the motor. They looked at the oil and lubricating cups. Already the
main shaft was smoking with the heat of friction.

"Look! look!" whispered Mark hoarsely.

"One hundred and fifty-three miles a second!" exclaimed Jack. "You've
done it, Professor Roumann!"

"Yes, I have," spoke the German, with a sigh of satisfaction. "That is
faster than mortal man ever travelled before, and I think no one will
ever equal our speed. We have broken all records--even our own. Now I
will slow down, but we must do it gradually, so as not to strain the
machinery."

He slipped back the speed lever, notch by notch. The hand of the dial
began receding, but it still marked one hundred and twenty miles a
second.

Suddenly, above the roar and hum of the motor, there sounded the voice
of Andy.

"Professor!" he shouted. "We're heading right toward a big, black
stone! Is that the moon?"

"The moon? No, we are not half way there," said Mr. Henderson. "Are you
sure, Andy?"

"Sure? Yes! I saw it from the window in the pilot-house. We are
shooting right toward it."