The decompression of the atmosphere made the specific gravity of their
bodies extraordinarily light, and they ran like hares and leaped
like chamois. Leaving the devious windings of the footpath, they went
as a crow would fly across the country. Hedges, trees, and streams
were cleared at a bound, and under these conditions Ben Zoof felt
that he could have overstepped Montmartre at a single stride.
The earth seemed as elastic as the springboard of an acrobat;
they scarcely touched it with their feet, and their only fear was
lest the height to which they were propelled would consume the time
which they were saving by their short cut across the fields.

It was not long before their wild career brought them to the right bank
of the Shelif. Here they were compelled to stop, for not only had
the bridge completely disappeared, but the river itself no longer existed.
Of the left bank there was not the slightest trace, and the right bank,
which on the previous evening had bounded the yellow stream, as it murmured
peacefully along the fertile plain, had now become the shore of a tumultuous
ocean, its azure waters extending westwards far as the eye could reach,
and annihilating the tract of country which had hitherto formed the district
of Mostaganem. The shore coincided exactly with what had been the right
bank of the Shelif, and in a slightly curved line ran north and south,
whilst the adjacent groves and meadows all retained their previous positions.
But the river-bank had become the shore of an unknown sea.

Eager to throw some light upon the mystery, Servadac hurriedly made
his way through the oleander bushes that overhung the shore, took up
some water in the hollow of his hand, and carried it to his lips.
"Salt as brine!" he exclaimed, as soon as he had tasted it.
"The sea has undoubtedly swallowed up all the western part of Algeria."