do you know that I have not
stolen, murdered--that I am not a wretch--an accursed being--only fit to
live like a wild beast, far from all--speak--do you know it?"

The colonists listened without interrupting the miserable creature, from
whom these broken confessions escaped, as it were, in spite of himself.
Harding wishing to calm him, approached him, but he hastily drew back.

"No! no!" he exclaimed; "one word only--am I free?"

"You are free," answered the engineer.

"Farewell, then!" he cried, and fled like a madman.

Neb, Pencroft, and Herbert ran also towards the edge of the wood--but
they returned alone.

"We must let him alone!" said Cyrus Harding.

"He will never come back!" exclaimed Pencroft.

"He will come back," replied the engineer.

Many days passed; but Harding--was it a sort of
presentiment?--presentiment in the fixed idea that sooner or later the
unhappy man would return.

"It is the last revolt of his wild nature," said he, "which remorse has
touched, and which renewed solitude will terrify."

In the meanwhile, works of all sorts were continued, as well on Prospect
Heights as at the corral, where Harding intended to build a farm. It is
unnecessary to say that the seeds collected by Herbert on Tabor
Island had been carefully sown. The plateau thus formed one immense
kitchen-garden, well laid out and carefully tended, so that the arms of
the settlers were never in want of work. There was always something to
be done. As the esculents increased in number, it became necessary to
enlarge the simple beds, which threatened to grow into regular fields
and replace the meadows. But grass abounded in other parts of the
island, and there was no fear of the onagers being obliged to go on
short allowance. It was well worth while, besides, to turn Prospect
Heights into a kitchen-garden, defended by its deep belt of creeks, and
to remove them to the meadows, which had no need of protection against
the depredations of quadrumana and quadrapeds.

On the 15th of November, the third harvest was gathered in. How
wonderfully had the field increased in extent, since eighteen months
ago, when the first grain of wheat was sown! The second crop of six
hundred thousand grains produced this time four thousand bushels, or
five hundred millions of grains!

The colony was rich in corn, for ten bushels alone were sufficient for
sowing every year to produce an ample crop for the food both of men and
beasts. The harvest