"We shall find one at the corral."
Harding and his companions had left Granite House at twelve minutes past
nine. At forty-seven minutes past nine they had traversed three out of
the five miles which separated the mouth of the Mercy from the corral.
At that moment sheets of lightning spread over the island and illumined
the dark trees. The flashes dazzled and almost blinded them. Evidently
the storm would not be long in bursting forth.
The flashes gradually became brighter and more rapid. Distant thunder
growled in the sky. The atmosphere was stifling.
The colonists proceeded as if they were urged onwards by some
irresistible force.
At ten o'clock a vivid flash showed them the palisade, and as they
reached the gate the storm burst forth with tremendous fury.
In a minute the corral was crossed, and Harding stood before the hut.
Probably the house was occupied by the stranger, since it was from
thence that the telegram had been sent. However, no light shone through
the window.
The engineer knocked at the door.
No answer.
Cyrus Harding opened the door, and the settlers entered the room, which
was perfectly dark. A light was struck by Neb, and in a few moments the
lantern was lighted and the light thrown into every corner of the room.
There was no one there. Everything was in the state in which it had
been left.
"Have we been deceived by an illusion?" murmured Cyrus Harding.