The loss of the box was certainly to be regretted, but the boy was still sure of procuring fire in some way or other.

Pencroft, more experienced, did not think so, although he was not a man to trouble himself about a small or great grievance.

At any rate, there was only one thing to be done--to await the return of Neb and the reporter; but they must give up the feast of hard eggs which they had meant to prepare, and a meal of raw flesh was not an agreeable prospect either for themselves or for the others.
Before returning to the cave, the sailor and Herbert, in the event of fire being positively unattainable, collected some more shell-fish, and then silently retraced their steps to their dwelling.
Pencroft, his eyes fixed on the ground, still looked for his box.

He even climbed up the left bank of the river from its mouth to the angle where the raft had been moored.

He returned to the plateau, went over it in every direction, searched among the high grass on the border of the forest, all in vain.
It was five in the evening when he and Herbert re-entered the cave.
It is useless to say that the darkest corners of the passages were ransacked before they were obliged to give it up in despair.