n space where the
projectile was to meet her. According to his own observations, Barbicane
thought that he should accost her in her northern hemisphere, where vast
plains extend and mountains are rare--a favourable circumstance if the
lunar atmosphere was, according to received opinion, stored up in deep
places only.

"Besides," observed Michel Ardan, "a plain is more suitable for landing
upon than a mountain. A Selenite landed in Europe on the summit of Mont
Blanc, or in Asia on a peak of the Himalayas, would not be precisely at
his destination!"

"What is more," added Nicholl, "on a plain the projectile will remain
motionless after it has touched the ground, whilst it would roll down a
hill like an avalanche, and as we are not squirrels we should not come
out safe and sound. Therefore all is for the best."

In fact, the success of the audacious enterprise no longer appeared
doubtful. Still one reflection occupied Barbicane; but not wishing to
make his two companions uneasy, he kept silence upon it.

The direction of the projectile towards the northern hemisphere proved
that its trajectory had been slightly modified. The aim, mathematically
calculated, ought to have sent the bullet into the very centre of the
lunar disc. If it did not arrive there it would be because it had
deviated. What had caused it? Barbicane could not imagine nor determine
the importance of this deviation, for there was no datum to go upon. He
hoped, however, that the only result would be to take them towards the
upper edge of the moon, a more suitable region for landing.

Barbicane, therefore, without saying anything to his friends, contented
himself with frequently observing the moon, trying to see if the
direction of the projectile would not change. For the situation would
have been so terrible had the bullet, missing its aim, been dragged
beyond the lunar disc and fallen into interplanetary space.

At that moment the moon, instead of appearing flat like a disc, already
showed her convexity. If the sun's rays had reached her obliquely the
shadow then thrown would have made the high mountains stand out. They
could have seen the gaping craters and the capricious furrows that cut
up the immense plains. But all relief was levelled in the intense
brilliancy. Those large spots that give the appearance of a human face
to the moon were scarcely distinguishable.

"It may be a face," said Michel Ardan, "but I am sorry for the amiable
sister of Ap