It's
taking a mean advantage of us either way. As for ourselves--what can
_we_ do! Before such a monster as that we are as helpless as three men
in a little skiff shooting down the rapids to the brink of Niagara! Now
for it!"
Nearer and nearer it came, but without noise, without sparks, without a
trail, though its lower part was brighter than ever. Its path lying
little above them, the nearer it came the more the collision seemed
inevitable. Imagine yourself caught on a narrow railroad bridge at
midnight with an express train approaching at full speed, its reflector
already dazzling you with its light, the roar of the cars rattling in
your ears, and you may conceive the feelings of the travellers. At last
it was so near that the travellers started back in affright, with eyes
shut, hair on end, and fully believing their last hour had come. Even
then Ardan had his _mot_.
"We can neither switch off, down brakes, nor clap on more steam! Hard
luck!"
In an instant all was over. The velocity of the Projectile was
fortunately great enough to carry it barely above the dangerous point;
and in a flash the terrible bolide disappeared rapidly several hundred
yards beneath the affrighted travellers.
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