In spite of the fury and fracas of the tempest Herbert slept profoundly, and, at length, sleep took possession of Pencroff, whose sailor life had accustomed him to such demonstrations. Gideon Spilett, who was kept awake by anxiety, reproached himself for not having accompanied Neb. We have seen that he had not given up all hope, and the presentiments which had disturbed Herbert had affected him also. His thoughts were fixed upon Neb; why had not the negro returned? He tossed about on his sandy couch, unheeding the warfare of the elements. Then, overcome by fatigue, he would close his eyes for an instant, only to be awakened by some sudden thought. Meantime the night advanced; and it was about 2 o’clock when Pencroff was suddenly aroused from a deep sleep by finding himself vigorously shaken. “What’s the matter?” he cried, rousing and collecting himself with the quickness peculiar to sailors. The reporter was bending over him and saying:— “Listen, Pencroff, listen!” The sailor listened, but could hear no sounds other than those caused by the gusts. “It is the wind,” he said. “No,” answered Spilett, listening again, “I think I heard—” “What?” “The barking of a dog!” “A dog!” cried Pencroff, springing to his feet. “Yes—the barking—” “Impossible!” answered the sailor. “How, in the roarings of the tempest—” “Wait—listen,” said the reporter. Pencroff listened most attentively, and at length, during a lull, he thought he caught the sound of distant barking. “Is it?” asked the reporter, squeezing the sailor’s hand. “Yes—yes!” said Pencroff. “It is Top! It is Top!” cried Herbert, who had just wakened, and the three rushed to the entrance of the Chimneys. They had great difficulty in getting out, as the wind drove against them with fury, but at last they succeeded, and then they were obliged to steady themselves against the rocks. They were unable to speak, but they looked about them. The darkness was absolute. Sea, sky, and earth, were one intense blackness. It seemed as if there was not one particle of light diffused in the atmosphere. For some moments the reporter and his two companions stood in this place, beset by the gusts, drenched by the rain, blinded by the sand. Then again, in the hush of the storm, they heard, far away, the barking of a dog. This must be Top. But was he alone or accompanied? Probably alone, for if Neb had been with him, the negro would have hastened, at once, to the Chimneys. The sailor pressed the reporter’s hand in a manner signifying that he was to remain without, and then returning to the corridor, emerged a moment later with a lighted fagot, which he threw into the darkness, at the same time whistling shrilly. At this signal, which seemed to have been looked for, the answering barks came nearer, and soon a dog bounded into the corridor, followed by the three companions. An armful of wood was thrown upon the coals, brightly lighting up the passage. “It is Top!” cried Herbert.