"Still we must remember," observed Barbican, "that even the sharpest eye cannot detect a man at a distance greater than four miles and a-half, and our glasses have not yet brought us nearer than five." "Which means to say," observed Ardan, "that though we can't see the Selenites, they can see our Projectile!" But matters had not improved much when, towards four o'clock in the morning, the travellers found themselves on the 50th parallel, and at a distance of only about 375 miles from the lunar surface. Still no trace of the least movement, or even of the lowest form of life. "What peaked mountain is that which we have just passed on our right?" asked Ardan. "It is quite remarkable, standing as it does in almost solitary grandeur in the barren plain." "That is _Pico_," answered Barbican. "It is at least 8000 feet high and is well known to terrestrial astronomers as well by its peculiar shadow as on account of its comparative isolation. See the collection of perfectly formed little craters nestling around its base." "Barbican," asked M'Nicholl suddenly, "what peak is that which lies almost directly south of _Pico_? I see it plainly, but I can't find it on my map." "I have remarked that pyramidal peak myself," replied Barbican; "but I can assure you that so far it has received no name as yet, although it is likely enough to have been distinguished by the terrestrial astronomers. It can't be less than 4000 feet in height." "I propose we called it _Barbican_!" cried Ardan enthusiastically. "Agreed!" answered M'Nicholl, "unless we can find a higher one." "We must be before-hand with Schmidt of Athens!" exclaimed Ardan. "He will leave nothing unnamed that his telescope can catch a glimpse of." "Passed unanimously!" cried M'Nicholl. "And officially recorded!" added the Frenchman, making the proper entry on his map. "_Salve, Mt. Barbican!_" then cried both gentlemen, rising and taking off their hats respectfully to the distant peak. "Look to the west!" interrupted Barbican, watching, as usual, while his companions were talking, and probably perfectly unconscious of what they were saying; "directly to the west! Now tell me what you see!" "I see a vast valley!" answered M'Nicholl. "Straight as an arrow!" added Ardan. "Running through lofty mountains!" cried M'Nicholl. "Cut through with a pair of saws and scooped out with a chisel!" cried Ardan. "See the shadows of those peaks!" cried M'Nicholl catching fire at the sight. "Black, long, and sharp as if cast by cathedral spires!" "Oh! ye crags and peaks!" burst forth Ardan; "how I should like to catch even a faint echo of the chorus you could chant, if a wild storm roared over your beetling summits! The pine forests of Norwegian mountains howling in midwinter would not be an accordeon in comparison!" "Wonderful instance of subsidence on a grand scale!" exclaimed the Captain, hastily relapsing into science.