m of life.

"What peaked mountain is that which we have just passed on our right?"
asked Ardan. "It is quite remarkable, standing as it does in almost
solitary grandeur in the barren plain."

"That is _Pico_," answered Barbican. "It is at least 8000 feet high and
is well known to terrestrial astronomers as well by its peculiar shadow
as on account of its comparative isolation. See the collection of
perfectly formed little craters nestling around its base."

"Barbican," asked M'Nicholl suddenly, "what peak is that which lies
almost directly south of _Pico_? I see it plainly, but I can't find it
on my map."

"I have remarked that pyramidal peak myself," replied Barbican; "but I
can assure you that so far it has received no name as yet, although it
is likely enough to have been distinguished by the terrestrial
astronomers. It can't be less than 4000 feet in height."

"I propose we called it _Barbican_!" cried Ardan enthusiastically.

"Agreed!" answered M'Nicholl, "unless we can find a higher one."

"We must be before-hand with Schmidt of Athens!" exclaimed Ardan. "He
will leave nothing unnamed that his telescope can catch a glimpse of."

"Passed unanimously!" cried M'Nicholl.

"And officially recorded!" added the Frenchman, making the proper entry
on his map.

"_Salve, Mt. Barbican!_" then cried both gentlemen, rising and taking
off their hats respectfully to the distant peak.

"Look to the west!" interrupted Barbican, watching, as usual, while his
companions were talking, and probably perfectly unconscious of what they
were saying; "directly to the west! Now tell me what you see!"

"I see a vast valley!" answered M'Nicholl.

"Straight as an arrow!" added Ardan.

"Running through lofty mountains!" cried M'Nicholl.

"Cut through with a pair of saws and scooped out with a chisel!" cried
Ardan.

"See the shadows of those peaks!" cried M'Nicholl catching fire at the
sight. "Black, long, and sharp as if cast by cathedral spires!"

"Oh! ye crags and peaks!" burst forth Ardan; "how I should like to catch
even a faint echo of the chorus you could chant, if a wild storm roared
over your beetling summits! The pine forests of Norwegian mountains
howling in midwinter would not be an accordeon in comparison!"

"Wonderful instance of subsidence on a grand scale!" exclaimed the
Captain, hastily relapsing into science.

"Not at all!" cried the Frenchman, still true to his colors; "no
subsidence there! A comet simply