The Voyages of Doctor Dolittle by Hugh Lofting

all the rest of us put together; and if he has gone without
any one to write it down for him, so the world may be the better for
it, it would be a terrible thing. But you don't really think that he is
dead, do you?"
    "What else can I think?" asked Miranda, bursting into tears, "when for
six whole months he has not been seen by flesh, fish or fowl."

The Eleventh Chapter. Blind Travel
*
    THIS news about Long Arrow made us all very sad. And I could see from
the silent dreamy way the Doctor took his tea that he was dreadfully
upset. Every once in a while he would stop eating altogether and sit
staring at the spots on the kitchen table-cloth as though his thoughts
were far away; till Dab-Dab, who was watching to see that he got a good
meal, would cough or rattle the pots in the sink.
    I did my best to cheer him up by reminding him of all he had done for
Luke and his wife that afternoon. And when that didn't seem to work, I
went on talking about our preparations for the voyage.
    "But you see, Stubbins," said he as we rose from the table and Dab-Dab
and Chee-Chee began to clear away, "I don't know where to go now. I feel
sort of lost since Miranda brought me this news. On this voyage I had
planned going to see Long Arrow. I had been looking forward to it for
a whole year. I felt he might help me in learning the language of the
shellfish—and perhaps in finding some way of getting to the bottom of
the sea. But now?—He's gone! And all his great knowledge has gone with
him."
    Then he seemed to fall a-dreaming again.
    "Just to think of it!" he murmured. "Long Arrow and I, two
students—Although I'd never met him, I felt as though I knew him quite
well. For, in his way—without any schooling—he has, all his life, been
trying to do the very things which I have tried to do in mine—And now
he's gone!—A whole world lay between us—And only a bird knew us both!"
    We went back into the study, where Jip brought the Doctor his slippers
and his pipe. And after the pipe was lit and the smoke began to fill the
room the old man seemed to cheer up a little.
    "But you will go on some voyage, Doctor, won't you?" I asked—"even if
you can't go to find Long Arrow."
    He looked up sharply into my face; and I suppose he saw how anxious I
was. Because he suddenly smiled his old, boyish smile and said,
    "Yes, Stubbins. Don't worry. We'll go. We mustn't stop working and
learning, even if poor Long Arrow has disappeared—But where to go:
that's the question. Where shall we go?"
    There were so many places that I wanted to go that I couldn't make up
my mind right away. And while I was still thinking, the Doctor sat up in
his chair and said,
    "I tell you what we'll do, Stubbins: it's a game I used to play when I
was young—before Sarah came to live with me. I used to call it Blind
Travel. Whenever I wanted to go on a voyage, and I couldn't make up my
mind where to go, I would take the atlas and open it with my eyes shut.
Next, I'd wave a pencil, still without looking, and stick it down on
whatever page had fallen open. Then I'd open my eyes and look. It's a
very exciting game, is Blind Travel. Because you have to swear, before
you begin, that you will go to the place the pencil touches, come what
way. Shall we play it?"
    "Oh, let's!" I almost yelled. "How thrilling! I hope it's China—or
Borneo—or Bagdad."
    And in a moment I had scrambled up the bookcase, dragged the big atlas
from the top shelf and laid it on the table before the Doctor.
    I knew every page in that atlas by heart. How many days and nights I
had lingered over its old faded maps, following the blue rivers from
the mountains to the sea; wondering what the little towns really looked
like, and how wide were the sprawling lakes! I had had a lot of fun with
that atlas, traveling, in my mind, all over the world. I can see it
now: the first page had no map; it just told you that it was printed in
Edinburgh in 1808, and a whole lot more about the book. The next page
was the Solar System,