his two companions each occupied a different point on the bank in order to cut off all retreat for the capybara while the dog searched as he swam on the surface of the pond.
Harbert was not mistaken. After a few minutes, the animal emerged from the waters. Top was after him in a bound and prevented him from plunging again. An instant later the capybara, dragged to the bank, was killed by a blow from Neb’s stick.
“Hurrah!” shouted Pencroff in triumph. “If we can only get a hot fire going, this rodent will be gnawed to the bone.”
Pencroff loaded the capybara on his shoulder and, judging by the height of the sun that it was about two o’clock, he gave the signal to return.
Top’s instinct was of great usefulness to the hunters. Thanks to the intelligent animal, they were able to find the road they had already traveled. A half hour later, they arrived at the bend in the river.
As he had done the first time, Pencroff quickly made a raft of wood—even though the lack of a fire made it seem like a useless task—and with the raft moving downstream, they returned to the Chimneys.
But the sailor had not gone fifty steps when he stopped, once again let out a formidable hurrah, and pointed toward the corner of the cliff.
“Harbert! Neb! Look!” he shouted.
Smoke was rising and swirling above the rocks!
CHAPTER X
Several moments later, the three hunters found themselves in front of a crackling hearth. Cyrus Smith and the reporter were there. Pencroff looked from one to the other without saying a word, his capybara in hand.
“Yes indeed, my good fellow,” shouted the reporter.
“Fire, real fire, that will perfectly roast this magnificent game which we’ll feast on within the hour.”
“But who kindled it? …” asked Pencroff.
“The sun!”
Gideon Spilett’s response was precise. It was the sun that had furnished this heat which amazed Pencroff. The sailor could not believe his eyes, and he was so speechless that he did not think of questioning the engineer.
“You had a lens, sir?” Harbert asked Cyrus Smith.
“No, my child,” he replied, “but I made one.”
And he showed him the apparatus that he had used as a magnifying glass. It was simply two glass crystals that he had removed from his watch and the reporter’s. After filling them with water and sealing their edges by means of a little clay, he had thus manufactured a real lens which, concentrating the sun’s rays on some very dry moss, produced combustion.
The sailor examined the apparatus, then he looked at the engineer without saying a word although his look spoke volumes. Yes, as far as he was concerned, if Cyrus Smith was not a god, he was assuredly more than a mere man. His speech finally returned, and he shouted:
“Note that, Mr. Spilett, note that in your book!”
“It’s noted,” replied the reporter.
Then, with Neb helping, the sailor arranged the spit, and the capybara, properly dressed, was soon roasting like a suckling pig over a bright and sparkling flame.
The Chimneys once more became habitable, not only because the corridors were warmed by the fire from the hearth but also because the partitions of stones and sand were once again put in place.
The engineer and his companion had employed their day well. Cyrus Smith had almost completely recovered his strength which he tested by climbing to the upper plateau. From this point, his eye, accustomed to evaluating heights and distances, had gazed for several minutes at the mountain whose summit he wanted to reach the next day. The mountain, situated about six miles to the northwest, appeared to him to measure 3500 feet above sea level. Consequently, an observer posted at the summit would be able to see the surrounding area with a radius of at least fifty miles. It was probable that Cyrus Smith would easily resolve this question of “continent or island” which he justifiably gave precedence over all others.
They ate in style. The cabybara meat was excellent, and the seaweed and pine kernel almonds completed the meal admirably. But the engineer spoke little. He was preoccupied with the next day’s projects.
Once or twice, Pencroff mentioned some ideas about things it would be convenient to make, but Cyrus Smith, who evidently had a methodical mind, only shook his head.
“Tomorrow,” he repeated, “we’ll know what we’re up against, and we’ll act accordingly.”
The meal finished, some additional armfuls of wood were thrown on the fire and the guests of the Chimneys, including the faithful Top, fell into a deep sleep. No incident disturbed this peaceful night, and the next day, March 29th, they woke up fresh and hearty, ready to undertake this excursion which would decide their fate.
All was ready for the departure. The remains of the capybara would provide nourishment for Cyrus Smith and his companions for the next twenty four hours. Besides, they hoped to find provisions along the way. Since the glass crystals were now back on the engineer’s and the reporter’s watches, Pencroff burnt a little linen to serve as tinder. As to flint, there would be no shortage of that on terrain that was of volcanic origin.
It was seven thirty in the morning when the explorers, armed with clubs, left the Chimneys. Following Pencroff’s advice, it seemed best to take the road already used through the forest and to use another route on the return trip. It was also the most direct way to reach the mountain. They turned the south corner and followed the left bank of the river which they then left at the point where it curved toward the southwest. The footpath, already frayed under the green trees, was found and, at nine o’clock, Cyrus Smith and his companions reached the western edge of the forest. The ground, which was not too hilly up to that point, marshy at first, dry and sandy later, gradually sloped upward as they went from the coast toward the interior. Several fleeing animals had been glimpsed in the forest. Top promptly began to chase them, but his master immediately called him back because the time had not come to pursue them. Later they would see. The engineer was not a man to let himself be distracted from his goal. He did not observe the country, neither its physical features nor its natural flora. His only objective was this mountain which he aspired to climb, and he made straight for it.
At ten o’clock, they halted for a few minutes. On leaving the forest, they could now see the orographical nature of the region.1 The mountain was composed of two cones. The first, truncated at a height of about 2500 feet, was supported by winding foothills which seemed to spread out like immense claws gripping the ground. Between these foothills were narrow valleys, bristling with trees, the latter rising in clusters up to truncated summit. However, the vegetation seemed less abundant on the side of the mountain exposed to the northeast, and they could see there deep stripes made by flowing lava.
A second cone rested on the first cone, slightly rounded at the top, standing a bit askew. It was like a large hat cocked over the ear. It seemed to be formed of bare terrain punctuated in many spots by reddish rocks.
They agreed to reach the summit of the second cone and the ridge of the foothills offered the best way to get there.
“We’re on volcanic terrain,” said Cyrus Smith. His companions, following him, began to climb little by little up the side of a foothill
