“Isn’t this fun!” she kept repeating merrily. “Isn’t this fun?” Grampa nodded, but not very enthusiastically.
“Do you think we’ll ever get back on top again?” asked Tatters gloomily.
“Of course,” spluttered Grampa. “We’ve fallen down about as far as we can fall and from now on things will take an upward turn, you see. Hello, this water’s kinda hot! Great swordfish, what’s that noise?”
“The fortune! The fortune!” shrieked Bill, jumping up and down upon Tatters’ thin chest and ducking the Prince at every jump. “The fortune!”
With a great effort, Grampa sat up in the water, which was already beginning to steam, and then fell backward with a terrific splash.
“Halt!” commanded Grampa, trying to push against the current with his sword. “Stop! Halt!” A great roaring was in their ears and the green light had changed to a red hot glow. Now Tatters sat up. Then he, too, began to kick wildly about in an effort to stop himself. And no wonder! They were being carried straight toward a roaring red island of fire!
“The fortune! The fortune!” screeched Bill, more excited than ever.
“Fortune!” groaned Grampa, reaching out to catch Urtha, who was floating rapidly past. “Misfortune! Halt! Stop! Everybody back!”
“Better stop backing and look on that bottle,” gulped the Prince of Ragbad. “Better see if there’s any cure for—for this!” He waved desperately ahead. And Grampa, with a little choke of fright, pulled out the wizard’s medicine. “Burns, scalds and heat strokes,” faltered Grampa. “Well, we’d better take the cure for all three. A teaspoonful was prescribed in each case and with trembling hands the old soldier measured out the doses. Bill could not swallow, so the old soldier dashed the medicine over his head.”