And be related what had happened the day before. He amused the engineer by recounting the history of their solitary match, and their fruitless efforts to procure fire like the savages. “We will think about it,” answered the engineer, “and if we cannot find something like tinder—” “Well,” asked the sailor. “Well, we will make matches!” “Friction matches?” “Friction matches!” “It’s no more difficult than that,” cried the reporter, slapping the sailor on the shoulder. The latter did not see that it would be easy, but he said nothing, and all went out of doors. The day was beautiful. A bright sun was rising above the sea horizon, its rays sparkling and glistening on the granite wall. After having cast a quick look about him, the engineer seated himself upon a rock. Herbert offered him some handfuls of mussels and seaweed, saying:— “It is all that we have, Mr. Smith.” “Thank you, my boy,” answered he, “it is enough—for this morning, at least.” And he ate with appetite this scanty meal, washing it down with water brought from the river in a large shell. His companions looked on without speaking. Then, after having satisfied himself, he crossed his arms and said:— “Then, my friends, you do not yet know whether we have been thrown upon an island or a continent?” “No sir,” answered Herbert. “We will find out to-morrow,” said the engineer. “Until then there is nothing to do.” “There is one thing,” suggested Pencroff. “What is that?” “Some fire,” replied the sailor, who thought of nothing else. “We will have it, Pencroff,” said Smith. “But when you were carrying me here yesterday, did not I see a mountain rising in the west?” “Yes,” saidSpilett, “quite a high one.” “All right,” exclaimed the engineer. “Tomorrow we will climb to its summit and determine whether this is an island or a continent; until then I repeat there is nothing to do.” “But there is; we want fire!” cried the obstinate sailor again. “Have a little patience, Pencroff, and we will have the fire,” said Spilett. The other looked at the reporter as much as to say, “If there was only you to make it we would never taste roast meat.” But he kept silent. Smith had not spoken. He seemed little concerned about this question of fire. For some moments he remained absorbed in his own thoughts. Then he spoke as follows:— “My friends, our situation is, doubtless, deplorable, nevertheless it is very simple. Either we are upon a continent, and, in that case, at the expense of greater or less fatigue, we will reach some inhabited place, or else we are on an island. In the latter case, it is one of two things; if the island is inhabited, we will get out of our difficulty by the help of the inhabitants; if it is deserted, we will get out of it by ourselves.” “Nothing could be plainer than that,” said Pencroff. “But,” asked Spilett, “whether it is a continent or an island, whereabouts do you think this storm has thrown us, Cyrus?”