ther too profound for his overworked
brains.

Not that he ever thought of taking rest. Not that his companions thought
of taking rest. Far from it. With senses as high-strung as ever, they
still watched carefully for every new fact, every unexpected incident
that might throw some light on the sidereal investigations. Even their
dinner, or what was called so, consisted of only a few bits of bread and
meat, distributed by Ardan at five o'clock, and swallowed mechanically.
They did not even turn on the gas full head to see what they were
eating; each man stood solidly at his window, the glass of which they
had enough to do in keeping free from the rapidly condensing moisture.

At about half-past five, however, M'Nicholl, who had been gazing for
some time with his telescope in a particular direction, called the
attention of his companions to some bright specks of light barely
discernible in that part of the horizon towards which the Projectile was
evidently moving. His words were hardly uttered when his companions
announced the same discovery. They could soon all see the glittering
specks not only becoming more and more numerous, but also gradually
assuming the shape of an extremely slender, but extremely brilliant
crescent. Rapidly more brilliant and more decided in shape the profile
gradually grew, till it soon resembled the first faint sketch of the New
Moon that we catch of evenings in the western sky, or rather the first
glimpse we get of her limb as it slowly moves out of eclipse. But it was
inconceivably brighter than either, and was furthermore strangely
relieved by the pitchy blackness both of sky and Moon. In fact, it soon
became so brilliant as to dispel in a moment all doubt as to its
particular nature. No meteor could present such a perfect shape; no
volcano, such dazzling splendor.

"The Sun!" cried Barbican.

"The Sun?" asked M'Nicholl and Ardan in some astonishment.

"Yes, dear friends; it is the Sun himself that you now see; these
summits that you behold him gilding are the mountains that lie on the
Moon's southern rim. We are rapidly nearing her south pole."

"After doubling her north pole!" cried Ardan; "why, we must be
circumnavigating her!"

"Exactly; sailing all around her."

"Hurrah! Then we're all right at last! There's nothing more to fear from
your hyperbolas or parabolas or any other of your open curves!"

"Nothing more, certainly, from an open curve, but every thing from a
closed one."