“Zanzibar, 13th September, 5 a.m., local time. Great foundries have been established among the Wamasai to the south of Kilimanjaro. For eight months Impey Barbicane and Nicholl have been there, with hundreds of black workmen under the authority of the Sultan Bali-Bali. Information for Government purposes.—Richard W. Trust, U.S. Consul.” And that is how the great secret was discovered. And that is why the secretary of the Gun Club was not hanged. But who can say that he did not live to regret that he was not removed from mankind in all the plenitude of his glory? Anyhow the fact of the discovery is so important in our history that we shall only be treating it with due respect in giving it this chapter to itself. CHAPTER XV. INTERESTING FOR THE INHABITANTS OF THE TERRESTRIAL SPHEROID. And so the Washington Government knew where Barbicane & Co. had commenced business. There could be no doubt as to the authenticity of the telegram. The Consul of Zanzibar was too cautious a man for his information to be doubted, and it was confirmed by subsequent telegrams. The gigantic works of the North Polar Practical Association were in full swing in the centre of the Kilimanjaro region, about three hundred miles from the East Coast of Africa, a little below the equinoctial line. How had they come to be installed so secretly in this lost country, at the foot of the famous mountain discovered in 1848 by Krapf and Rebmann? How had Barbicane & Co. been able to build their foundries and collect their staff? By what means had they managed to enter into peaceful relations with the savage tribes of the district, and their cruel and grasping chiefs? Nobody knew. And as there were only a few days to run before the 22nd, it was not unlikely that nobody would know. When J. T. Maston learnt from Evangelina that the mystery of Kilimanjaro had been cleared up by a telegram from Zanzibar,— “Pshaw!” he said, making a wonderful zigzag in the air with his iron hook. “They do not travel yet by telegraph or telephone; and in six days—patarapatanboomboom—all will be ready!” And any one who heard the secretary of the Gun Club deliver the sonorous onomatope, like a roar from a Columbiad, would have wondered at the amount of vital energy remaining in the old artilleryman. But there was no doubt that he was right. There was no time to send messengers to the Wamasai to arrest Impey Barbicane. Even if the messengers started from Egypt, or Aden, or Massowah, or Zanzibar, however quickly they might travel, they would have to contend with the difficulties of the country, with the obstacles unavoidable on a road through a mountainous region, and probably with followers acting under the orders of a sultan as despotic as he was black. All hope would have to be given up of stopping the operation or arresting the operator.