“Yes,” answered the president of the Gun Club.

“Well, good morning, Barbicane.  How are you?  Very well?  That’s right! that’s right!”

“Then,” said Barbicane, without further preliminary, “you have decided to go?”

“Quite decided.”

“Nothing will stop you?”

“Nothing.  Have you altered your projectile as I told you in my message?”

“I waited till you came.  But,” asked Barbicane, insisting once more, “you have quite reflected?”

“Reflected! have I any time to lose?  I find the occasion to go for a trip to the moon, I profit by it, and that is all.  It seems to me that does not want so much reflection.”

Barbicane looked eagerly at the man who spoke of his project of journey with so much carelessness, and with such absence of anxiety.

“But at least,” he said, “you have some plan, some means of execution?”

“Excellent means.  But allow me to tell you one thing.  I like to say my say once and for all, and to everybody, and to hear no more about it.  Then, unless you can think of something better, call together your friends, your colleagues, all the town, all Florida, all America if you like, and to-morrow I shall be ready to state my means of execution, and answer any objections, whatever they may be.  Will that do?”

“Yes, that will do,” answered Barbicane.

Whereupon the president left the cabin, and told the crowd about Michel Ardan’s proposition.  His words were received with great demonstrations of joy.  That cut short all difficulties.  The next day every one could contemplate the European hero at their ease.  Still some of the most obstinate spectators would not leave the deck of the Atlanta; they passed the night on board.  Amongst others, J.T.  Maston had screwed his steel hook into the combing of the poop, and it would have taken the capstan to get it out again.

“He is a hero! a hero!” cried he in every tone, “and we are only old women compared to that European!”

As to the president, after having requested the spectators to withdraw, he re-entered the passenger’s cabin, and did not leave it till the bell of the steamer rang out the midnight quarter.

But then the two rivals in popularity shook each other warmly by the hand, and separated friends.

CHAPTER XIX.

A MEETING.

The next day the sun did not rise early enough to satisfy public impatience.  Barbicane, fearing that indiscreet questions would be put to Michel Ardan, would like to have reduced his auditors to a small number of adepts, to his colleagues for instance.  But it was as easy as to dam up the Falls at Niagara.  He was, therefore, obliged to renounce his project, and let his friend run all the risks of a public lecture.  The new Town Hall of Tampa Town, notwithstanding its colossal dimensions, was considered insufficient for the occasion, which had assumed the proportions of a public meeting.