But Ellen looked about her in dismay. They were in the midst of a great barren desert. There was no tree nor house in sight, no bird nor living thing.
Yes, there was one thing alive, for just as Ellen thought this, something stirred and stood up from a heap of rocks nearby. It was a lad of about twelve or thirteen. At first Ellen thought it was the son of the gardener they had at home; it certainly looked like him. The little girl was very fond of this lad, though people used to say he was queer and not quite right in his mind. He often made up stories and told them to her. She never had felt as glad to see him, though, as she felt then. When she went closer, however, the lad did not seem to know her, so she wondered whether it was the gardener's son after all. It certainly looked like him.
"Was that you blowing a horn?" asked the lad.
"Yes; we were lost in the mist and wanted to get out, but we wanted to get out on the side where the Queerbodies live."
Ellen looked about her. "But where are they? I saw their shadows on the mist."
The lad laughed. "Oh that's nothing. Why, I used to see their shadows against the sky even when I was at home, but you'll have to travel far from here before you find them. I suppose you have a compass."
"To find your way across the desert. Now I have a compass all right, but I'm so tired I can't go a step further." The lad paused and looked at the gander. "I don't suppose your gander could carry double?"
"Well, I didn't think you could, but it's too bad, for I could have told you how to go. If I only had brought anything to begin with I'd make something to ride on; but I didn't know the journey would be so long and weary."
"Do you mean," said Ellen, "that if you had anything to begin with you could _really_ make something to ride on?"
"Oh yes. Almost everybody, before they start out for the Queerbodies', learns to make something out of nothing; but I was in such a hurry to start I only learned to make much out of little, and that's the trouble now."
"Haven't you anything in your pocket to begin on?" asked Ellen, for the lad's pockets were bulging with something that jingled every time he moved.
"Nothing that would do. It must be something that was once alive. Now you don't happen to have such a thing about you as a twig or a chip of wood?"