midnight
There it lay below them , a round black spot , hiding the sweet faces of the stars , but otherwise no more distinguishable by the travellers than if they were lying in the depths of the Mammoth Cave of Kentucky . And just think . Only fifteen days before , that dark face had been splendidly illuminated by the solar beams , every crater lustrous , every peak sparkling , every streak glistening under the vertical ray . In fifteen days later , a day light the most brilliant would have replaced a midnight the most Cimmerian . But in fifteen days later , where would the Projectile be ? In what direction would it have been drawn by the forces innumerable of attractions incalculable ? To such a question as this , even Ardan would reply only by an ominous shake of the head .