《The Mysterious Island 神秘岛》Book 3 Chapter 7（在线收听）

At Herbert's cry, Pencroft, letting his gun fall, rushed towards him.

"They have killed him!" he cried. "My boy! They have killed him!"

Cyrus Harding and Gideon Spilett ran to Herbert.

The reporter listened to ascertain if the poor lad's heart was still beating.

"He lives," said he, "but he must be carried--"

"To Granite House? that is impossible!" replied the engineer.

"Into the corral, then!" said Pencroft.

"In a moment," said Harding.

And he ran round the left corner of the palisade. There he found a convict, who aiming at him, sent a ball through his hat. In a few seconds, before he had even time to fire his second barrel, he fell, struck to the heart by Harding's dagger, more sure even than his gun.

During this time, Gideon Spilett and the sailor hoisted themselves over the palisade, leaped into the enclosure, threw down the props which supported the inner door, ran into the empty house, and soon, poor Herbert was lying on Ayrton's bed. In a few moments, Harding was by his side.

On seeing Herbert senseless, the sailor's grief was terrible.

He sobbed, he cried, he tried to beat his head against the wall.

Neither the engineer nor the reporter could calm him. They themselves were choked with emotion. They could not speak.

However, they knew that it depended on them to rescue from death the poor boy who was suffering beneath their eyes. Gideon Spilett had not passed through the many incidents by which his life had been checkered without acquiring some slight knowledge of medicine. He knew a little of everything, and several times he had been obliged to attend to wounds produced either by a sword-bayonet or shot. Assisted by Cyrus Harding, he proceeded to render the aid Herbert required.

The reporter was immediately struck by the complete stupor in which Herbert lay, a stupor owing either to the hemorrhage, or to the shock, the ball having struck a bone with sufficient force to produce a violent concussion.

Herbert was deadly pale, and his pulse so feeble that Spilett only felt it beat at long intervals, as if it was on the point of stopping.

These symptoms were very serious.

Herbert's chest was laid bare, and the blood having been stanched with handkerchiefs, it was bathed with cold water.

The contusion, or rather the contused wound appeared,--an oval below the chest between the third and fourth ribs. It was there that Herbert had been hit by the bullet.

Cyrus Harding and Gideon Spilett then turned the poor boy over; as they did so, he uttered a moan so feeble that they almost thought it was his last sigh.

Herberts back was covered with blood from another contused wound, by which the ball had immediately escaped.

"God be praised!" said the reporter, "the ball is not in the body, and we shall not have to extract it."

"But the heart?" asked Harding.

"The heart has not been touched; if it had been, Herbert would be dead!"

"Dead!" exclaimed Pencroft, with a groan.

The sailor had only heard the last words uttered by the reporter.

"No, Pencroft," replied Cyrus Harding, "no! He is not dead. His pulse still beats. He has even uttered a moan. But for your boy's sake, calm yourself. We have need of all our self-possession."

"Do not make us lose it, my friend."

Pencroft was silent, but a reaction set in, and great tears rolled down his cheeks.

In the meanwhile, Gideon Spilett endeavored to collect his ideas, and proceed methodically. After his examination he had no doubt that the ball, entering in front, between the seventh and eighth ribs, had issued behind between the third and fourth. But what mischief had the ball committed in its passage? What important organs had been reached? A professional surgeon would have had difficulty in determining this at once, and still more so the reporter.

However, he knew one thing, this was that he would have to prevent the inflammatory strangulation of the injured parts, then to contend with the local inflammation and fever which would result from the wound, perhaps mortal! Now, what styptics, what antiphiogistics ought to be employed? By what means could inflammation be prevented?

At any rate, the most important thing was that the two wounds should be dressed without delay. It did not appear necessary to Gideon Spilett that a fresh flow of blood should be caused by bathing them in tepid water, and compressing their lips. The hemorrhage had been very abundant, and Herbert was already too much enfeebled by the loss of blood.

The reporter, therefore, thought it best to simply bathe the two wounds with cold water.

Herbert was placed on his left side, and was maintained in that position.

"He must not be moved." said Gideon Spilett. "He is in the most favorable position for the wounds in his back and chest to suppurate easily, and absolute rest is necessary."

"What! can't we carry him to Granite House?" asked Pencroft.

"No, Pencroft," replied the reporter.

"I'll pay the villains off!" cried the sailor, shaking his fist in a menacing manner.

"Pencroft!" said Cyrus Harding.

Gideon Spilett had resumed his examination of the wounded boy. Herbert was still so frightfully pale, that the reporter felt anxious.

"Cyrus," said he, "I am not a surgeon. I am in terrible perplexity. You must aid me with your advice, your experience!"

"Take courage, my friend," answered the engineer, pressing the reporter's hand. "Judge coolly. Think only of this: Herbert must be saved!"

These words restored to Gideon Spilett that self-possession which he had lost in a moment of discouragement on feeling his great responsibility. He seated himself close to the bed. Cyrus Harding stood near. Pencroft had torn up his shirt, and was mechanically making lint.

Spilett then explained to Cyrus Harding that he thought he ought first of all to stop the hemorrhage, but not close the two wounds, or cause their immediate cicatrization, for there had been internal perforation, and the suppuration must not be allowed to accumulate in the chest.

Harding approved entirely, and it was decided that the two wounds should be dressed without attempting to close them by immediate coaptation.

And now did the colonists possess an efficacious agent to act against the inflammation which might occur?

Yes. They had one, for nature had generously lavished it. They had cold water, that is to say, the most powerful sedative that can be employed against inflammation of wounds, the most efficacious therapeutic agent in grave cases, and the one which is now adopted by all physicians. Cold water has, moreover, the advantage of leaving the wound in absolute rest, and preserving it from all premature dressing, a considerable advantage, since it has been found by experience that contact with the air is dangerous during the first days.

Gideon Spilett and Cyrus Harding reasoned thus with their simple good sense, and they acted as the best surgeon would have done. Compresses of linen were applied to poor Herbert's two wounds, and were kept constantly wet with cold water.

The sailor had at first lighted a fire in the hut, which was not wanting in things necessary for life. Maple sugar, medicinal plants, the same which the lad had gathered on the banks of Lake Grant, enabled them to make some refreshing drinks, which they gave him without his taking any notice of it. His fever was extremely high, and all that day and night passed without his becoming conscious.

Herbert's life hung on a thread, and this thread might break at any moment. The next day, the 12th of November, the hopes of Harding and his companions slightly revived. Herbert had come out of his long stupor. He opened his eyes, he recognized Cyrus Harding, the reporter, and Pencroft. He uttered two or three words. He did not know what had happened. They told him, and Spilett begged him to remain perfectly still, telling him that his life was not in danger, and that his wounds would heal in a few days. However, Herbert scarcely suffered at all, and the cold water with which they were constantly bathed, prevented any inflammation of the wounds. The suppuration was established in a regular way, the fever did not increase, and it might now be hoped that this terrible wound would not involve any catastrophe. Pencroft felt the swelling of his heart gradually subside. He was like a sister of mercy. like a mother by the bed of her child.

Herbert dozed again, but his sleep appeared more natural.

"Tell me again that you hope, Mr. Spilett," said Pencroft. "Tell me again that you will save Herbert!"

"Yes, we will save him!" replied the reporter. "The wound is serious, and, perhaps, even the ball has traversed the lungs, but the perforation of this organ is not fatal."

"God bless you!" answered Pencroft.

As may be believed, during the four-and-twenty hours they had been in the corral, the colonists had no other thought than that of nursing Herbert. They did not think either of the danger which threatened them should the convicts return, or of the precautions to be taken for the future.

But on this day, while Pencroft watched by the sick-bed, Cyrus Harding and the reporter consulted as to what it would be best to do.

First of all they examined the corral. There was not a trace of Ayrton. Had the unhappy man been dragged away by his former accomplices? Had he resisted, and been overcome in the struggle? This last supposition was only too probable. Gideon Spilett, at the moment he scaled the palisade, had clearly seen some one of the convicts running along the southern spur of Mount Franklin, towards whom Top had sprung. It was one of those whose object had been so completely defeated by the rocks at the mouth of the Mercy. Besides, the one killed by Harding, and whose body was found outside the enclosure, of course belonged to Bob Harvey's crew.

As to the corral, it had not suffered any damage. The gates were closed, and the animals had not been able to disperse in the forest. Nor could they see traces of any struggle, any devastation, either in the hut, or in the palisade. The ammunition only, with which Ayrton had been supplied, had disappeared with him.

"The unhappy man has been surprised," said Harding, "and as he was a man to defend himself, he must have been overpowered."

"Yes, that is to be feared!" said the reporter. "Then, doubtless, the convicts installed themselves in the corral where they found plenty of everything, and only fled when they saw us coming. It is very evident, too, that at this moment Ayrton, whether living or dead, is not here!"

"We shall have to beat the forest," said the engineer, "and rid the island of these wretches. Pencroft's presentiments were not mistaken, when he wished to hunt them as wild beasts. That would have spared us all these misfortunes!"

"Yes," answered the reporter, "but now we have the right to be merciless!"

"At any rate," said the engineer, "we are obliged to wait some time, and to remain at the corral until we can carry Herbert without danger to Granite House."

"But Neb?" asked the reporter.

"Neb is in safety."

"But if, uneasy at our absence, he would venture to come?"

"He must not come!" returned Cyrus Harding quickly. "He would be murdered on the road!"

"It is very probable, however, that he will attempt to rejoin us!"

"Ah, if the telegraph still acted, he might be warned! But that is impossible now! As to leaving Pencroft and Herbert here alone, we could not do it! Well, I will go alone to Granite House."

"No, no! Cyrus," answered the reporter, "you must not expose yourself! Your courage would be of no avail. The villains are evidently watching the corral, they are hidden in the thick woods which surround it, and if you go we shall soon have to regret two misfortunes instead of one!"

"But Neb?" repeated the engineer. "It is now four-and-twenty hours since he has had any news of us! He will be sure to come!"

"And as he will be less on his guard than we should be ourselves," added Spilett, "he will be killed!"

"Is there really no way of warning him?"

While the engineer thought, his eyes fell on Top, who, going backwards and forwards seemed to say,--

"Am not I here?"

"Top!" exclaimed Cyrus Harding.

The animal sprang at his master's call.

"Yes, Top will go," said the reporter, who had understood the engineer.

"Top can go where we cannot! He will carry to Granite House the news of the corral, and he will bring back to us that from Granite House!"

"Quick!" said Harding. "Quick!"

Spilett rapidly tore a leaf from his note-book, and wrote these words:--

"Herbert wounded. We are at the corral. Be on your guard. Do not leave Granite House. Have the convicts appeared in the neighborhood? Reply by Top."

This laconic note contained all that Neb ought to know, and at the same time asked all that the colonists wished to know. It was folded and fastened to Top's collar in a conspicuous position.

"Top, my dog," said the engineer, caressing the animal, "Neb, Top! Neb! Go, go!"

Top bounded at these words. He understood, he knew what was expected of him. The road to the corral was familiar to him. In less than an hour he could clear it, and it might be hoped that where neither Cyrus Harding nor the reporter could have ventured without danger, Top, running among the grass or in the wood, would pass unperceived.

The engineer went to the gate of the corral and opened it.

"Neb, Top! Neb!" repeated the engineer, again pointing in the direction of Granite House.

Top sprang forwards, then almost immediately disappeared.

"He will get there!" said the reporter.

"Yes, and he will come back, the faithful animal!"

"What o'clock is it?" asked Gideon Spilett.

"Ten."

"In an hour he may be here. We will watch for his return."

The gate of the corral was closed. The engineer and the reporter re-entered the house. Herbert was still in a sleep. Pencroft kept the compresser always wet. Spilett, seeing there was nothing he could do at that moment, busied himself in preparing some nourishment, while attentively watching that part of the enclosure against the hill, at which an attack might be expected.

The settlers awaited Top's return with much anxiety. A little before eleven o'clock, Cyrus Harding and the reporter, rifle in hand, were behind the gate, ready to open it at the first bark of their dog.

They did not doubt that if Top had arrived safely at Granite House, Neb would have sent him back immediately.

They had both been there for about ten minutes, when a report was heard, followed by repeated barks.

The engineer opened the gate, and seeing smoke a hundred feet off in the wood, he fired in that direction.

Almost immediately Top bounded into the corral, and the gate was quickly shut.

"Top, Top!" exclaimed the engineer, taking the dog's great honest head between his hands.

A note was fastened to his neck, and Cyrus Harding read these words, traced in Neb's large writing:--"No pirates in the neighborhood of Granite House. I will not stir. Poor Mr. Herbert!"

潘克洛夫一听见赫伯特的喊声，连忙跑过去，手里的枪也扔在地上了。

“他们把他打死了！”他叫道。“我的孩子！他们把他打死了！”

赛勒斯·史密斯和吉丁·史佩莱也向赫伯特跑来。

通讯记者听了一下，打算确定可怜的少年的心脏是不是还在跳动。

“他还活着呢，”他说，“可是必须把他送到……”

“送到‘花岗石宫’去吗？那不可能！”工程师答道。

“那么，就抬到畜栏里去！”潘克洛夫说。

“赶快。”史密斯说。

他绕过栅栏的左角，就在那里，他发现一个罪犯正端枪对着他，一枪开来，打穿了他的帽子。工程师不等他开第二枪，就一刀刺进他的心口，这一刀比他开枪打的还要可靠些。说时迟，那时快，罪犯就倒在地上了。

这时候，吉丁·史佩莱和水手翻过栅栏，跳进围栏，拉开里门的门杠，跑进空屋去，不久以后，可怜的赫伯特就躺在艾尔通的床上了。过了一会儿，史密斯也来到了他的身边。

水手看见赫伯特晕过去，感到万分悲痛。他抽噎一阵哭—阵，一会儿又拿脑袋撞墙。工程师和通讯记者都没法使他平静下来。他们自己也悲痛得说不出话了。

然而，他们也知道，只有依靠自己，才能把眼前这个可怜的受苦的孩子从死亡的边缘救活过来。吉丁·史佩莱的一生中经历过许多周折，因此掌握了一些医药常识。他什么都懂得一点，他曾经有好几次不得不医治刀伤和枪伤。在赛勒斯·史密斯的帮助下，他开始对赫伯特进行必要的治疗。

通讯记者一上来就楞住了，因为赫伯特躺在那里完全失去了知觉；许由于流血过多，也许是枪弹力量过猛，打在骨头上，由于激烈的震荡而引起“休克”的缘故。

赫伯特面色惨白，史佩莱摸着他的脉搏，感到非常微弱，每隔很长时间才跳动一次，好象就要停止了似的。

病情是严重的。

他们解开赫伯特的衣裳，使他露出胸膛，用手帕止住血液往外流，然后用冷水洗擦他的心口。

赫伯特的伤口是一个椭圆形的窟窿，它的部位在胸膛以下，第三根和第四根肋骨之间，枪弹就是从这里打进去的。

接着赛勒斯·史密斯和吉丁·史佩莱让可怜的少年翻过身来；翻身的时候，少年微弱地呻吟了一声，他们几乎以为这是他临终前的叹息了。

赫伯特的背后还有一处创伤，伤口染满了鲜血，这是枪弹穿出去的地方。

“谢天谢地！”通讯记者说，“枪弹不在身体里边，我们用不着把它取出来了。”

“可是心脏呢？”史密斯问道。

“没有碰到心脏；要是碰到的话，赫伯特早死了！”

“死了？”潘克洛夫哼了一声。

水手只听见通讯记者所说的最后两个字。

“没有，潘克洛夫，”赛勒斯·史密斯说，“没有！他没有死。他的脉搏还在跳动。他还呻吟了一声呢。为了你的孩子着想，你还是平静一些吧。我们非常需要沉着。不要闹得大家都沉不住气，朋友。”

潘克洛夫不开口了，可是他听了以后，又引起他的伤心，大粒的眼泪从他的脸上滚了下来。

这时候，吉丁·史佩莱打算集中思想，有条不紊地进行医疗。经过检查，他肯定枪弹是从前胸进去，从后面穿出来的。可是枪弹在穿过身体内部的时候，进行了哪些破坏呢？它碰到了哪些重要的器官？这对一个真正的外科医师来说，也很难一下子判断出来，更不要说是一个通讯记者了。

可是，有一点他很清楚，那就是：必须防止伤口发炎造成血脉不通，然后和由于创伤（也许是致命的创伤！）而将要引起的局部发炎和高烧进行斗争：现在，应该用什么敷药，用什么消炎剂呢，怎样才能防止发炎呢。

别的先不管，目前最重要的还是赶紧把两处创口敷裹起来。吉丁·史佩莱认为不必用温水洗涤伤处，也不必挤压创口，因为那就会引起流血。赫伯特出血已经很多了，现在已经由于流血过多而变得十分虚弱。

因此，通讯记者认为最好简单地用冷水洗涤这两处创口。

赫伯特往左侧身躺着，保持着这个姿势。

“不能让他动，”吉丁·史佩莱说。“这个姿势对于他的背上和胸部的创口排脓最有利，应该保持这个姿势，现在必须让他保持绝对的休息。”

“什么！我们不能把他抬回‘花岗石宫’去吗？”潘克洛夫问道。

“不能，潘克洛夫。”通讯记者回答说。

“我一定要和这帮匪徒算账！”水手大声说，他带着吓唬人的神气，挥舞着拳头。

“潘克洛夫！”赛勒斯·史密斯说。

吉丁·史佩莱又继续诊断受伤的少年了。赫伯特的面色还是惨白得可怕，通讯记者心里非常焦急。

“赛勒斯，”他说，“我不是一个外科医生。我简直不知道该怎么办了。你应该给我出些主意，介绍一点经验！”

“鼓起勇气来吧，朋友，”工程师一面说，一面紧紧地握着通讯记者的手。“诊断的时候冷静一些。只想着一件事：一定要挽救赫伯特！”

吉丁·史佩莱感到责任重大，本来已经鼓不起勇气来了，这几句话又使他恢复了原有的沉着。他紧挨床坐着。赛勒斯·史密斯站在旁边。潘克洛夫撕下自己的衬衫，没精打采地在做绷带。

史佩莱向赛勒斯·史密斯解释，他认为首先应该制止出血，但是不能堵塞创伤，或是使伤口立刻长上，因为内脏被打穿了，不能把脓留在胸膛里。

史密斯完全同意，于是通讯记者决定不立刻把两个伤口缝合，暂时把它们敷裹起来。好在这两处创口都不用扩创。

发炎是很可能发生的，居民们有没有防止发炎的灵药呢？

有的。他们有一种，大自然慷慨地供应他们。他们有冷水，这是用来防止伤口发炎最有效的镇静剂，治疗严重症候的灵药，现在的医生，没有一个不用它的。冷水还有一个好处，它能使创口保持绝对休息，在一切过早的敷裹情况下保护创口。这是一个很大的优点，因为根据经验，最初几天和空气接触是非常危险的。

吉丁·史佩莱和赛勒斯·史密斯运用他们简单而良好的理智，进行了以上的判断，然后和最好的外科医生一样，进行了医疗。他们把敷布敷在可怜的赫伯特的两处创口上，不断用冷水保持敷布的湿润。

水手一开始就在屋子里生了火。各种生活必需品屋子里都不缺。这里有枫糖，还有各种药草——就是少年从格兰特湖畔搜集来的那些种——因此他们熬了一些清凉的饮料，当他们喂给少年的时候，他完全失去了知觉。他的热度很高，一昼夜过去了，他还没有苏醒过来。

赫伯特的生命可以说是千钧一发，这根头发随时都有断的可能。第二天是11月12日，史密斯和他的伙伴们总算有了一线希望。赫伯特从长时间的昏迷状态中醒过来了。他睁开眼睛，认出了赛勒斯·史密斯、通讯记者和潘克洛夫。他说了两三句话。究竟发生了些什么事情，他完全不知道。大家把经过都告诉他了，史佩莱要求他绝对不要动，告诉他已经没有生命的危险，再过几天，创口就可以复原了。赫伯特几乎没有感到任何痛苦，由于他们经常用冷水清涤，创口一点也没有发炎。化脓的过程很正常，体温也没有增高，现在可以希望这个可怕的创伤不致造成不幸的后果了。潘克洛夫渐渐地放下心来。他现在就象一个修女，一个坐在爱儿床边的慈母一样。

赫伯特又昏昏沉沉地睡着了，可是这次他睡得比较自然。

“再说一遍，你是有信心的，史佩莱先生，”潘克洛夫说。“再说一遍，你要救活赫伯特！”

“是的，我们要救活他！”通讯记者说。“伤势很严重，枪弹甚至可能穿透了他的肺，可是打穿了肺也不会致命。”

“上帝保佑你！”潘克洛夫说。

可以想象，居民们在畜栏里的这二十四小时内，脑子里所想的只有看护赫伯特的问题。他们既没有考虑如果罪犯们回来，自己会遇到哪些危险，也没有计划应该怎样预防将来。

这一天，当潘克洛夫守在病床旁边的时候，赛勒斯·史密斯和通讯记者谈到目前该怎么办才好。

首先，他们细细地检查了畜栏。哪儿也没有艾尔通的影子。这个不幸的人是不是被从前的部下架走了呢？他是不是进行了反抗，在斗争中被打败了呢？后一个假定的可能性非常大。吉丁·史佩莱爬上栅栏的时候，曾经清清楚楚地看见一个罪犯沿着富兰克林山的南部支脉逃跑，当时托普向他赶去了。慈悲河口的岩石撞坏了罪犯们的小船，使他们的企图彻底粉碎了，这个跑掉的亡命之徒就是他们之中的一个。还有史密斯刺死的那个歹徒，还躺在畜栏的外边，他当然也是鲍勃·哈维的党徒。

畜栏并没有遭到什么损坏。大门关得好好的，牲畜也没能逃到森林里去。不论是在屋子里，还是在栅栏里，他们都没有发现任何格斗和破坏的痕迹。不过艾尔通的武器却和他一起不见了。

“这个不幸的人遭到了袭击，”史密斯说，“他是一个善于自卫的人，准是最后抵挡不住了。”

“不错，恐怕是这样，”通讯记者说。“罪犯们看到畜栏里什么都有，一定就在这里住了下来，直到看见我们上这儿来才逃走的。同时，还有一点也很明显，不管艾尔通是死是活，我们来的时候，他已经不在这儿了！”

“我们一定要到森林里去搜索，”工程师说，“把这些匪徒从岛上消灭掉。潘克洛夫曾经打算象逮野兽似的追捕他们，这种预见是正确的。要是早那么做，就不少发生这些不幸的事故了！”

“是的，”通讯记者说，“现在我们不妨狠起心来干！”

“可是，”工程师说，“我们还只能暂时在畜栏里住一个时期，等到赫伯特不会因为移动而出什么危险的时候，再把他带回‘花岗石宫’去。”

“可是纳布呢？”通讯记者问道。

“纳布不会遇到危险的。”

“可是，假如他因为我们老不回去而着急，冒险跑到这儿来呢？”

“他不能来！”赛勒斯·史密斯很快地说，“他会在半路上被杀死的！”

“可是他很可能来找我们！”

“唉，要是电报还灵，我们可以警告他！现在却办不到了！我们决不能单把潘克洛夫和赫伯特留在这里！好吧，我一个人到‘花岗石宫’去一趟。”

“不能，不能！赛勒斯，”通讯记者说，“你不能暴露自己！这样冒险是没有必要的。匪徒们一定在监视着畜栏，他们躲在周围的密林里，你一走，我们的不幸事故马上就要由一件变成两件了！”

“可是纳布呢？”工程师重复道。“他已经整整一昼夜没有得到我们的消息了！他一定会上这儿来的！”

“并且他既然不知道应该象我们这样小心提防，”史佩莱补充说，“他一定会被打死的！”

“难道真的没有办法警告他了吗？”

当工程师在动脑筋的时候，他的眼光落在托普身上，托普走来走去，好象在说：

“我不是在这儿吗？”

“托普！”赛勒斯·史密斯叫道。

托普听见主人叫它，就跳起身来。

“对，托普可以去，”通讯记者明白了工程师的意思。“我们不能去的地方，托普都能去！可以让它把畜栏的消息带给‘花岗石宫’，然后再把‘花岗石宫’的消息带回来！”

“快！”史密斯说。“赶快！”

史佩莱急忙从笔记本上撕下一张纸来，在上面写着：

赫伯特受伤了。我们在吉栏。自己留神。不要离开“花岗石宫”。罪犯到附近来过没有？让托普把回信带给我们。

这封短信把要告诉纳布的话都包括在内了，同时也提出了居民们想知道的一切。他们把纸条折起来，系在托普颈部一个显眼的地方。

“托普，我的托普，”工程师一面说，一面抚摩着它，“纳布，托普！纳布！去，去！”

托普听见以后，来回乱跳。它明白工程师的意思，它知道大家要它做什么。畜栏路它是熟悉的，用不了一个钟头，它就可以走完这条路；不论是赛勒斯·史密斯还是通讯记者，目前要通过这条路，都必须冒着很大的危险，然而托普却可以在野草和密林中间，神不知鬼不觉地穿过去。

工程师走到畜栏门口，把门打开。

“纳布，托普！纳布！”工程师重复着，又指了指去“花岗石宫”的方向。

托普往前一跳，几乎立刻就不见了。

“它会到那儿的！”通讯记者说。

“是的，并且肯定它还会回来，忠实的狗！”

“几点钟了？”吉丁·史佩莱问道。

“十点钟。”

“一个钟头之内，它就可以到了。我们等着它回来吧。”

他们关上畜栏的门。工程师和通讯记者又回到屋里来了。赫伯特还没有醒。潘克洛夫始终保持着敷布的湿润。史佩莱一时觉得没有什么可做，就忙着准备一些富有营养的食品，同时他还不时注意着山那边的栅栏，因为匪徒可能从那边攻击。

居民们焦急不安地等待着托普。将近十一点钟的时候，赛勒斯·史密斯和通讯记者拿着步枪，站在门后，准备一听见狗叫就去开门。

他们深信这一点，如果托普平安到达“花岗石宫”，纳布一定会立刻打发它回来的。

他们等了约有十分钟，忽然听见一声枪响，接着就是几声狗叫。

工程师打开大门，只见一百英尺以外的森林里有一缕烟，他立刻朝那里开了一枪。

托普几乎立刻就跳进畜栏来了，他们赶紧关上大门。

“托普，托普！”工程师两手搂住忠实的托普的脖子，叫道。

它的颈部拴着一张纸条，上面是纳布写的几个大字。

赛勒斯·史密斯念道：

“花岗石宫”附近没有海盗。我不会乱动。可怜的赫伯特。