“No,” answered Smith. “Oysters contain very little azote, and it would be necessary for a man living on them alone to eat at least fifteen or sixteen dozen every day.” “Well,” said Pencroff, “we could swallow dozens and dozens of these and not exhaust the bed. Shall we have some for breakfast?” And, without waiting for an answer, which he well knew would be affirmative, the sailor and Neb detached a quantity of these mollusks from the rocks, and placed them with the other provisions for breakfast, in a basket which Neb had made from the hibiscus fibres. Then they continued along the shore between the downs and the sea. From time to time Smith looked at his watch, so as to be ready for the noon observation. All this portion of the island, as far as South Mandible Cape, was desert, composed of nothing but sand and shells, mixed with the debris of lava. A few sea birds, such as the sea-gulls and albatross, frequented the shore, and some wild ducks excited the covetousness of Pencroff. He tried to shoot some, but unsuccessfully, as they seldom lit, and he could not hit them flying. This made the sailor say to the engineer:— “You see, Mr. Smith, how much we need guns!” “Doubtless, Pencroff,” answered the reporter, “but it rests with you. You find iron for the barrels, steel for the locks, saltpetre, charcoal and sulphur for the powder, mercury and nitric acid for the fulminate, and last of all, lead for the balls, and Mr. Smith will make us guns of the best quality. “Oh, we could probably find all these substances on the island,” said the engineer. “But it requires fine tools to make such a delicate instrument as a firearm. However, we will see after awhile.” “Why, why did we throw the arms and everything else, even our penknives, out of the balloon?” cried Pencroff. “If we hadn’t, the balloon would have thrown us into the sea,” answered Herbert. “So it would, my boy,” answered the sailor; and then another idea occurring to him:— “I wonder what Mr. Forster and his friend thought,” he said, “the next day, when they found they balloon had escaped?” “I don’t care what they thought,” said the reporter. “It was my plan,” cried Pencroff, with a satisfied air. “And a good plan it was, Pencroff,” interrupted the reporter, laughing, “to drop us here!” “I had rather be here than in the hands of the Southerners!” exclaimed the sailor, “especially since Mr. Smith has been kind enough to rejoin us!” “And I, too,” cried the reporter. “After all, what do we lack here? Nothing.” “That means—everything,” answered the sailor, laughing and shrugging his shoulders. “But some day we will get away from this place.”