sions would last
for a tolerable length of time. Ayrton's house had been provided with
all that was necessary for existence, and the convicts, scared by the
arrival of the settlers, had not had time to pillage it. It was
probable, as Gideon Spilett observed, that things had occurred as
follows:--The six convicts, disembarking on the island, had followed the
southern shore, and after having traversed the double shore of the
Serpentine Peninsula, not being inclined to venture into the Far West
woods, they had reached the mouth of Falls River. From this point, by
following the right bank of the watercourse, they would arrive at the
spurs of Mount Franklin, among which they would naturally seek a
retreat, and they could not have been long in discovering the corral,
then uninhabited. There they had regularly installed themselves,
awaiting the moment to put their abominable schemes into execution.
Ayrton's arrival had surprised them, but they had managed to overpower
the unfortunate man, and--the rest may be easily imagined!

Now, the convicts,--reduced to five, it is true, but well-armed,--were
roaming the woods, and to venture there was to expose themselves to
their attacks, which could be neither guarded against nor prevented.

"Wait! There is nothing else to be done!" repeated Cyrus Harding.
"When Herbert is cured, we can organise a general battue of the island,
and have satisfaction of these convicts. That will be the object of our
grand expedition at the same time--"

"As the search for our mysterious protector," added Gideon Spilett,
finishing the engineer's sentence. "Ah, it must be acknowledged, my
dear Cyrus, that this time his protection was wanting at the very moment
when it was most necessary to us!"

"Who knows?" replied the engineer.

"What do you mean?" asked the reporter.

"That we are not at the end of our trouble yet, my dear Spilett, and
that his powerful invention may, perhaps, have another opportunity of
exercising itself. But that is not the question now. Herbert's life
before everything."

This was the colonists' saddest thought. Several days passed, and the
poor boy's state was happily no worse. Cold water, always kept at a
suitable temperature, had completely prevented the inflammation of the
wounds. It even seemed to the reporter that this water, being slightly
sulphurous,--which was explained by the neighbourhood of the volcano,--
had a more direct action on the healing. The su