arm.

To rush on this monster, throw him on the ground in his turn, snatch
Herbert from him, then bind him securely, was the work of a minute for
Pencroft and Gideon Spilett. The sailor was of Herculean strength, the
reporter also very powerful, and in spite of the monster's resistance he
was firmly tied so that he could not even move.

"You are not hurt, Herbert?" asked Spilett.

"No, no!"

"Oh, if this ape had wounded him!" exclaimed Pencroft.

"But he is not an ape," answered Herbert.

At these words Pencroft and Gideon Spilett looked at the singular being
who lay on the ground. Indeed it was not an ape; it was a human being,
a man. But what a man! A savage in all the horrible acceptation of the
word, and so much the more frightful that he seemed fallen to the lowest
degree of brutishness!

Shaggy hair, untrimmed beard descending to the chest, the body almost
naked except a rag round the waist, wild eyes, enormous hands with
immensely long nails, skin the color of mahogany, feet as hard as if
made of horn, such was the miserable creature who yet had a claim to be
called a man. But it might justly be asked if there were yet a soul in
this body, or if the brute instinct alone survived in it!

"Are you quite sure that this is a man, or that he has ever been one?"
said Pencroft to the reporter.

"Alas! there is no doubt about it," replied Spilett.

"Then this must be the castaway?" asked Herbert.

"Yes," replied Gideon Spilett, "but the unfortunate man has no longer
anything human about him!"

The reporter spoke the truth. It was evident that if the castaway had
ever been a civilized being, solitude had made him a savage, or worse,
perhaps a regular man of the woods. Hoarse sounds issued from his throat
between his teeth, which were sharp as the teeth of a wild beast made to
tear raw flesh.

Memory must have deserted him long before, and for a long time also he
had forgotten how to use his gun and tools, and he no longer knew how to
make a fire! It could be seen that he was active and powerful, but the
physical qualities had been developed in him to the injury of the moral
qualities. Gideon Spilett spoke to him. He did not appear to understand
or even to hear. And yet on looking into his eyes, the reporter thought
he could see that all reason was not extinguished in him. However, the
prisoner did not struggle, nor even attempt to break his bonds. Was he
overwhelmed by the presence of men whose fellow he h