a noise of thunder; then the
multitude round Stony Hill heartily united their shouts to those of the
ten revellers hidden from sight in the depths of the gigantic Columbiad.

J.T. Maston could contain himself no longer. Whether he shouted or ate,
gesticulated or talked most would be difficult to determine. Any way he
would not have given up his place for an empire, "not even if the
cannon--loaded, primed, and fired at that very moment--were to blow him
in pieces into the planetary universe."

CHAPTER XVII.

A TELEGRAM.

The great work undertaken by the Gun Club was now virtually ended, and
yet two months would still elapse before the day the projectile would
start for the moon. These two months would seem as long as two years to
the universal impatience. Until then the smallest details of each
operation had appeared in the newspapers every day, and were eagerly
devoured by the public, but now it was to be feared that this "interest
dividend" would be much diminished, and every one was afraid of no
longer receiving his daily share of emotions.

They were all agreeably disappointed: the most unexpected,
extraordinary, incredible, and improbable incident happened in time to
keep up the general excitement to its highest pitch.

On September 30th, at 3.47 p.m., a telegram, transmitted through the
Atlantic Cable, arrived at Tampa Town for President Barbicane.

He tore open the envelope and read the message, and, notwithstanding his
great self-control, his lips grew pale and his eyes dim as he read the
telegram.

The following is the text of the message stored in the archives of the
Gun Club:--

"France, Paris,

"September 30th, 4 a.m.

"Barbicane, Tampa Town, Florida, United States.

"Substitute a cylindro-conical projectile for your spherical shell.
Shall go inside. Shall arrive by steamer _Atlanta_.

"MICHEL ARDAN."

CHAPTER XVIII.

THE PASSENGER OF THE ATLANTA.

If this wonderful news, instead of coming by telegraph, had simply
arrived by post and in a sealed envelope--if the French, Irish,
Newfoundland, and American telegraph clerks had not necessarily been
acquainted with it--Barbicane would not have hesitated for a moment. He
would have been quite silent about it for prudence' sake, and in order
not to throw discredit on his work. This telegram might be a practical
joke, especially as it came from a Frenchman. What probability could
there be that any man should conceive the idea of