“Well, let’s be off. I’m anxious to get back home.” “Back home?” springing nimbly to his feet. “Yes.” “Back _home_!” “That’s what I said.” “But, Bob, you’re not going back home.” [Illustration] “But I am.” “I say you’re _not_!” “And I say I _am_!” “Bob, you _can’t_!” “Fitz, I _can_!” “You _shan’t_!” “I _will_!” “You’re a spoiled, stubborn boy, Roberty-Boberty Taylor.” “And you’re a contrary old goblin, Mr. Epilepsy Spasms Convulsions Fitz Mee. Now!” “Bob, you ought to be ashamed to call a comrade naughty names.” “I _am_; but you called me names first.” “I know I did; and I’m sorry. But, Bob, why do you desire to go back home?” “Because I’m tired of being _away_ from home; because I’m tired of adventure.” “But you haven’t seen Goblinland yet.” “I don’t care; I don’t want to see it, I—I guess.” “Yes, you do. And you must go with me, Bob.” “Why must I?” “Because.” “Well, because what?” “I hate to tell you.” “Yes, tell me.” “Because my head will come off, if you don’t.” Bob started. “Is that what the mayor told you?” he inquired. “Is that what made you turn so pale?” The goblin nodded gravely; and said: “Yes, he said if I didn’t have you in Goblinland by to-morrow forenoon, he’d have my head cut off.” “Why, he’s a cruel old tyrant!” the boy cried hotly. “No, he isn’t,” the goblin protested; “he has to do what he said he’d do. It’s the law, you know; the law that when one agrees to do a certain thing by a certain time, he must do it or suffer death.” “Well, such a fool law!” Bob muttered testily. “I don’t want to go to a country that has such laws; and I won’t.” “Bob, remember—if you don’t go with me, I’ll be killed.” The boy was silent for some moments. Then he said: “Well, Fitz, I’ll go with you—to save your life; but I wish I hadn’t come with you at all.” A few minutes later they were again off for Goblinland. CHAPTER X 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.