But the antifriction gun had already been trained on the giant spinning-top.
“Fire!” ordered the captain. The twin barrels emitted a tongue of flame a mile long.
There was no bang, of course, because an antifriction gun, as everyone knows, bombards its target with proteins.
The flaming missiles streaked towards the Teetotum but were caught and deflected.
They circled the huge figure a few times, travelling ever faster, ever higher, until they disappeared into the black clouds overhead.
“It's no use,” Captain Gordon shouted. “We'll simply have to get closer.” “We can't, sir,” Jim Ironside shouted back.
“The engines are already running full ahead, and that's only just enough to keep us from being blown astern.”
“Any suggestions, Professor?” the captain asked, but Professor Eisenstein merely shrugged.
His assistants were equally devoid of ideas. It looked as if the expedition would have to be abandoned as a failure.
Just then, someone tugged at the professor's sleeve.
It was Momosan, the beautiful native girl. “Malumba,” she said, gesturing gracefully.
“Malumba oisitu sono. Erweini samba insaltu lolobindra. Kramuna heu beni beni sadogau.”
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