that I am nothing
better than a fool!"

"Well, they would make more than three millions, at a hundred and thirty
thousand a bushel, Pencroft."

"Three millions!" cried Pencroft.

"Three millions."

"In four years?"

"In four years," replied Cyrus Harding, "and even in two years, if, as I
hope, in this latitude we can obtain two crops a year."

At that, according to his usual custom, Pencroft could not reply
otherwise than by a tremendous hurrah.

"So, Herbert," added the engineer, "you have made a discovery of great
importance to us. Everything, my friends, everything can serve us in the
condition in which we are. Do not forget that, I beg of you."

"No, captain, no, we shan't forget it," replied Pencroft; "and if ever
I find one of those tobacco-seeds, which multiply by three hundred and
sixty thousand, I assure you I won't throw it away! And now, what must
we do?"

"We must plant this grain," replied Herbert.

"Yes," added Gideon Spilett, "and with every possible care, for it bears
in itself our future harvests."

"Provided it grows!" cried the sailor.

"It will grow," replied Cyrus Harding.

This was the 20th of June. The time was then propitious for sowing this
single precious grain of corn. It was first proposed to plant it in
a pot, but upon reflection it was decided to leave it to nature, and
confide it to the earth. This was done that very day, and it is needless
to add, that every precaution was taken that the experiment might
succeed.

The weather having cleared, the settlers climbed the height above
Granite House. There, on the plateau, they chose a spot, well sheltered
from the wind, and exposed to all the heat of the midday sun. The place
was cleared, carefully weeded, and searched for insects and worms;
then a bed of good earth, improved with a little lime, was made; it was
surrounded by a railing; and the grain was buried in the damp earth.

Did it not seem as if the settlers were laying the first stone of some
edifice? It recalled to Pencroft the day on which he lighted his only
match, and all the anxiety of the operation. But this time the thing
was more serious. In fact, the castaways would have been always able
to procure fire, in some mode or other, but no human power could supply
another grain of corn, if unfortunately this should be lost!

Chapter 21

From this time Pencroft did not let a single day pass without going to
visit what he gravely called his "corn-field." And