"Follow it!" said Cyrus Harding.

And the settlers immediately pressed forward, guided by the wire.

The thunder continued to roar with such violence that not a word could
be heard. However, there was no occasion for speaking, but to get
forward as fast as possible.

Cyrus Harding and his companions then climbed the spur rising between
the corral valley and that of Falls River, which they crossed at its
narrowest part. The wire, sometimes stretched over the lower branches
of the trees, sometimes lying on the ground, guided them surely. The
engineer had supposed that the wire would perhaps stop at the bottom of
the valley, and that the stranger's retreat would be there.

Nothing of the sort. They were obliged to ascend the south-western
spur, and re-descend on that arid plateau terminated by the
strangely-wild basalt cliff. From time to time one of the colonists
stooped down and felt for the wire with his hands; but there was now no
doubt that the wire was running directly towards the sea. There, to a
certainty, in the depths of those rocks, was the dwelling so long sought
for in vain.

The sky was literally on fire. Flash succeeded flash. Several struck
the summit of the volcano in the midst of the thick smoke. It appeared
there as if the mountain was vomiting flame. At a few minutes to eleven
the colonists arrived on the high cliff overlooking the ocean to the
west. The wind had risen. The surf roared 500 feet below.

Harding calculated that they had gone a mile and a half from the coral.

At this point the wire entered among the rocks, following the steep side
of a narrow ravine. The settlers followed it at the risk of occasioning
a fall of the slightly-balanced rocks, and being dashed into the sea.
The descent was extremely perilous, but they did not think of the
danger; they were no longer masters of themselves, and an irresistible
attraction drew them towards this mysterious place as the magnet draws
iron.

Thus they almost unconsciously descended this ravine, which even in
broad daylight would have been considered impracticable.

The stones rolled and sparkled like fiery balls when they crossed
through the gleams of light. Harding was first--Ayrton last. On they
went, step by step. Now they slid over the slippery rock; then they
struggled to their feet and scrambled on.

At last the wire touched the rocks on the beach. The colonists had
reached the bottom of the basalt cliff.

There a