On the 30th of April, the two sportsmen were in the depth of the Far West, when the reporter, preceding Herbert a few paces, arrived in a sort of clearing, into which the trees more sparsely scattered had permitted a few rays to penetrate.  Gideon Spilett was at first surprised at the odor which exhaled from certain plants with straight stalks, round and branchy, bearing grape-like clusters of flowers and very small berries.  The reporter broke off one or two of these stalks and returned to the lad, to whom he said,—­

“What can this be, Herbert?”

“Well, Mr. Spilett,” said Herbert, “this is a treasure which will secure you Pencroft’s gratitude forever.”

“Is it tobacco?”

“Yes, and though it may not be of the first quality, it is none the less tobacco!”

“Oh, good old Pencroft!  Won’t he be pleased!  But we must not let him smoke it all, he must give us our share.”

“Ah! an idea occurs to me, Mr, Spilett,” replied Herbert.  “Don’t let us say anything to Pencroft yet; we will prepare these leaves, and one fine day we will present him with a pipe already filled!”

“All right, Herbert, and on that day our worthy companion will have nothing left to wish for in this world.”

The reporter and the lad secured a good store of the precious plant, and then returned to Granite House, where they smuggled it in with as much precaution as if Pencroft had been the most vigilant and severe of custom-house officers.

Cyrus Harding and Neb were taken into confidence, and the sailor suspected nothing during the whole time, necessarily somewhat long, which was required in order to dry the small leaves, chop them up, and subject them to a certain torrefaction on hot stones.  This took two months; but all these manipulations were successfully carried on unknown to Pencroft, for, occupied with the construction of his boat, he only returned to Granite House at the hour of rest.

For some days they had observed an enormous animal two or three miles out in the open sea swimming around Lincoln Island.  This was a whale of the largest size, which apparently belonged to the southern species, called the “Cape Whale.”

“What a lucky chance it would be if we could capture it!” cried the sailor.  “Ah! if we only had a proper boat and a good harpoon, I would say ‘After the beast,’ for he would be well worth the trouble of catching!”

“Well, Pencroft,” observed Harding, “I should much like to watch you handling a harpoon.  It would be very interesting.”

“I am astonished,” said the reporter, “to see a whale in this comparatively high latitude.”

“Why so, Mr. Spilett?” replied Herbert.  “We are exactly in that part of the Pacific which English and American whalemen call the whale field, and it is here, between New Zealand and South America, that the whales of the Southern Hemisphere are met with in the greatest numbers.”