But up to ten in the evening, there were no signs of Ayrton. It was, therefore, judged best to send a fresh despatch, requiring an immediate reply.
The bell of the telegraph at Granite House remained mute.
The colonists’ uneasiness was great. What had happened? Was Ayrton no longer at the corral, or if he was still there, had he no longer control over his movements? Could they go to the corral in this dark night?
They consulted. Some wished to go, the others to remain.
“But,” said Herbert, “perhaps some accident has happened to the telegraphic apparatus, so that it works no longer?”
“That may be,” said the reporter.
“Wait till to-morrow,” replied Cyrus Harding. “It is possible, indeed, that Ayrton has not received our despatch, or even that we have not received his.”
They waited, of
