By this time four other men had made their appearance from the upper part of the rock. “What do you want?” asked one of them, whom Servadac remembered to have seen before at Gibraltar. “Can I speak to your commanding officer?” Servadac inquired. “Which?” said the man. “The officer in command of Ceuta?” “Yes, if there is one.” “I will acquaint him with your arrival,” answered the Englishman, and disappeared. In a few minutes the commanding officer, attired in full uniform, was seen descending to the shore. It was Major Oliphant himself. Servadac could no longer entertain a doubt that the Englishmen had forestalled him in the occupation of Ceuta. Provisions and fuel had evidently been conveyed thither in the boat from Gibraltar before the sea had frozen, and a solid casemate, hollowed in the rock, had afforded Major Oliphant and his contingent ample protection from the rigor of the winter. The ascending smoke that rose above the rock was sufficient evidence that good fires were still kept up; the soldiers appeared to have thriven well on what, no doubt, had been a generous diet, and the major himself, although he would scarcely have been willing to allow it, was slightly stouter than before. Being only about twelve miles distant from Gibraltar, the little garrison at Ceuta had felt itself by no means isolated in its position; but by frequent excursions across the frozen strait, and by the constant use of the telegraph, had kept up their communication with their fellow-countrymen on the other island. Colonel Murphy and the major had not even been forced to forego the pleasures of the chessboard. The game that had been interrupted by Captain Servadac’s former visit was not yet concluded; but, like the two American clubs that played their celebrated game in 1846 between Washington and Baltimore, the two gallant officers made use of the semaphore to communicate their well-digested moves. The major stood waiting for his visitor to speak. “Major Oliphant, I believe?” said Servadac, with a courteous bow. “Yes, sir, Major Oliphant, officer in command of the garrison at Ceuta,” was the Englishman’s reply. “And to whom,” he added, “may I have the honor of speaking?” “To Captain Servadac, the governor general of Gallia.” “Indeed!” said the major, with a supercilious look. “Allow me to express my surprise,” resumed the captain, “at seeing you installed as commanding officer upon what I have always understood to be Spanish soil. May I demand your claim to your position?” “My claim is that of first occupant.” “But do you not think that the party of Spaniards now resident with me may at some future time assert a prior right to the proprietorship?” “I think not, Captain Servadac.” “But why not?” persisted the captain. “Because these very Spaniards have, by formal contract, made over Ceuta, in its integrity, to the British government.” Servadac uttered an exclamation of surprise.