Chapter 28

CHAPTER 6

Cyrus Harding stood still, without saying a word. His companions searched
in the darkness on the wall, in case the wind should have moved the ladder,
and on the ground, thinking that it might have fallen down.... But the
ladder had quite disappeared. As to ascertaining if a squall had blown it
on the landing-place, half way up, that was impossible in the dark.

"If it is a joke," cried Pencroft, "it is a very stupid one! To come home
and find no staircase to go up to your room by--that's nothing for weary
men to laugh at."

Neb could do nothing but cry out "Oh! oh! oh!"

"I begin to think that very curious things happen in Lincoln Island!"
said Pencroft.

"Curious?" replied Gideon Spilett, "not at all, Pencroft, nothing can be
more natural. Some one has come during our absence, taken possession of our
dwelling and drawn up the ladder."

"Some one," cried the sailor. "But who?"

"Who but the hunter who fired the bullet?" replied the reporter.

"Well, if there is any one up there," replied Pencroft, who began to lose
patience, "I will give them a hail, and they must answer."

And in a stentorian voice the sailor gave a prolonged "Halloo!" which was
echoed again and again from the cliff and rocks.

The settlers listened and they thought they heard a sort of chuckling
laugh, of which they could not guess the origin. But no voice replied to
Pencroft, who in vain repeated his vigorous shouts.

There was something indeed in this to astonish the most apathetic of men,
and the settlers were not men of that description. In their situation every
incident had its importance, and, certainly, during the seven months which
they had spent on the island, they had not before met with anything of so
surprising a character.

Be that as it may, forgetting their fatigue in the singularity of the
event, they remained below Granite House, not knowing what to think, not
knowing what to do, questioning each other without any hope of a
satisfactory reply, every one starting some supposition each more unlikely
than the last. Neb bewailed himself, much disappointed at not being able to
get into his kitchen, for the provisions which they had had on their
expedition were exhausted, and they had no means of renewing them.

"My friends," at last said Cyrus Harding, "there is only one thing to be
done at present; wait for day, and then act according to circumstances. But
let us go to the Chimneys. There we shall be under shelter, and if we
cannot eat, we can at least sleep."

"But who is it that has played us this cool trick?" again asked Pencroft,
unable to make up his mind to retire from the spot.

Whoever it was, the only thing practicable was to do as the