“I am sure of it!” replied Paganel.
“By my faith, Paganel,” said Glenarvan, “this is a pretension that astonishes me greatly, coming from the secretary of a geographical society.”
“Why?” inquired Paganel, touched in his sensitive point.
“Because, if you admit the word Australia, you admit at the same time that there are Indians in that country, a fact which has not yet been proved.”
Paganel was by no means surprised at this argument. He seemingly expected it, and began to smile.
“My dear Glenarvan,” said he, “do not be too hasty in your triumph. I am going to defeat you completely, as no Englishman has ever been defeated.”
“I ask nothing better. Defeat me, Paganel.”
“Listen, then. You say that the Indians mentioned in the document belong exclusively to Patagonia. The incomplete word indi does not mean Indians, but natives (indigènes). Now do you admit that there are natives in Australia?”
It must be confessed that Glenarvan now gazed fixedly at Paganel.
“Bravo, Paganel!” said the major.
“Do you admit my interpretation, my dear lord?”
“Yes,” replied Glenarvan, “if you can prove to me that the imperfect word gonie does not relate to the country of the Patagonians.”
“No,” cried Paganel, “it certainly does not mean Patagonia. Read anything you will but that.”
“But what?”
“Cosmogonie! théogonie! agonie!”
“Agonie!” cried the major.
“That is indifferent to me,” replied Paganel; “the word has no importance. I shall not even search for what it may signify. The principal point is that Austral means Australia, and we must have been blindly following a false trail, not to have discovered before so evident a meaning. If I had found the document, if my judgment had not been set aside by your interpretation, I should never have understood it otherwise.”
This time cheers, congratulations, and compliments greeted Paganel’s words. Austin, the sailors, the major, and Robert especially, were delighted to revive their hopes, and applauded the worthy geographer. Glenarvan, who had gradually been undeceived, was, as he said, almost ready to surrender.
“One last remark, my dear Paganel, and I have only to bow before your sagacity.”
“Speak!”
“How do you arrange these newly-interpreted words, and in what way do you read the document?”
“Nothing is easier. Here is the document,” said Paganel, producing the precious paper that he had studied so conscientiously for several days. A profound silence ensued, while the geographer, collecting his thoughts, took his time to answer. His finger followed the incomplete lines on the document, while, in a confident tone, he expressed himself in the following terms:
“ ‘June 7th, 1862, the brig Britannia, of Glasgow, foundered after’—let us put, if you wish, ‘two days, three days,’ or, ‘a long struggle,’—it matters little, it is quite unimportant—‘on the coast of Australia. Directing their course to shore, two sailors and Captain Grant endeavored to land,’ or ‘did land on the continent, where they will be,’ or ‘are prisoners of cruel natives. They cast this document,’ and so forth. Is it clear?”
“It is clear,” replied Glenarvan, “if the word continent can be applied to Australia, which is only an island.”
“Be assured, my dear Glenarvan, the best geographers are agreed in naming this island the Australian continent.”
“Then I have but one thing to say, my friends,” cried Glenarvan. “To Australia, and may Heaven assist us!”
“To Australia!” repeated his companions, with one accord.
“Do you know, Paganel,” added Glenarvan, “that your presence on board the Duncan is a providential circumstance?”
“Well,” replied Paganel, “let us suppose that I am an envoy of Providence, and say no more about it.”
Thus ended this conversation, that in the future led to such great results. It completely changed the moral condition of the travelers. They had caught again the thread of the labyrinth in which they had thought themselves forever lost. A new hope arose on the ruins of their fallen projects. They could fearlessly leave behind them this American continent, and already all their thoughts flew away to the Australian land. On reaching the Duncan, they would not bring despair on board, and Lady Helena and Mary Grant would not have to lament the irrevocable loss of the captain. Thus they forgot the dangers of their situation in their newfound joy, and their only regret was that they could not start at once.
It was now four o’clock in the afternoon, and they resolved to take supper at six. Paganel wished to celebrate this joyful day by a splendid banquet. As the bill of fare was very limited, he proposed to Robert that they should go hunting “in the neighboring forest,” at which idea the boy clapped his hands. They took Thalcave’s powder-flask, cleaned the revolvers, loaded them with fine shot, and started.
“Do not go far,” said the major, gravely, to the two huntsmen.
After their departure Glenarvan and MacNabb went to consult the notches on the tree, while Wilson and Mulready revived the smouldering embers.
Arriving at the surface of this immense lake, they saw no sign of abatement. The waters seemed to have attained their highest elevation; but the violence with which they rolled from south to north proved that the equilibrium of the Argentine rivers was not yet established. Before the liquid mass could lower, it must first become calm, like the sea when flood-tide ends and ebb begins. They could not, therefore, expect a subsidence of the waters so long as they flowed towards the north with such swiftness.
While Glenarvan and the major were making these observations, reports resounded in the tree, accompanied by cries of joy almost as noisy. The clear treble of Robert contrasted sharply with the deep bass of Paganel, and the strife was which should be the most boyish. The hunt promised well, and gave hopes of culinary wonders.
When the major and Glenarvan returned to the fire, they had to congratulate Wilson upon an excellent idea. The honest sailor had devoted himself to fishing with
