“No,” said Barbicane, “let us stretch ourselves on our sides; we shall resist the shock better that way. Remember that, when the projectile starts, it matters little whether we are in it or before it; it amounts to much the same thing.” “If it is only ‘much the same thing,’ I may cheer up,” said Michel Ardan. “Do you approve of my idea, Nicholl?” asked Barbicane. “Entirely,” replied the captain. “We’ve still thirteen minutes and a half.” “That Nicholl is not a man,” exclaimed Michel; “he is a chronometer with seconds, an escape, and eight holes.” But his companions were not listening; they were taking up their last positions with the most perfect coolness. They were like two methodical travelers in a car, seeking to place themselves as comfortably as possible. We might well ask ourselves of what materials are the hearts of these Americans made, to whom the approach of the most frightful danger added no pulsation. Three thick and solidly-made couches had been placed in the projectile. Nicholl and Barbicane placed them in the center of the disc forming the floor. There the three travelers were to stretch themselves some moments before their departure. During this time, Ardan, not being able to keep still, turned in his narrow prison like a wild beast in a cage, chatting with his friends, speaking to the dogs Diana and Satellite, to whom, as may be seen, he had given significant names. “Ah, Diana! Ah, Satellite!” he exclaimed, teasing them; “so you are going to show the moon-dogs the good habits of the dogs of the earth! That will do honor to the canine race! If ever we do come down again, I will bring a cross type of ‘moon-dogs,’ which will make a stir!” “If there _are_ dogs in the moon,” said Barbicane. “There are,” said Michel Ardan, “just as there are horses, cows, donkeys, and chickens. I bet that we shall find chickens.” “A hundred dollars we shall find none!” said Nicholl. “Done, my captain!” replied Ardan, clasping Nicholl’s hand. “But, by the bye, you have already lost three bets with our president, as the necessary funds for the enterprise have been found, as the operation of casting has been successful, and lastly, as the Columbiad has been loaded without accident, six thousand dollars.” “Yes,” replied Nicholl. “Thirty-seven minutes six seconds past ten.” “It is understood, captain. Well, before another quarter of an hour you will have to count nine thousand dollars to the president; four thousand because the Columbiad will not burst, and five thousand because the projectile will rise more than six miles in the air.” “I have the dollars,” replied Nicholl, slapping the pocket of this coat. “I only ask to be allowed to pay.” “Come, Nicholl. I see that you are a man of method, which I could never be; but indeed you have made a series of bets of very little advantage to yourself, allow me to tell you.” “And why?” asked Nicholl.