them to drop precipitately to the bottom of the car. “You hurt, Bob?” Fitz inquired. “No. You?” “No.” “Bully!” “That’s what _I_ say!” “But, Fitz, that was a close shave.” “Too close for comfort.” “Look here! One bullet went through the basket.” “Yes and look there! Another one went through the balloon-bag.” “They didn’t do any harm, though—eh?” “No.” “I’m glad they didn’t. And now I want to get out of this country; I’m tired of it.” “So am I. And I’ll set the needle north-east, for Goblinville; and away we’ll go. Hurrah!” “Hurrah!” the boy echoed. “Well—well!” the goblin mumbled irritably, fumbling at the selector. “What’s the matter _now_, Fitz?” Bob cried impatiently, stooping to ascertain the cause of his companion’s exclamatory remark. “The selector’s out of fix again, Bob. The needle won’t point any way but south.” “And—and, Fitz!” “Huh!” springing erect. “See how fast we’re going directly south.” “Yes,” nodding gravely, “and there’s hardly any power at all turned on.” “Shut it all off, Fitz.” “I will,” croaked the goblin. And he did so. Still the balloon slowly drifted southward. “What are we to do, Fitz?” “Indeed I don’t know,” the little green fellow answered dejectedly. “We’re going faster again.” “I see.”