“Yes,” Fitz laughed. “But you needn’t be alarmed, Bob; it’s an extinct volcano. Still the crust over it is so thin that the ground is always warm and the climate mild. Now we’re getting right over the place. Release the selector and pump up the air-tank; and we’ll soon cast anchor in port.” As they slowly descended Bob swept his eyes here and there, greedily taking in the scene. Goblinland was indeed the crater of an immense ancient volcano. The great pit was several miles in diameter and several hundred feet in depth, walled in by perpendicular cliffs of shiny, black, volcanic rock. Through the middle of this natural amphitheater ran a clear mountain brook; and on either side of the stream, near the center of the plain, were the rows of tiny stone houses constituting Goblinville. Shining white roadways wound here and there, graceful little bridges spanned the brook, and groves of green trees and beds of blooming flowers were everywhere. “How beautiful!” Bob exclaimed involuntarily. “Yes,” the goblin nodded, his eyes upon the village below, “to me, at least; it’s my home.” “I know now why you goblins always travel in balloons,” the lad remarked; “you can’t get out of your country in any other way.” Again Fitz Mee nodded absent-mindedly. Then he said: “My people are out to welcome us, Bob. Look down there in the public square.” The boy did as directed. “What a lot of ’em, Fitz!” he tittered gleefully. “And what bright-colored clothes they wear—red and green and blue and all colors!” “Yes,” Fitz Mee answered. Then, after a momentary pause: “The mayor will be present to greet us, Bob. He’ll make a speech; and you must be very polite and respectful. See them waving at us—and hear them cheering!” A few minutes later the balloon had touched the earth and eager hands had grasped the anchor-rope. “Hello! Hello, Fitz Mee! Welcome home, Fitz Mee!” were the hearty greetings that arose on all sides. Fitz Mee stepped to the ground, bowing and smiling, and Bob silently followed his example. The balloon was dragged away and the populace closed in upon the new arrivals, elbowing and jostling one another and chuckling and cackling immoderately. “Shake!” they cried. “Give us a wag of your paw, Fitz Mee! Shake, Bob Taylor!” There were goblins great and goblins small, goblins short and goblins tall; goblins fat and goblins lean, goblins red and goblins green; goblins young and goblins old, goblins timid, goblins bold; goblins dark and goblins fair—goblins, goblins everywhere! Bob was much amused at their cries and antics and just a little frightened at their exuberant friendliness. Fitz Mee shook hands with all comers, and chuckled and giggled good-naturedly. “Out of the way!” blustered a hoarse voice. “Out of the way for his honor, the mayor!”