He breathed. J. T. Maston, caught by his metal hook, was holding on by one of the rings which bound the telescope together, uttering fearful cries. Belfast called. Help was brought, tackle was let down, and they hoisted up, not without some trouble, the imprudent secretary of the Gun Club. He reappeared at the upper orifice without hurt. “Ah!” said he, “if I had broken the mirror?” “You would have paid for it,” replied Belfast severely. “And that cursed projectile has fallen?” asked J. T. Maston. “Into the Pacific!” “Let us go!” A quarter of an hour after the two savants were descending the declivity of the Rocky Mountains; and two days after, at the same time as their friends of the Gun Club, they arrived at San Francisco, having killed five horses on the road. Elphinstone, the brothers Blomsberry, and Bilsby rushed toward them on their arrival. “What shall we do?” they exclaimed. “Fish up the projectile,” replied J. T. Maston, “and the sooner the better.” CHAPTER XXII. RECOVERED FROM THE SEA The spot where the projectile sank under the waves was exactly known; but the machinery to grasp it and bring it to the surface of the ocean was still wanting. It must first be invented, then made. American engineers could not be troubled with such trifles. The grappling-irons once fixed, by their help they were sure to raise it in spite of its weight, which was lessened by the density of the liquid in which it was plunged. But fishing-up the projectile was not the only thing to be thought of. They must act promptly in the interest of the travelers. No one doubted that they were still living. “Yes,” repeated J. T. Maston incessantly, whose confidence gained over everybody, “our friends are clever people, and they cannot have fallen like simpletons. They are alive, quite alive; but we must make haste if we wish to find them so. Food and water do not trouble me; they have enough for a long while. But air, air, that is what they will soon want; so quick, quick!”