the capitals of the globe—and also the less important towns, and even the humbler villages—were, as a rule, waiting for the result in a paroxysm of terror. the newspapers took care that the exact moment corresponding to midnight at kilimanjaro should be thoroughly well known.

the sun travels a degree in four minutes, and the times given by the newspapers for some of the cities was as follows:—

berlin 11.20 a.m.

constantinople 11.26 a.m.

london 9.30 a.m.

madrid 9.15 a.m.

paris 9.40 a.m.

st. petersburg 11.31 a.m.

rome 10.20 a.m.

calcutta 3. 4 p.m.

nanking 5. 5 p.m.

at baltimore, as we are aware, twelve hours after the passage of the sun on the meridian of kilimanjaro, it would be 5.24 p.m.

we need not enlarge on the agony of these moments. the most powerful pen of modern times would be helpless to describe them.

that the inhabitants of baltimore ran no danger of being swept away by the rising sea may be very true! that they would not see chesapeake bay empty itself, and cape hatteras at the end become a mountain crest above the dried atlantic, is agreed! but the city, like many others not menaced with emersion or immersion, might be shattered by the shock, its monuments thrown down, and its streets engulphed in the abysses that might open in the ground! and was there not a justification for fearing for those other parts of the world which would never survive the displacement of the waters?

why, certainly!

and so every human being in that city felt a cold shiver in the spinal marrow during that fatal minute. yes! all trembled with terror—but one! and that one was sulphuric alcide, who was quietly sipping a cup of hot coffee as if he and the old world would last for ever.

5.24 p.m., answering to kilimanjaro midnight, passed.

at baltimore—nothing occurred!

131at london, berlin, paris, rome, constantinople—nothing! not the least shock!

professor milne, in the coal-pit at kagoshima, in japan, gazed steadily at the tromometer, and saw not the least abnormal movement in the crust of the earth in that part of the world.

at baltimore there was no sign of any disturbance whatsoever. the sky was cloudy, and when the night came it was impossible to see if the apparent movement of the stars had changed—which would, of course, have indicated a change in the earth’s axis.

what a night did j. t. maston pass in his retreat, unknown to all save mrs. scorbitt! he raged! he raved! he could not keep still. would that he had been a few days older, to see if the curve of the sun was modified—an indisputable proof of the success of the operation. on the 23rd the change would not be noticeable, for on that day the sun invariably rises due east in every country of the globe.

in the morning the sun rose just as usual.

major donellan and his friends were on the terrace of their hotel. they had furnished themselves with instruments of extreme precision, which would show if the sun described its curve in the plane of the equator.

there was nothing to show that it did; and a few minutes after it had risen the radiant disc inclined towards the southern hemisphere.

there was no change in its apparent path.

the major and his colleagues expressed their delight by giving three cheers for the sun.

the sky was superb, the horizon quite clear from the mists of the night, and never did the glorious orb present himself under greater conditions of splendour before a wondering people.

“and in the very place noted by the laws of astronomy!” said baldenak.

“of our old astronomy,” said karkof, “which these madmen attempted to annihilate!”

“to their cost and shame,” said jansen.

“and the arctic regions will remain under their eternal ice!” said professor harald.

“hurrah for the sun!” shouted donellan. “he is good enough for us as he is!”

“hurrah! hurrah!” said the others on the balcony.

then it was that todrin, who had said nothing, remarked judiciously, “perhaps they have not fired!”

“not fired?” ejaculated the major aghast.

and that, with a different intonation, was what j. t. maston and mrs. scorbitt said.

“not fired?”

and that was what the wise and the foolish were asking; and it was what alcide pierdeux said, adding,—

“whether they fired or no, it does not matter! the earth will still spin on its old axis!”

no one knew what had passed at kilimanjaro; but before the end of the day an answer was given to the question that puzzled humanity.

there was a telegram from zanzibar:—

“to john s. wright, washington, u.s.a.

“zanzibar, 23rd september, 7.27 a.m., local time. discharge took place at midnight from cannon on southern side of kilimanjaro. projectile travelled with fearful shriek. awful explosion. province devastated by a tornado. sea risen in the mozambique channel. many ships damaged and driven on shore. towns and villages annihilated. all well, as usual.—richard w. trust, u.s. consul.”

yes. all well as usual! nothing changed in the state of affairs except the disasters among the wamasai caused by the artificial tornado and the wrecks caused by the risen sea.

and had it not been the same when the famous columbiad had sent its projectile towards the moon? the shock communicated to the soil of florida had only been experienced for a hundred miles round. but this time the effect ought to have been a hundred times as great.

under any circumstances the telegram informed the world of two matters of interest:—

1. the enormous cannon had been made in the flank of kilimanjaro.

2. it had been fired at the time stated.

and then the world gave a shout of satisfaction, which was followed by an immense shout of laughter.

barbicane & co.’s attempt had failed piteously! j. t. maston’s calculations might as well be put in the waste-paper basket! the north polar practical association had nothing now to do but go into another kind of liquidation!

could it be possible that the secretary of the gun club had made a mistake?

“i would rather believe i am deceived in the affection with which he inspires me,” said mrs. evangelina scorbitt.

and if there was a discomfited being on the face of the planet it was j. t. maston. when he saw that nothing had changed in the conditions of the earth’s movement, he was buoyed up with hope that some accident had retarded the work of barbicane and nicholl.

but since the zanzibar telegram he had to admit that the experiment had failed.

failed? and the equations, the formulæ from which he had deduced the success of the enterprise! was the gun not long enough, the projectile not heavy enough, the explosive not strong enough? no! it was inadmissible!

j. t. maston was in such a state of excitement that he declared he would leave his retreat. mrs. scorbitt tried in vain to prevent him. not that she feared for his life, for the danger was over. but the pleasantries that would be showered on the unhappy calculator, the jokes that would rain on his work,—she would have spared him.

and, still more serious, what was the reception the gun club would give him? would they retain him as their secretary after a failure that covered them with ridicule? was not he, the author of the calculations, entirely responsible for the collapse?

he would listen to nothing. he would yield neither to the tears nor prayers of mrs. scorbitt. he came out of the house in which he was hidden. he appeared in the streets of baltimore. he was recognized, and those whom he had menaced in their fortune and existence, whose anxiety he had prolonged by his obstinate silence, took vengeance on him by deriding him in every way.

the street boys shouted after him,—

“go along, old pole-shifter!”

“hallo, old clock-jobber!”

“how’s the figuring tinker?”

and a mob gathered and began to hustle him, and he had 135to seek refuge in the new park mansion, where mrs. scorbitt did her best to console him. it was in vain.

j. t. maston—after the example of niobe—would not be consoled. his gun had produced no more effect on the terrestrial spheroid than an ordinary petard.

a fortnight went by, and the world had already forgotten the north polar practical association.

a fortnight, and no news of barbicane or captain nicholl! had they perished in the counter-shock of the explosion, victims to the ravages produced among the wamasai? had they paid with their lives for the biggest mystification of modern times?

no.

at the explosion barbicane and nicholl had been thrown down; so had the sultan, and several thousand natives; but they had all got up again safe and sound.

“is it a success?” asked bali-bali rubbing his shoulders.

“can you doubt it?”

“i—doubt it! but when shall we know?”

“in a day or two!” said barbicane.

did he see that the attempt had failed?

possibly. but he never would have admitted it to the monarch of the wamasai.

two days afterwards barbicane and nicholl took their leave of bali-bali, not without paying a good round sum for the destruction done to the surface of his kingdom. and as the money went to his own private pocket, and his subjects got not a dollar, he had no cause to regret so lucrative an affair.

then the two friends, followed by their foremen, reached 136zanzibar, where they found a vessel starting for suez. there, under assumed names, they took passage to marseilles, whence by the p.l.m. and the ouest they reached havre, where they went on board the bourgogne and crossed the atlantic.

in twenty-two days after they left the wamasai they were in new york.

on the 15th of october, at three o’clock in the afternoon, they knocked at the door of the mansion in new park.

a minute afterwards they were in the presence of mrs. scorbitt and j. t. maston.