“Sure?”
“Sure, if we want to.”
“Well, we’ll want to, won’t we?”
“It’ll be fun to wait till it’s nearly upon us and then run away from it, I think. Don’t you?”
“I—I don’t know,” Bob returned, dubiously shaking his head, his gaze still riveted upon the rising storm; “it might not be fun.”
“You’re afraid,” sneered the goblin.
“No, I’m—I’m not.”
“Yes, you are; you’re a coward.”
“Don’t you call me that!” the lad cried, snatching the binocular from his eyes and angrily turning upon his Companion.
“I won’t,” the goblin promised. “Now turn your glass toward the east. What do you see?”