“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.