The conversation passed from this subject to another, and never languished an instant.  It seemed to the three friends that under these conditions ideas came into their heads like leaves in the first warm days of spring.

Amidst the questions and answers that crossed each other during this morning, Nicholl asked one that did not get an immediate solution.

“I say,” said he, “it is all very well to go to the moon, but how shall we get back again?”

“What do you mean by that, Nicholl?” asked Barbicane gravely.

“It seems to me very inopportune to ask about getting away from a country before you get to it,” added Michel.

“I don’t ask that question because I want to draw back, but I repeat my question, and ask, ‘How shall we get back?’”

“I have not the least idea,” answered Barbicane.

“And as for me,” said Michel, “if I had known how to come back I should not have gone.”

“That is what you call answering,” cried Nicholl.

“I approve of Michel’s words, and add that the question has no actual interest.  We will think about that later on, when we want to return.  Though the Columbiad will not be there, the projectile will.”

“Much good that will be, a bullet without a gun!”

“A gun can be made, and so can powder!  Neither metal, saltpetre, nor coal can be wanting in the bowels of the moon.  Besides, in order to return you have only the lunar attraction to conquer, and you will only have 8,000 leagues to go so as to fall on the terrestrial globe by the simple laws of weight.”

“That is enough,” said Michel, getting animated.  “Let us hear no more about returning.  As to communicating with our ancient colleagues upon earth, that will not be difficult.”

“How are we to do that, pray?”

“By means of meteors hurled by the lunar volcanoes.”

“A good idea, Michel,” answered Barbicane.  “Laplace has calculated that a force five times superior to that of our cannons would suffice to send a meteor from the moon to the earth.  Now there is no volcano that has not a superior force of propulsion.”

“Hurrah!” cried Michel.  “Meteors will be convenient postmen and will not cost anything!  And how we shall laugh at the postal service!  But now I think—­”

“What do you think?”

“A superb idea!  Why did we not fasten a telegraph wire to our bullet?  We could have exchanged telegrams with the earth!”

“And the weight of a wire 86,000 leagues long,” answered Nicholl, “does that go for nothing?”

“Yes, for nothing!  We should have trebled the charge of the Columbiad!  We could have made it four times—­five times—­greater!” cried Michel, whose voice became more and more violent.

“There is a slight objection to make to your project,” answered Barbicane.  “It is that during the movement of rotation of the globe our wire would have been rolled round it like a chain round a windlass, and it would inevitably have dragged us down to the earth again.”