The cart was brought.  Pencroft harnessed the onager.  Cyrus Harding and the reporter raised Herbert’s mattress and placed it on the bottom of the cart.  The weather was fine.  The sun’s bright rays glanced through the trees.

“Are the guns ready?” asked Cyrus Harding.

They were.  The engineer and Pencroft, each armed with a double-barreled gun, and Gideon Spilett carrying his rifle, had nothing to do but start.

“Are you comfortable, Herbert?” asked the engineer.

“Ah, captain,” replied the lad, “don’t be uneasy, I shall not die on the road!”

While speaking thus, it could be seen that the poor boy had called up all his energy, and by the energy of a powerful will had collected his failing strength.

The engineer felt his heart sink painfully.  He still hesitated to give the signal for departure; but that would have driven Herbert to despair—­killed him perhaps.

“Forward!” said Harding.

The gate of the corral was opened.  Jup and Top, who knew when to be silent, ran in advance.  The cart came out, the gate was reclosed, and the onager, led by Pencroft, advanced at a slow pace.

Certainly, it would have been safer to have taken a different road than that which led straight from the corral to Granite House, but the cart would have met with great difficulties in moving under the trees.  It was necessary, therefore, to follow this way, although it was well known to the convicts.

Cyrus Harding and Gideon Spilett walked one on each side of the cart, ready to answer to any attack.  However, it was not probable that the convicts would have yet left the plateau of Prospect Heights.

Neb’s note had evidently been written and sent as soon as the convicts had shown themselves there.  Now, this note was dated six o’clock in the morning, and the active orang, accustomed to come frequently to the corral, had taken scarcely three quarters of an hour to cross the five miles which separated it from Granite House.  They would, therefore, be safe at that time, and if there was any occasion for firing, it would probably not be until they were in the neighborhood of Granite House.  However, the colonists kept a strict watch.  Top and Jup, the latter armed with his club, sometimes in front, sometimes beating the wood at the sides of the road, signalized no danger.

The cart advanced slowly under Pencroft’s guidance.  It had left the corral at half-past seven.  An hour after, four out of the five miles had been cleared, without any incident having occurred.  The road was as deserted as all that part of the Jacamar Wood which lay between the Mercy and the lake.  There was no occasion for any warning.  The wood appeared as deserted as on the day when the colonists first landed on the island.

They approached the plateau.  Another mile and they would see the bridge over Creek Glycerine.  Cyrus Harding expected to find it in its place; supposing that the convicts would have crossed it, and that, after having passed one of the streams which enclosed the plateau, they would have taken the precaution to lower it again, so as to keep open a retreat.