The succeeding days were the saddest which the colonists had passed on the island. Herbert became more and more feeble. He was in a sort of stupor, and symptoms of delirium began to manifest themselves. Cooling draughts were all the remedies at the disposition of the colonists. Meantime, the fever became intermittent, and it was necessary to check, it before it developed greater strength. “To do this,” said Spilett, “we must have a febrifuge.” “And we have neither cinchonia nor quinine,” answered the engineer. “No, but we can make a substitute from the bark of the willow trees at the lake.” “Let us try it immediately,” replied Smith. Indeed, willow bark has been partly considered succedaneous to cinchonia, but since they had no means of extracting the salicin, the bark must be used in its natural state. Smith, therefore, cut some pieces of bark from a species of black willow, and, reducing them to powder, this powder was given to Herbert the same evening. The night passed without incident. Herbert was somewhat delirious, but the fever did not manifest itself. Pencroff became more hopeful, but Spilett, who knew that the fever was intermittent, looked forward to the next day with anxiety. They noticed that during the apyrexy, Herbert seemed completely prostrated, his head heavy, and subject to dizziness. Another alarming symptom was a congestion of the liver, and soon a more marked delirium manifested itself. Spilett was overwhelmed by this new complication. He drew the engineer aside and said to him:—— “It is a pernicious fever!” “A pernicious fever!” cried Smith. “You must be mistaken, Spilett. A pernicious fever never declares itself spontaneously; it must have a germ.” “I am not mistaken,” replied the reporter. “Herbert may have caught the germ in the marshes. He has already had one attack; if another follows, and we cannot prevent a third—he is lost!” “But the willow bark?——” “Is insufficient. And a third attack of pernicious fever, when one cannot break it by means of quinine, is always mortal!” Happily Pencroff had not heard this conversation. It would have driven him wild. Towards noon of the 7th, the second attack manifested itself. The crisis was terrible. Herbert felt that he was lost! He stretched out his arms towards Smith, towards Spilett, towards Pencroff! He did not want to die! The scene was heartrending, and it became necessary to take Pencroff away. The attack lasted five hours. It was plain that the lad could not support a third. The night was full of torture. In his delirium, Herbert wrestled with the convicts; he called Ayrton; he supplicated that mysterious being, that protector, who had disappeared but whose image haunted him—then he fell into a profound prostration, and Spilett, more than once, thought the poor boy was dead!