ind, and I denounce every one that maintains any such whim as a
visionary, if not a fool!"

Ardan's reply to this taunt was a desperate facer, which, however,
Barbican managed to stop while on its way towards the Captain's nose.
M'Nicholl, seeing himself struck at, immediately assumed such a posture
of defence as showed him to be no novice at the business. A battle
seemed unavoidable; but even at this trying moment Barbican showed
himself equal to the emergency.

"Stop, you crazy fellows! you ninnyhammers! you overgrown babies!" he
exclaimed, seizing his companions by the collar, and violently swinging
them around with his vast strength until they stood back to back; "what
are you going to fight about? Suppose there are Lunarians in the Moon!
Is that a reason why there should be Lunatics in the Projectile! But,
Ardan, why do you insist on Lunarians? Are we so shiftless that we can't
do without them when we get to the Moon?"

"I don't insist on them!" cried Ardan, who submitted to Barbican like a
child. "Hang the Lunarians! Certainly, we can do without them! What do I
care for them? Down with them!"

"Yes, down with the Lunarians!" cried M'Nicholl as spitefully as if he
had even the slightest belief in their existence.

"We shall take possession of the Moon ourselves!" cried Ardan.
"Lunarians or no Lunarians!"

"We three shall constitute a Republic!" cried M'Nicholl.

"I shall be the House!" cried Ardan.

"And I the Senate!" answered the Captain.

"And Barbican our first President!" shrieked the Frenchman.

"Our first and last!" roared M'Nicholl.

"No objections to a third term!" yelled Ardan.

"He's welcome to any number of terms he pleases!" vociferated M'Nicholl.

"Hurrah for President Barbican of the Lunatic--I mean of the Lunar
Republic!" screamed Ardan.

"Long may he wave, and may his shadow never grow less!" shouted Captain
M'Nicholl, his eyes almost out of their sockets.

Then with voices reminding you of sand fiercely blown against the window
panes, the _President_ and the _Senate_ chanted the immortal _Yankee
Doodle_, whilst the _House_ delivered itself of the _Marseillaise_, in a
style which even the wildest Jacobins in Robespierre's day could hardly
have surpassed.

But long before either song was ended, all three broke out into a
dance, wild, insensate, furious, delirious, paroxysmatical. No Orphic
festivals on Mount Cithaeron ever raged more wildly. No Bacchic revels
on Mount Parnassus w