“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?”
Whilst 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 notebook, and wrote these words:—