“Hey, Herbert! how capital it sounds!  It will be impossible to lose ourselves, my boy, since, whether we follow the way to Lake Grant, or whether we join the Mercy through the woods of the Far West, we shall be certain to arrive at Prospect Heights, and, consequently, at Union Bay!”

It had been agreed, that without forming a compact band, the settlers should not stray away from each other.  It was very certain that the thick forests of the island were inhabited by dangerous animals, and it was prudent to be on their guard.  In general, Pencroft, Herbert, and Neb walked first, preceded by Top, who poked his nose into every bush.  The reporter and the engineer went together, Gideon Spilett ready to note every incident, the engineer silent for the most part, and only stepping aside to pick up one thing or another, a mineral or vegetable substance, which he put into his pocket, without making any remark.

“What can he be picking up?” muttered Pencroft.  “I have looked in vain for anything that’s worth the trouble of stooping for.”

Towards ten o’clock the little band descended the last declivities of Mount Franklin.  As yet the ground was scantily strewn with bushes and trees.  They were walking over yellowish calcinated earth, forming a plain of nearly a mile long, which extended to the edge of the wood.  Great blocks of that basalt, which, according to Bischof, takes three hundred and fifty millions of years to cool, strewed the plain, very confused in some places.  However, there were here no traces of lava, which was spread more particularly over the northern slopes.

Cyrus Harding expected to reach, without incident, the course of the creek, which he supposed flowed under the trees at the border of the plain, when he saw Herbert running hastily back, while Neb and the sailor were hiding behind the rocks.

“What’s the matter, my boy?” asked Spilett.

“Smoke,” replied Herbert.  “We have seen smoke among the rocks, a hundred paces from us.”

“Men in this place?” cried the reporter.

“We must avoid showing ourselves before knowing with whom we have to deal,” replied Cyrus Harding.  “I trust that there are no natives on this island; I dread them more than anything else.  Where is Top?”

“Top is on before.”

“And he doesn’t bark?”

“No.”

“That is strange.  However, we must try to call him back.”

In a few moments, the engineer, Gideon Spilett, and Herbert had rejoined their two companions, and like them, they kept out of sight behind the heaps of basalt.

From thence they clearly saw smoke of a yellowish color rising in the air.

Top was recalled by a slight whistle from his master, and the latter, signing to his companions to wait for him, glided away among the rocks.  The colonists, motionless, anxiously awaited the result of this exploration, when a shout from the engineer made them hasten forward.  They soon joined him, and were at once struck with a disagreeable odor which impregnated the atmosphere.