"It am chicken," declared Washington. "I roasted some ob mah fowls, an' put 'em in de cold storage room. I was purty suah dere warn't any chickens on dat red planet where we're goin'."
"Probably not," answered Professor Henderson. "It was a good idea, Washington. Pass me some, please."
"Ain't Mr. Roumann comin' to dinnah?"
"Not now," answered the scientist. "He will stay in the pilot house until I relieve him."
"It seems mighty queer to be sitting down to a meal, and all the while we're shooting along at fifty miles a second," remarked Jack.
"Yes; it doesn't seem as if we were moving at all," agreed Mark.
Indeed, the dining–room of the Annihilator was a very comfortable place, though the space was rather contracted, due to the shape of the projectile and the necessity for carrying a great quantity of stores. The living–room served as the place for serving the meals, which were prepared in a sort of galley or kitchen off the engine–room.
"It's like eating in a dining–car on a railroad train," observed Andy Sudds, "only it is more steady. No curves, and nothing like that."
"Do you like it?" inquired Mr. Henderson.
"Well, it's nice, of course, and there isn't any better cook than Washington, but, to tell the honest truth, I've eaten with more satisfaction when I made a fire in the woods and boiled coffee and fried bacon. I'm sort of hampered for elbow room."