They moved about backwards and forwards on their fleet horses, brandishing long lances or firing their guns with a dull report.

However, they confined themselves to these hostile demonstrations, which had no effect on Barbicane and his companions.
They were then in the middle of a rocky plain, a vast open space of several acres in extent which the sun covered with burning rays.

It was formed by a wide elevation of the soil, and seemed to offer to the members of the Gun Club all the required conditions for the construction of their Columbiad.
"Halt!" cried Barbicane, stopping.

"Has this place any name ?" "It is called Stony Hill," answered the Floridians.
Barbicane, without saying a word, dismounted, took his instruments, and began to fix his position with extreme precision.

The little troop drawn up around him watched him in profound silence.
At that moment the sun passed the meridian.