CHAPTER XIV.
A NIGHT OF FIFTEEN DAYS.
The Projectile being not quite 30 miles from the Moon's north pole when the startling phenomenon, recorded in our last chapter, took place, a few seconds were quite sufficient to launch it at once from the brightest day into the unknown realms of night.

The transition was so abrupt, so unexpected, without the slightest shading off, from dazzling effulgence to Cimmerian gloom, that the Moon seemed to have been suddenly extinguished like a lamp when the gas is turned off.
"Where's the Moon ?" cried Ardan in amazement.
"It appears as if she had been wiped out of creation!" cried M'Nicholl.
Barbican said nothing, but observed carefully.

Not a particle, however, could he see of the disc that had glittered so resplendently before his eyes a few moments ago.

Not a shadow, not a gleam, not the slightest vestige could he trace of its existence.

The darkness being profound, the dazzling splendor of the stars only gave a deeper blackness to the pitchy sky.