“And the Arctic regions will remain under their eternal ice!” said Professor Harald. “Hurrah for the Sun!” shouted Donellan. “He is good enough for us as he is!” “Hurrah! hurrah!” said the others on the balcony. Then it was that Todrin, who had said nothing, remarked judiciously, “Perhaps they have not fired!” “Not fired?” ejaculated the Major aghast. And that, with a different intonation, was what J. T. Maston and Mrs. Scorbitt said. “Not fired?” And that was what the wise and the foolish were asking; and it was what Alcide Pierdeux said, adding,— “Whether they fired or no, it does not matter! The Earth will still spin on its old axis!” No one knew what had passed at Kilimanjaro; but before the end of the day an answer was given to the question that puzzled humanity. There was a telegram from Zanzibar:— “To John S. Wright, Washington, U.S.A. “Zanzibar, 23rd September, 7.27 a.m., local time. Discharge took place at midnight from cannon on southern side of Kilimanjaro. Projectile travelled with fearful shriek. Awful explosion. Province devastated by a tornado. Sea risen in the Mozambique Channel. Many ships damaged and driven on shore. Towns and villages annihilated. All well, as usual.—Richard W. Trust, U.S. Consul.” Yes. All well as usual! Nothing changed in the state of affairs except the disasters among the Wamasai caused by the artificial tornado and the wrecks caused by the risen sea. And had it not been the same when the famous Columbiad had sent its projectile towards the Moon? The shock communicated to the soil of Florida had only been experienced for a hundred miles round. But this time the effect ought to have been a hundred times as great. Under any circumstances the telegram informed the world of two matters of interest:— 1. The enormous cannon had been made in the flank of Kilimanjaro. 2. It had been fired at the time stated. And then the world gave a shout of satisfaction, which was followed by an immense shout of laughter. Barbicane & Co.’s attempt had failed piteously! J. T. Maston’s calculations might as well be put in the waste-paper basket! The North Polar Practical Association had nothing now to do but go into another kind of liquidation! Could it be possible that the secretary of the Gun Club had made a mistake? “I would rather believe I am deceived in the affection with which he inspires me,” said Mrs. Evangelina Scorbitt. And if there was a discomfited being on the face of the planet it was J. T. Maston. When he saw that nothing had changed in the conditions of the Earth’s movement, he was buoyed up with hope that some accident had retarded the work of Barbicane and Nicholl. But since the Zanzibar telegram he had to admit that the experiment had failed. Failed? And the equations, the formulæ from which he had deduced the success of the enterprise! Was the gun not long enough, the projectile not heavy enough, the explosive not strong enough? No! It was inadmissible!