Having
neither slept all night, nor eaten all day, the poor fellow's system had
become so weak that such unexpected news was really more than he could
bear. Besides, as one of the Cambridge men of the party, a young medical
student, remarked: the thin, cold air of these high mountains was
extremely enervating.
The astronomers, all exceedingly alarmed, did what they could to recover
their friend from his fit, but it was nearly ten minutes before they had
the satisfaction of seeing his limbs moving with a slight quiver and
his breast beginning to heave. At last the color came back to his face
and his eyes opened. He stared around for a few seconds at his friends,
evidently unconscious, but his senses were not long in returning.
"Say!" he uttered at last in a faint voice.
"Well!" replied Belfast.
"Where is that infernal Pro--pro--jectile?"
"In the Pacific Ocean."
"What??"
He was on his feet in an instant.
"Say that again!"
"In the Pacific Ocean."
"Hurrah! All right! Old Barbican's not made into mincemeat yet! No,
sirree! Let's start!"
"Where for?"
"San Francisco!"
"When?"
"This instant!"
"In the dark?"
"We shall soon have the light of the Moon! Curse her! it's the least she
can do after all the trouble she has given us!"
CHAPTER XXII.
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