Almost at the same moment that the Secretary of the Navy, the Vice-President of the Gun Club, and the Sub-Director of the Observatory received the telegram from San Francisco, the Honourable J.T.  Maston felt the most violent emotion of his whole existence—­an emotion not even equalled by that he had experienced when his celebrated cannon was blown up, and which, like it, nearly cost him his life.

It will be remembered that the Secretary of the Gun Club had started some minutes after the projectile—­and almost as quickly—­for the station of Long’s Peak in the Rocky Mountains.  The learned J. Belfast, Director of the Cambridge Observatory, accompanied him.  Arrived at the station the two friends had summarily installed themselves, and no longer left the summit of their enormous telescope.

We know that this gigantic instrument had been set up on the reflecting system, called “front view” by the English.  This arrangement only gave one reflection of objects, and consequently made the view much clearer.  The result was that J.T.  Maston and Belfast, whilst observing, were stationed in the upper part of the instrument instead of in the lower.  They reached it by a twisted staircase, a masterpiece of lightness, and below them lay the metal, well terminated by the metallic mirror, 280 feet deep.

Now it was upon the narrow platform placed round the telescope that the two savants passed their existence, cursing the daylight which hid the moon from their eyes, and the clouds which obstinately veiled her at night.

Who can depict their delight when, after waiting several days, during the night of December 5th they perceived the vehicle that was carrying their friends through space?  To that delight succeeded deep disappointment when, trusting to incomplete observations, they sent out with their first telegram to the world the erroneous affirmation that the projectile had become a satellite of the moon gravitating in an immutable orbit.

After that instant the bullet disappeared behind the invisible disc of the moon.  But when it ought to have reappeared on the invisible disc the impatience of J.T.  Maston and his no less impatient companion may be imagined.  At every minute of the night they thought they should see the projectile again, and they did not see it.  Hence between them arose endless discussions and violent disputes, Belfast affirming that the projectile was not visible, J.T.  Maston affirming that any one but a blind man could see it.

“It is the bullet!” repeated J.T.  Maston.

“No!” answered Belfast, “it is an avalanche falling from a lunar mountain!”

“Well, then, we shall see it to-morrow.”

“No, it will be seen no more.  It is carried away into space.”

“We shall see it, I tell you.”

“No, we shall not.”

And while these interjections were being showered like hail, the well-known irritability of the Secretary of the Gun Club constituted a permanent danger to the director, Belfast.