Bob finished his fruit—to the last date. Then he went to the great spring near at hand, and lay down and drank his fill. He set out to return to his comrade; but suddenly he became so ill that he dropped upon the ground and rolled and writhed and groaned. Fitz came flying to him.
“Here, Bob,” he said quietly, “take this,” offering the wriggling boy a tablet.
“Oh! pills! pills! pills!” Bob moaned. But he took the tablet and downed it; and soon he was relieved of the fruit—and his pain. Sheepishly he got on his feet and sauntered back to the balloon, crestfallen and subdued. All Fitz Mee said to him was:
“I guess you’ll know enough to stick to goblin diet after this.”
And Bob made no reply.
The sun had gone down; dusky shadows were gathering from far and near and throwing themselves prone upon the desert sands. The air, that all the afternoon had been so hot, was growing chill.
“I’m sleepy,” Bob remarked, dropping upon the warm earth and stretching full length.
“Well, you mustn’t go to sleep there,” Fitz replied.
“Why?” the boy queried.
“You’ll see why when it grows a little darker. Wild beasts will be prowling around here, after food and water.”