These words inspired such confidence that Michel Ardan with his superb assurance would have carried the whole Gun Club with him.  What he said seemed simple, elementary, and sure of success, and it would have been sordid attachment to this earth to hesitate to follow the three travellers upon their lunar expedition.

When the different objects were placed in the projectile the water was introduced between the partitions and the gas for lighting purposes laid in.  Barbicane took enough chlorate of potash and caustic potash for two months, as he feared unforeseen delay.  An extremely ingenious machine working automatically put the elements for good air in motion.  The projectile, therefore, was ready, and the only thing left to do was to lower it into the gun, an operation full of perils and difficulty.

The enormous projectile was taken to the summit of Stony Hill.  There enormous cranes seized it and held it suspended over the metal well.

This was an anxious moment.  If the chains were to break under the enormous weight the fall of such a mass would inevitably ignite the gun-cotton.

Happily nothing of the sort happened, and a few hours afterwards the projectile-compartment rested on its pyroxyle bed, a veritable fulminating pillow.  The only effect of its pressure was to ram the charge of the gun more strongly.

“I have lost,” said the captain, handing the sum of 3,000 dollars to President Barbicane.

Barbicane did not wish to receive this money from his travelling companion, but he was obliged to give way to Nicholl, who wished to fulfil all his engagements before leaving the earth.

“Then,” said Michel Ardan, “there is but one thing I wish for you now, captain.”

“What is that?” asked Nicholl.

“It is that you may lose your other two wagers.  By that means we shall be sure not to be stopped on the road.”

CHAPTER XXVI.

FIRE!

The 1st of December came, the fatal day, for if the projectile did not start that very evening at 10h. 46m. and 40s. p.m., more than eighteen years would elapse before the moon would present the same simultaneous conditions of zenith and perigee.

The weather was magnificent; notwithstanding the approach of winter the sun shone brightly and bathed in its radiance that earth which three of its inhabitants were about to leave for a new world.

How many people slept badly during the night that preceded the ardently-longed-for day!  How many breasts were oppressed with the heavy burden of waiting!  All hearts beat with anxiety except only the heart of Michel Ardan.  This impassible person went and came in his usual business-like way, but nothing in him denoted any unusual preoccupation.  His sleep had been peaceful—­it was the sleep of Turenne upon a gun-carriage the night before the battle.

From early dawn an innumerable crowd covered the prairie, which extended as far as the eye could reach round Stony Hill.  Every quarter of an hour the railroad of Tampa brought fresh sightseers.  According to the Tampa Town Observer, five millions of spectators were that day upon Floridian soil.