"Nothing, at least yet awhile, friend Ardan," replied Barbican, "I have
been watching the thermometer carefully for the last few minutes, and,
though we are at present at 38 deg. centigrade, or 100 deg. Fahrenheit, I have
noticed that the mercury is slowly falling. You can also easily remark
for yourself that the floor of the Projectile is turning away more and
more from the lunar surface. From this I conclude quite confidently, and
I see that the Captain agrees with me, that all danger of death from
intense heat, though decidedly alarming ten minutes ago, is over for the
present and, for some time at least, it may be dismissed from further
consideration."
"I'm not very sorry for it," said Ardan cheerfully; "neither to be
baked like a pie in an oven nor roasted like a fat goose before a fire
is the kind of death I should like to die of."
"Yet from such a death you would suffer no more than your friends the
Selenites are exposed to every day of their lives," said the Captain,
evidently determined on getting up an argument.
"I understand the full bearing of your allusion, my dear Captain,"
replied Ardan quickly, but not at all in a tone showing that he was
disposed to second M'Nicholl's expectations.
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