Besides, another phenomenon would mark the projectile’s stopping-point on the neutral line. At that spot the two attractions, lunar and terrestrial, would be annulled. Objects would “weigh” no more. This singular fact, which had surprised Barbicane and his companions so much in going, would be repeated on their return under the very same conditions. At this precise moment they must act. Already the projectile’s conical top was sensibly turned toward the lunar disc, presented in such a way as to utilize the whole of the recoil produced by the pressure of the rocket apparatus. The chances were in favor of the travelers. If its speed was utterly annulled on this dead point, a decided movement toward the moon would suffice, however slight, to determine its fall. “Five minutes to one,” said Nicholl. “All is ready,” replied Michel Ardan, directing a lighted match to the flame of the gas. “Wait!” said Barbicane, holding his chronometer in his hand. At that moment weight had no effect. The travelers felt in themselves the entire disappearance of it. They were very near the neutral point, if they did not touch it. “One o’clock,” said Barbicane. Michel Ardan applied the lighted match to a train in communication with the rockets. No detonation was heard in the inside, for there was no air. But, through the scuttles, Barbicane saw a prolonged smoke, the flames of which were immediately extinguished. The projectile sustained a certain shock, which was sensibly felt in the interior. The three friends looked and listened without speaking, and scarcely breathing. One might have heard the beating of their hearts amid this perfect silence. “Are we falling?” asked Michel Ardan, at length. “No,” said Nicholl, “since the bottom of the projectile is not turning to the lunar disc!” At this moment, Barbicane, quitting his scuttle, turned to his two companions. He was frightfully pale, his forehead wrinkled, and his lips contracted. “We are falling!” said he. “Ah!” cried Michel Ardan, “on to the moon?” “On to the earth!” “The devil!” exclaimed Michel Ardan, adding philosophically, “well, when we came into this projectile we were very doubtful as to the ease with which we should get out of it!” And now this fearful fall had begun. The speed retained had borne the projectile beyond the dead point. The explosion of the rockets could not divert its course. This speed in going had carried it over the neutral line, and in returning had done the same thing. The laws of physics condemned it _to pass through every point which it had already gone through_. It was a terrible fall, from a height of 160,000 miles, and no springs to break it. According to the laws of gunnery, the projectile must strike the earth with a speed equal to that with which it left the mouth of the Columbiad, a speed of 16,000 yards in the last second.