ep and could not hear them.

"My friends," said the reporter, after they had talked of Neb and of the
impossibility of communicating with him, "I think, like you, that to
venture on the road to the corral would be to risk receiving a gun-shot
without being able to return it. But do you not think that the best
thing to be done now is to openly give chase to these wretches?"

"That is just what I was thinking," answered Pencroft. "I believe we're
not fellows to be afraid of a bullet, and as for me, if Captain Harding
approves, I'm ready to dash into the forest! Why, hang it, one man is
equal to another!"

"But is he equal to five?" asked the engineer.

"I will join Pencroft," said the reporter, "and both of us, well-armed
and accompanied by Top--"

"My dear Spilett, and you, Pencroft," answered Harding, "let us reason
coolly. If the convicts were hid in one spot of the island, if we knew
that spot, and had only to dislodge them, I would undertake a direct
attack; but is there not occasion to fear, on the contrary, that they
are sure to fire the first shot."

"Well, captain," cried Pencroft, "a bullet does not always reach its
mark."

"That which struck Herbert did not miss, Pencroft," replied the
engineer. "Besides, observe that if both of you left the corral I
should remain here alone to defend it. Do you imagine that the convicts
will not see you leave it, that they will not allow you to enter the
forest, and that they will not attack it during your absence, knowing
that there is no one here but a wounded boy and a man?"

"You are right, captain," replied Pencroft, his chest swelling with
sullen anger. "You are right; they will do all they can to retake the
corral, which they know to be well stored; and alone you could not hold
it against them."

"Oh, if we were only at Granite House!"

"If we were at Granite House," answered the engineer, "the case would be
very different. There I should not be afraid to leave Herbert with one,
whilst the other three went to search the forests of the island. But we
are at the corral, and it is best to stay here until we can leave it
together."

Cyrus Harding's reasoning was unanswerable, and his companions
understood it well.

"If only Ayrton was still one of us!" said Gideon Spilett. "Poor
fellow! his return to social life will have been but of short duration."

"If he is dead," added Pencroft, in a peculiar tone.

"Do you hope, then, Pencroft, that the vil