“Mr. Smith,” replied Ayrton, “I can give no advice. Whatever you do will be right, and whenever you want my help in your search, I am ready.” “Thanks, Ayrton,” said Smith, “but I want a more direct answer. You are our comrade, who has offered his life more than once to save ours, and we will take no important step without consulting you.” “I think, Mr. Smith,” replied Ayrton, “that we ought to do everything to discover our unknown benefactor. He may be sick or suffering. I owe him a debt of gratitude which I can never forget, for he brought you to save me. I will never forget him!” “It is settled,” said Smith. “We will begin our search as soon as possible. We will leave no part of the island unexplored. We will pry into its most secret recesses, and may our unknown friend pardon our zeal!” For several days the colonists were actively at work haymaking and harvesting. Before starting upon their exploring tour, they wanted to finish all their important labors. Now, too, was the time for gathering the vegetable products of Tabor Island. Everything had to be stored; and, happily, there was plenty of room in Granite House for all the riches of the island. There all was ranged in order, safe from man or beast. No dampness was to be feared in the midst of this solid mass of granite. Many of the natural excavations in the upper corridor were enlarged by the pick, or blown out by mining, and Granite House thus became a receptacle for all the goods of the colony. The brig’s guns were pretty pieces of cast-steel, which, at Pencroff’s instance, were hoisted, by means of tackle and cranes, to the very entrance of Granite House; embrasures were constructed between the windows, and soon they could be seen stretching their shining nozzles through the granite wall. From this height these fire-breathing gentry had the range of all Union Bay. It was a little Gibraltar, to whose fire every ship off the islet would inevitably be exposed. “Mr. Smith,” said Pencroff one day—it was the 8th of November—“now that we have mounted our guns, we ought to try their range.” “For what purpose?” “Well, we ought to know how far we can send a ball.” “Try, then, Pencroff,” answered the engineer; “but don’t use our powder, whose stock I do not want to diminish; use pyroxyline, whose supply will never fail.” “Can these cannon support the explosive force of pyroxyline?” asked the reporter, who was as eager as Pencroff to try their new artillery. “I think so. Besides,” added the engineer, “we will be careful.” Smith had good reason to think that these cannon were well made. They were of cast steel, and breech-loaders, they could evidently bear a heavy charge, and consequently would have a long range, on account of the tremendous initial velocity.