Chapter 9 - Page 2

difficult task.

The travellers set to work at once and soon accomplished it. The
different pieces were put together readily--a mere matter of bolts and
screws, with plenty of tools to manage them. In a short time the
repaired disc rested on its steel buffers, like a table on its legs, or
rather like a sofa seat on its springs. The new arrangement was attended
with at least one disadvantage. The bottom light being covered up, a
convenient view of the Moon's surface could not be had as soon as they
should begin to fall in a perpendicular descent. This, however, was only
a slight matter, as the side lights would permit the adventurers to
enjoy quite as favorable a view of the vast regions of the Moon as is
afforded to balloon travellers when looking down on the Earth over the
sides of their car.

The disc arrangement was completed in about an hour, but it was not till
past twelve o'clock before things were restored to their usual order.
Barbican then tried to make fresh observations regarding the inclination
of the Projectile; but to his very decided chagrin he found that it had
not yet turned over sufficiently to commence the perpendicular fall: on
the contrary, it even seemed to be following a curve rather parallel
with that of the lunar disc. The Queen of the Stars now glittered with a
light more dazzling than ever, whilst from an opposite part of the sky
the glorious King of Day flooded her with his fires.

The situation began to look a little serious.

"Shall we ever get there!" asked the Captain.

"Let us be prepared for getting there, any how," was Barbican's dubious
reply.

"You're a pretty pair of suspenders," said Ardan cheerily (he meant of
course doubting hesitators, but his fluent command of English sometimes
led him into such solecisms). "Certainly we shall get there--and perhaps
a little sooner than will be good for us."

This reply sharply recalled Barbican to the task he had undertaken, and
he now went to work seriously, trying to combine arrangements to break
the fall. The reader may perhaps remember Ardan's reply to the Captain
on the day of the famous meeting in Tampa.

"Your fall would be violent enough," the Captain had urged, "to splinter
you like glass into a thousand fragments."

"And what shall prevent me," had been Ardan's ready reply, "from
breaking my fall by means of counteracting rockets suitably disposed,
and let off at the proper time?"

The practical utility of this idea had at once impressed Barbican. It
could hardly be doubted that powerful rockets, fastened on the outside
to the bottom of the Projectile, could, when discharged, considerably
retard the