“I will go with Pencroff,’ answered the reporter, “and the two of us, well armed, and Top with us—” “My dear Spilett, and you, Pencroff, let us discuss the matter coolly. If the convicts were in hiding in some place known to us, from which we could drive them by an attack, it would be a different affair. But have we not every reason to fear that they will get the first shot?” “Well, sir,” cried Pencroff, “a bullet doesn’t always hit its mark!” “That which pierced Herbert did not go astray,” answered the engineer. “Besides, remember that if you both leave the corral, I shall be left alone to defend it. Can you answer that the convicts will not see you go off, that they will not wait till you are deep in the woods, and then make their attack in your absence upon a man and a sick boy?” There was nothing to say in answer to this reasoning, which went home to the minds of all. “If only Ayrton was yet one of the party!” said Spilett. “Poor fellow! his return to a life with his kind was not for long!” “If he is dead!” added Pencroff, in a peculiar tone. “Have you any hope that those rascals have spared him, Pencroff?” asked Spilett. “Yes, if their interest led them to do so.” “What! do you suppose that Ayrton, among his former companions in guilt, would forget all he owed to us—” “Nobody can tell,” answered the sailor, with some hesitation. “Pencroff,” said Smith, laying his hand on the sailor’s arm, “that was an unworthy thought. I will guarantee Ayrton’s fidelity!” “And I too,” added the reporter, decidedly. “Yes, yes, Mr. Smith, I am wrong,” answered Pencroff. “But really I am a little out of my mind. This imprisonment in the corral is driving me to distraction.” “Be patient, Pencroff,” answered the engineer. “How soon, my dear Spilett, do you suppose Herbert can be carried to Granite House?” “That is hard to say, Cyrus,” answered the reporter, “for a little imprudence might be fatal. But if he goes on as well as he is doing now for another week, why then we will see.” At that season the spring was two months advanced. The weather was good, and the heat began to be oppressive. The woods were in fall leaf, and it was almost time to reap the accustomed harvest. It can easily be understood how this siege in the corral upset the plans of the colonists. Once or twice the reporter risked himself outside, and walked around the palisade. Top was with him, and his carbine was loaded. He met no one and saw nothing suspicious. Top would have warned him of any danger, and so long as the dog did not bark, there was nothing to fear. But on his second sortie, on the 27th of November, Spilett, who had ventured into the woods for a quarter of a mile to the south of the mountain, noticed that Top smelt something. The dog’s motions were no longer careless; he ran to and fro, ferreting about in the grass and thistles, as if his keen nose had put him on the track of an enemy.