Chapter 21 Chapter XXI How the French Solve Difficulties

While the chairman and the captain were negotiating the terms of the duel (a dreadful and savage duel in which both sides became hunters), Michel Ardan was resting on his bed, recovering from the fatigue of the victory parade .Obviously, the word "rest" is not used properly here, because the hardness of American beds can be compared with artificial stone or granite table tops. Michel Ardan was lying in the middle of the sheets, tossing and turning, unable to sleep well. He dreamed of putting a more comfortable couch in the cannonballs, when he was suddenly awakened from his dream by a loud noise. .The sound of knocking and knocking on the door shook the door, as if someone was knocking on the door with an iron object. , In this premature commotion mingled with terrible cries.

"Open the door!" someone yelled. "Hey! For God's sake, open the door!" Adam could have ignored such a clamorous request.But he climbed out of bed and opened the door, which was about to collapse under the impact of the stubborn visitor.The secretary of the Cannon Club burst into the room.Even if a bomb had been thrown in, it could not have been louder or more rude. "Last night," cried Maston, as he entered, "our Chairman was publicly insulted at the General Assembly! He once challenged his enemy to none other than Captain Nicholl! They wanted this morning There is a duel in the Woods of Skisnow! Barbicane himself told me! If he is killed, our plans will be in vain! So we must prevent this duel! But, in the world There is only one person who can influence Barbicane and dissuade him, and that person is Michel Ardan!)

Maston was talking like this, Michel Ardan didn't interrupt him, he hurriedly put on his baggy trousers, and within two minutes of working, the pair of friends broke up. One leg, ran to the outskirts of Dhampa. On the way, Maston recounted the situation before and after.He told Adam the real reason for the quarrel between Barbicane and Nicholl, and he told him how their hatred had been going on for so long, and how the chairman and the captain had never met together because of the secret help of friends on both sides: In fact, he added, it was just a competition between steel plates and cannonballs.Finally, referring to the scene at the meeting, he said that Nicholl was looking for such an opportunity to vent his old hatred.

There is nothing more terrible than this strange duel in America: during the duel, two enemies search each other in the bushes, hide behind the bushes and shoot each other like two wild animals. At this time, both sides are very envious of the Indians on the prairie , envious of their natural ability, their wit, ingenuity, their sensitivity to clues and their keen sense of smell to track the enemy.One mistake, one hesitation, one wrong step in the way, and death is the result.In such battles the Americans, often with their dogs, pursued the enemy for hours. "What devils are you!" exclaimed Michel Ardan, after his companion had vividly described the duel to him.

"We have always been like this," Maston replied modestly, "but let's go quickly." At this time, although Michel Ardan and the others ran on the dewy plains, crossed rice fields and streams, and took shortcuts, they still failed to reach the Skisnow Woods within five and a half hours.Barbicane had probably been in there for half an hour. At the edge of the wood an old woodcutter was chopping down a tree he had felled.Maston ran over and asked loudly: "Did you see a man walking into the woods with a rifle? . . . No, it's Barbicane, our chairman . . . my best friend . . . "

The noble secretary of the Cannon Club naively thought that the whole world knew his chairman.But the woodcutter didn't seem to understand what he said. "A hunter," so Adam said. "A hunter? Yes, I saw it," replied the Woodman. "Have you been in for a long time?" "Almost an hour." "Too late!" cried Maston. "Did you hear the gunfire?" asked Michel Ardan. "No." "Not a sound?" "Not a sound. Looks like that hunter is out of luck!" "How?" Maston asked. "Risking a bullet we shouldn't be eating by going into the woods.

"Ah!" exclaimed Maston, in a tone that could not have been misinterpreted, "I would rather have ten bullets in my head than one in Barbicane's." "Go on, then!" said Adam, shaking his companion's hand. Seconds later, the two friends disappeared into the bushes.It was an airless jungle of tall cypresses, "Sycomore" trees, lily trees. Olive trees, tamarinds, oaks, and magnolias, all tangled together so that you can see only a few paces away.Michel Ardan and Maston walked one after the other, wading quietly through the tall grass, cutting a path among the strong green vines, and they looked at the undergrowth or the dense shade of the bushes with inquiring self-light. branches, advancing with the feeling that at every step the horrific gunshot might be heard.As for the traces that Barbicane might have left in the wood, they did not recognize them at all.They groped their way along the almost unrecognizable trails where only the Indians could track the enemy step by step.

After searching fruitlessly for an hour, the two companions stopped. ．I was very uneasy. "I see no hope," said Maston despondently. "Barbicane: A man does not play tricks, even with his enemies; set traps, scheming!He is too straightforward, too bold. He goes forward bravely and walks straight to the danger.Yes, it must be because the woodcutter was too far away for the gunfire to reach him! " "But what about us?" asked Michel Ardan, "we must have heard it when we entered the tree! . . . " "Perhaps we are late!" cried Maston in a tone of despair.

Michel Ardan could find nothing to answer; Maston and he walked on again.They called out at intervals, now Barbicane, now Nicholl; but neither answered them. Awoken by their cries, the birds flew up happily and disappeared among the branches. Several frightened deer fled into the bushes in a panic. After searching for another hour, most of the woods were searched by them. No trace of the two fighters was found.The woodcutter's words are really doubtful. Adam was about to give up this futile reconnaissance, but Meston stopped suddenly. "Shh!" he said, "there's someone there!"

"Someone?" asked Michel Ardan. "Yes! There's a man! He doesn't seem to be moving. He doesn't have a rifle in his hand. What's he doing?" "Do you know him?" asked Michel Ardan, whose short-sighted eyes were of no use in this case. "Yes. He's turning around," Maston replied. "who is it?" "Captain Nicholl!" "Nichole!" Michel Ardan blurted out, feeling a sudden constriction in his heart. . Nicholl laid down his arms: so he no longer had to be afraid of his enemies? to him! said Michel Ardan, "and see what it is." But his companion and he had not gone fifty paces before stopping to look more closely at the captain. They had thought they had found A vampire, a man thirsting for vengeance. They were stunned when they saw him.

There was a net stretched between two tall lily trees, and in the center of the net was a little bird, whose wings were entangled in the net, struggling and making pitiful cries. It was not a bird catcher who stretched this terrible bird's net, but a poisonous spider endemic to the region, the size of a pigeon's egg, with very long legs.Just as the hideous animal was about to spring upon its prey, it suddenly turned back, and took refuge in the high boughs of the lily-tree, for it was now threatened in its turn by another formidable foe. It turned out that Captain Nicholl, oblivious to T's immediate danger, had put his rifle on the ground, and was attentively engrossed in freeing the victim, which had fallen in the dreaded spider's web.When he was done, he let go of the little bird. The little bird flapped its wings and flew away without a trace in a blink of an eye. Nicholl looked at the little bird flying away among the branches kindly, and suddenly heard a moving voice saying: "You, you are such a kind person!" He turned around.Michel Ardan stood before him and repeated excitedly: "You are truly admirable!" "Michel Ardan!" cried the captain. "Sir, what are you doing here?" "To hold hands with you, Nicholl, to prevent you from killing Barbicane or Barbicane from killing you." "Barbicane!" cried the captain, "I have searched for two hours and have not found him! Where did he hide? ..." "Nichor," said Michel Ardan, "it would be impolite to say so! We ought to respect our enemies. Be assured, if Barbicane had lived, we would have found him, had he not been with you. Just as happy for the moment, go to rescue the little bird in distress, we will find him like we found you, he must be looking for you too. But when we have found him, I, Michel Ardan, tell you the truth, you will never have to fight again. " "President Barbicane and I," replied Nicholl solemnly, "we are at odds..." "Forget it! Forget it!" Michel Ardan went on, "like you Honest men hate each other, no, respect each other. Stop dueling." "Sir, a duel is necessary!" "No." "Captain," said Maston now earnestly, "I am the chairman's friend, his alter ego. If you must kill a man, shoot me, it's all the same. ""Sir," said Nicholl, clutching his rifle in one convulsive hand, "what a joke!" "Mister Maston never jokes," replied Michel Ardan, "I understand He wants to die for the man he loves! But neither he nor Barbicane will fall under Captain Nicholl's bullets, for I have a very tempting proposition, and they will be busy Accept it." "What offer?" asked Nicholl, obviously a little incredulous. "Please take it easy," replied Adam, "I can only say it in the presence of Barbicane." "Go to him then," cried the captain. The three were on their way at once; the captain unloaded, slung his rifle over his shoulder, and hurried off after him without a word. Another half hour passed, and their search was still fruitless.Maston felt himself seized by a sense of foreboding.He looked sternly at Nicholl. Did the captain have his revenge? Poor Barbicane was shot and lay dead in a pool of blood deep in the bushes?Michel Ardan seemed to think the same way, and the two of them were already looking at Captain Nicholl with questioning eyes. At this moment, Maston suddenly stopped in his tracks. It turned out that there was a man leaning on a tall tree, who appeared at a distance of twenty paces from them. Only his motionless upper half could be seen, while the lower half was hidden in the tall grass. "It's him!" said Maston. Barbicane did not move.Adam stared into the captain's eyes for a moment, but the one was unmoved.Ah Dang took a few steps forward and shouted: "Barbicane. Barbicane l" did not answer.Adam ran towards his friend, but just as he was about to take his friend's arm, he stopped suddenly with a cry of surprise. Barbicane, with a pencil, was writing formulas and drawing geometric figures in a little notebook, while his rifle lay unloaded on the ground. The scientist, absorbed in his work, also forgot about dueling and revenge; he saw nothing, heard nothing. But when Michel Ardan's hand was on his, he raised his head and regarded him with wonder. "Ah!" cried he at last, "it is you: I have found it, my friend, I have found it!" "what?" "My method." "what way?" "A way to eliminate the recoil of a projectile during firing!" "Really?" said Michele, looking at the captain out of the corner of his eye. "Really! Water! Ordinary water for a spring... Ah! Meston!" cried Barbicane, "and you are here!" "Yes, he is here too," replied Michel Ardan, "and at the same time allow me to introduce you to the noble Captain Nicholl!" "Nichor!" cried Barbicane, rising abruptly. "I'm sorry, Captain," he said, "I forgot just now... I'm ready now..." Michel Ardan, not allowing the two enemies a moment to talk, broke in at once, saying: "Ah! It's a good thing you two good men didn't meet sooner, or we'd be weeping now for either the one or the other. But, thank God for interfering, there's no need now Don't be afraid anymore. When a person is immersed in studying mechanics, or joking with spiders, he can forget his hatred, which shows that this hatred is not dangerous to anyone." Then Michel Ardan told the chairman the captain's story. "Excuse me," he asked at the end, "did Heaven send you good men to smash each other's heads with their rifles?" The situation was so ridiculous and so unexpected that neither Barbicane nor Nicholl knew what attitude to take toward each other.Michelle Adam felt it too, and he decided to egg them on to a reconciliation. "Fair friends," said he, with the most charming smile on his lips, "there is only a little misunderstanding between you and nothing else, to prove that there is nothing among you—since you are going to risk your lives Take your chances, and I beg you to take my advice for granted." "Go ahead," said Nicholl. "Father Barbicane believes his cannon balls will go all the way to the moon." "Yes, that's right," replied the chairman. "And Brother Nicholl believes it will fall to the earth." "I can assure you," said the captain loudly. "Very well!" continued Michel Ardan. "I don't intend to bring you to an agreement: but I will simply say to you: Please set off with me and see if we stop halfway." "Hey," Maston snorted in surprise. Hearing this unexpected suggestion, the two enemies raised their eyes, you looked at me, and I looked at you.Everyone is watching each other's expressions carefully.Barbicane waited for the captain's answer, but Nicholl wanted the chairman to speak first. "How is it?" said Michelle in the most charming voice. "Since there is no need to be afraid of the recoil of the shells!" "Accept!" cried Barbicane. But, no matter how fast he spoke, Nicholl finished the sentence at the same time as him. "Good! That's great!" Michel cheered, holding out a hand to each of them. "It's all settled now, my friends, allow me to treat you in the French way. Let's go to breakfast." Bar!"