It appeared as if this signal had been waited for; the barking immediately came nearer, and soon a dog bounded into the passage.  Pencroft, Herbert, and Spilett entered after him.

An armful of dry wood was thrown on the embers.  The passage was lighted up with a bright flame.

“It is Top!” cried Herbert.

It was indeed Top, a magnificent Anglo-Norman, who derived from these two races crossed the swiftness of foot and the acuteness of smell which are the preeminent qualities of coursing dogs.  It was the dog of the engineer, Cyrus Harding.  But he was alone!  Neither Neb nor his master accompanied him!

How was it that his instinct had guided him straight to the Chimneys, which he did not know?  It appeared inexplicable, above all, in the midst of this black night and in such a tempest!  But what was still more inexplicable was, that Top was neither tired, nor exhausted, nor even soiled with mud or sand!—­Herbert had drawn him towards him, and was patting his head, the dog rubbing his neck against the lad’s hands.

“If the dog is found, the master will be found also!” said the reporter.

“God grant it!” responded Herbert.  “Let us set off!  Top will guide us!”

Pencroft did not make any objection.  He felt that Top’s arrival contradicted his conjectures.  “Come along then!” said he.

Pencroft carefully covered the embers on the hearth.  He placed a few pieces of wood among them, so as to keep in the fire until their return.  Then, preceded by the dog, who seemed to invite them by short barks to come with him, and followed by the reporter and the boy, he dashed out, after having put up in his handkerchief the remains of the supper.

The storm was then in all its violence, and perhaps at its height.  Not a single ray of light from the moon pierced through the clouds.  To follow a straight course was difficult.  It was best to rely on Top’s instinct.  They did so.  The reporter and Herbert walked behind the dog, and the sailor brought up the rear.  It was impossible to exchange a word.  The rain was not very heavy, but the wind was terrific.

However, one circumstance favored the seaman and his two companions.  The wind being southeast, consequently blew on their backs.  The clouds of sand, which otherwise would have been insupportable, from being received behind, did not in consequence impede their progress.  In short, they sometimes went faster than they liked, and had some difficulty in keeping their feet; but hope gave them strength, for it was not at random that they made their way along the shore.  They had no doubt that Neb had found his master, and that he had sent them the faithful dog.  But was the engineer living, or had Neb only sent for his companions that they might render the last duties to the corpse of the unfortunate Harding?

After having passed the precipice, Herbert, the reporter, and Pencroft prudently stepped aside to stop and take breath.  The turn of the rocks sheltered them from the wind, and they could breathe after this walk or rather run of a quarter of an hour.