"Life with one's skull broken is hardly an enviable possession.

Our grand acclimatization project is knocked sky high, in more senses than one!" There was no doubt of the poor dog's death.

The expression of Ardan's countenance, as he looked at his friends, was of a very rueful order.
"Well," said the practical Barbican, "there's no help for that now; the next thing to be done is to get rid of the body.

We can't keep it here with us forty-eight hours longer." "Of course not," replied the Captain, "nor need we; our lights, being provided with hinges, can be lifted back.

What is to prevent us from opening one of them, and flinging the body out through it!" The President of the Gun Club reflected a few minutes; then he spoke: "Yes, it can be done; but we must take the most careful precautions." "Why so ?" asked Ardan.
"For two simple reasons;" replied Barbican; "the first refers to the air enclosed in the Projectile, and of which we must be very careful to lose only the least possible quantity." "But as we manufacture air ourselves!" objected Ardan.
"We manufacture air only partly, friend Michael," replied Barbican.