"We're not to land in the Moon! Well! let us do the next best
thing--pass close enough to discover her secrets!"
But M'Nicholl could not accept the situation so coolly. On the contrary,
he decidedly lost his temper, as is occasionally the case with even
phlegmatic men. He muttered an oath or two, but in a voice hardly loud
enough to reach Barbican's ear. At last, impatient of further restraint,
he burst out:
"Who the deuce cares for her secrets? To the hangman with her secrets!
We started to land in the Moon! That's what's got to be done! That I
want or nothing! Confound the darned thing, I say, whatever it was,
whether on the Earth or off it, that shoved us off the track!"
"On the Earth or off it!" cried Barbican, striking his head suddenly;
"now I see it! You're right, Captain! Confound the bolide that we met
the first night of our journey!"
"Hey?" cried Ardan.
"What do you mean?" asked M'Nicholl.
"I mean," replied Barbican, with a voice now perfectly calm, and in a
tone of quiet conviction, "that our deviation is due altogether to that
wandering meteor."
"Why, it did not even graze us!" cried Ardan.
"No matter for that," replied Barbican.
Pages:
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177