Now starting with some such wild notion as this, certain scientists have looked on the Moon as an ancient comet brought close enough to the Earth to be retained in its orbit by terrestrial attraction." "Why may not there be something plausible in such a hypothesis ?" asked Ardan with some curiosity.
"There is nothing whatever in it," replied Barbican decidedly: "a simple proof is the fact that the Moon does not retain the slightest trace of the vaporous envelope by which comets are always surrounded." "Lost her tail you mean," said Ardan.

"Pooh! Easy to account for that! It might have got cut off by coming too close to the Sun!" "It might, friend Michael, but an amputation by such means is not very likely." "No?
Why not ?" "Because--because--By Jove, I can't say, because I don't know," cried Barbican with a quiet smile on his countenance.
"Oh what a lot of volumes," cried Ardan, "could be made out of what we don't know!" "At present, for instance," observed M'Nicholl, "I don't know what o'clock it is." "Three o'clock!" said Barbican, glancing at his chronometer.
"No!" cried Ardan in surprise.

"Bless us! How rapidly the time passes when we are engaged in scientific conversation! Ouf! I'm getting decidedly too learned! I feel as if I had swallowed a library!" "I feel," observed M'Nicholl, "as if I had been listening to a lecture on Astronomy in the _Star_ course." "Better stir around a little more," said the Frenchman; "fatigue of body is the best antidote to such severe mental labor as ours.

I'll run up the ladder a bit." So saying, he paid another visit to the upper portion of the Projectile and remained there awhile whistling _Malbrouk_, whilst his companions amused themselves in looking through the floor window.
Ardan was coming down the ladder, when his whistling was cut short by a sudden exclamation of surprise.
"What's the matter ?" asked Barbican quickly, as he looked up and saw the Frenchman pointing to something outside the Projectile.
Approaching the window, Barbican saw with much surprise a sort of flattened bag floating in space and only a few yards off.

It seemed perfectly motionless, and, consequently, the travellers knew that it must be animated by the same ascensional movement as themselves.
"What on earth can such a consarn be, Barbican ?" asked Ardan, who every now and then liked to ventilate his stock of American slang.