to the burner of the receptacle, in which there
was enough carbonised hydrogen, stored under strong pressure, for
lighting and heating the bullet for 144 hours, or six days and six
nights.

Once the gas lighted, the projectile presented the aspect of a
comfortable room with padded walls, furnished with circular divans, the
roof of which was in the shape of a dome.

The objects in it, weapons, instruments, and utensils, were solidly
fastened to the sides in order to bear the parting shock with impunity.
Every possible precaution had been taken to insure the success of so
bold an experiment.

Michel Ardan examined everything, and declared himself quite satisfied
with his quarters.

"It is a prison," said he, "but a travelling prison, and if I had the
right to put my nose to the window I would take it on a hundred years'
lease! You are smiling, Barbicane. You are thinking of something you do
not communicate. Do you say to yourself that this prison may be our
coffin? Our coffin let it be; I would not change it for Mahomet's, which
only hangs in space, and does not move!"

Whilst Michel Ardan was talking thus, Barbicane and Nicholl were making
their last preparations.

It was 10.20 p.m. by Nicholl's chronometer when the three travellers
were definitely walled up in their bullet. This chronometer was
regulated to the tenth of a second by that of the engineer, Murchison.
Barbicane looked at it.

"My friends," said he, "it is twenty minutes past ten; at thirteen
minutes to eleven Murchison will set fire to the Columbiad; at that
minute precisely we shall leave our spheroid. We have, therefore, still
seven-and-twenty minutes to remain upon earth."

"Twenty-six minutes and thirteen seconds," answered the methodical
Nicholl.

"Very well!" cried Michel Ardan good-humouredly; "in twenty-six minutes
lots of things can be done. We can discuss grave moral or political
questions, and even solve them. Twenty-six minutes well employed are
worth more than twenty-six years of doing nothing. A few seconds of a
Pascal or a Newton are more precious than the whole existence of a crowd
of imbeciles."

"And what do you conclude from that, talker eternal?" asked President
Barbicane.

"I conclude that we have twenty-six minutes," answered Ardan.

"Twenty-four only," said Nicholl.

"Twenty-four, then, if you like, brave captain," answered Ardan;
"twenty-four minutes, during which we might investigate--"

"Michel," said Barbicane,