Indeed, it was to be feared that some serious accident had occurred in the corral. No doubt, Ayrton might have sent a telegram which had not arrived, but this was not the reason why his companions were so uneasy, for, a more unaccountable circumstance, Ayrton, who had promised to return the evening before, had not reappeared. In short, it was not without a motive that all communication had been stopped between the corral and Granite House, and who but the convicts could have any interest in interrupting this communication? The settlers hastened on, their hearts oppressed with anxiety. They were sincerely attached to their new companion. Were they to find him struck down by the hands of those of whom he was formerly the leader? Soon they arrived at the place where the road led along the side of a little stream which flowed from the Red Creek and watered the meadows of the corral. They then moderated their pace so that they should not be out of breath at the moment when a struggle might be necessary. Their guns were in their hands ready cocked. The forest was watched on every side. Top uttered sullen groans which were rather ominous. At last the palisade appeared through the trees. No trace of any damage could be seen. The gate was shut as usual. Deep silence reigned in the corral. Neither the accustomed bleating of the sheep nor Ayrton's voice could be heard. "Let us enter," said Cyrus Harding. And the engineer advanced, whilst his companions, keeping watch about twenty paces behind him, were ready to fire at a moment's notice. Harding raised the inner latch of the gate and was about to push it back, when Top barked loudly. A report sounded and was responded to by a cry of pain. Herbert, struck by a bullet, lay stretched on the ground. CHAPTER SEVEN. THE REPORTER AND PENCROFT IN THE CORRAL--HERBERT'S WOUND--THE SAILOR'S DESPAIR--CONSULTATION BETWEEN THE REPORTER AND THE ENGINEER--MODE OF TREATMENT--HOPE NOT ABANDONED--HOW IS NEB TO BE WARNED--A SURE AND FAITHFUL MESSENGER--NEB'S REPLY. At Herbert's cry Pencroft, letting his gun fall, rushed towards him. "They have killed him!" he cried. "My boy! They have killed him!" Cyrus Harding and Gideon Spilett ran to Herbert. The reporter listened to ascertain if the poor lad's heart was still beating. "He lives," said he; "but he must be carried--" "To Granite House? that is impossible!" replied the engineer. "Into the corral, then!" said Pencroft. "In a moment," said Harding. And he ran round the left corner of the palisade. There he found a convict who, aiming at him, sent a ball through his hat. In a few seconds, before he had even time to fire his second barrel, he fell, struck to the heart by Harding's dagger, more sure even than his gun.