"I have been drawing," said the gentleman, solemnly, "an outline of what I see upon that luminous body floating there in space," and he pointed a trembling finger at the strange planet.
"Impossible!" cried Mark.
"I do not think I am losing my mind," said the professor, testily. "It remains, however, that the outline of certain bodies of water and of land upon that luminous globe seem to be the exact counterpart of land-bodies and water-bodies on the Earth."
"But what does it mean?" questioned Jack.
"If I knew that," grumbled the professor, returning to his instrument,
"I should feel better satisfied."
That some strange—some really wonderful—change had taken place in their physical surroundings, too, there could be no doubt. But what it was the boys could not imagine. Of one thing they were sure, however: The law of gravitation had been partly overcome. And a second fact was discernible: There was a surprising rarity to the air they breathed, and had been since the fall of volcanic ashes had ceased.
In lifting the heavier tools they handled it was noticeable that they seemed lighter. And Andy Sudds surprised them all, when it became necessary to roll a log out of the way of the flying machine, by seizing the heavy timber and lifting it with the ease with which one might lift a small sapling.
"We've all become strong men—professional strong men," gasped Jack.
"Wash is the champion jumper and Andy beats old Samson, I declare!
What do you make of it, Mark?"
"If the professor cannot explain it, don't expect me to do so," returned his chum.
"It am de seriousest question dat has ebber come befo' us," declared Washington, looking wondrous wise. "Disher jumpin' has always been in ma fambly, howebber. We had some great jumpers down Souf befo' de War."