"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, showing the sun and planets, the stars and the moon. The
third page was the chart of the North and South Poles. Then came
the hemispheres, the oceans, the continents and the countries.
As the Doctor began sharpening his pencil a thought came to me.
"What if the pencil falls upon the North Pole," I asked, "will we
have to go there?"
"No. The rules of the game say you don't have to go any place
you've been to before. You are allowed another try. I've been to
the North Pole," he ended quietly, "so we shan't have to go
there." I could hardly speak with astonishment.
"YOU'VE BEEN TO THE NORTH POLE!" I managed to gasp out at last.
"But I thought it was still undiscovered. The map shows all the
places explorers have reached to, TRYING to get there. Why isn't
your name down if you discovered it?"
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