Chapter Forty Five.In the Woods.“They’re not over the river, Jem,” said Don, impatiently. “I wish you wouldn’t always look on the worst side of everything.”“That’s what your Uncle Josiah allus does with the sugar, Mas’ Don. If the foots was werry treacley when he had a hogshead turned up to look at the bottom first, he allus used to say as all the rest was poor quality.”“We’re not dealing with sugar now.”“No, Mas’ Don; this here arn’t half so sweet. I wish it was.”“Hssh!” came from Ngati again. And for the rest of the night they followed him in silence along ravines, over rugged patches of mountain side, with the great fronds of the tree-ferns brushing their faces, and nocturnal birds rushing away from them as their steps invaded the solitudes where they indulged in their hunt for food.When they encountered a stream, which came foaming and plunging down from the mountain, after carefully trying its depth, Ngati still led the way. Hour after hour they tramped wearily on through the darkness, Ngati rarely speaking, but pausing now and then to help them over some rugged place. Everything in the darkness was wild and strange, and there was an unreality in the journey that appeared dreamlike, the more so that, utterly worn out, Don from time to time tramped on in a state of drowsiness resembling sleep.But all this passed away as the faint light of day gave place to the brilliant glow of the morning sunshine, and Ngati came to a standstill in a ferny gully, down which a tremendous torrent poured with a heavy thunderous sound.And now, as Don and Jem were about to throw themselves down upon a bed of thick moss, Ngati held out his hand in English fashion to Don.“My pakeha,” he said softly, “morning.”There was something so quaint in his salutation that, in spite of weariness and trouble, Don laughed till he saw the great chiefs countenance cloud.But it cleared at once as Don caught his hand, pressed it warmly, and looked gratefully in his face.“Hah!” cried Ngati, grasping the hand he held with painful energy. “My pakeha, morning. Want eat?”“Yes, yes!” cried Jem, eagerly.“Yes, yes,” said Ngati; and then he stood, looking puzzled, as he tried to remember. At last, shaking his head sadly, he said, “No, no,” in a helpless, dissatisfied tone. “Want Tomati. Tomati—”He closed his eyes, and laid his head sidewise, to suggest that Tomati was dead, and his countenance, in spite of his grotesque tattooing, wore an aspect of sadness that touched Don.“Tomati dead,” he said slowly, and the chiefs eyes brightened.“Dead,” he said; “Tomati dead—dead—all—dead.”“Yes, poor fellows, all but the prisoners,” said Don, speaking slowly, in the hope that the chief might grasp some of his words.But he did not understand a syllable, though he seemed to feel that Don was sympathising with him, and he shook hands again gravely.“My pakeha,” he said, pressing Don’s hand. Then turning to Jem, he held out his other hand, and said slowly, “Jemmeree. Good boy.”“Well, that’s very kind of you,” said Jem, quietly. “We don’t understand one another much, but I do think you a good fellow, Ngati; so I shake hands hearty; and I’ll stand by you, mate, as you’ve stood by me.”“Good, good,” said Ngati, smiling, as if he understood all. Then, looking grave and pained again, he pointed over the mountain. “Maori kill,” he said. “Want eat?”“Yes; eat, eat,” said Jem, making signs with his mouth. “Pig—meat.”“No pig; no meat,” said Ngati, grasping the meaning directly; and going to a palm-like tree, he broke out some of its tender growth and handed it to his companions.“Eat,” he said; and he began to munch some of it himself.“Look at that now,” said Jem. “I should ha’ gone by that tree a hundred times without thinking it was good to eat. What’s it like, Mas’ Don?”“Something like stalky celery, or nut, or pear, all mixed up together.”“Yes; ’tarn’t bad,” said Jem. “What’s he doing now?”Ngati was busily hunting about for something, peering amongst the trees, but he did not seem to find that of which he was in search. He uttered a cry of satisfaction the next minute, though, as he stooped down and took a couple of eggs from a nest upon the ground.“Good—good!” he exclaimed, eagerly; and he gave them to Don to carry, while he once more resumed his search, which this time was successful, for he found a young tree, and stripped from its branches a large number of its olive-like berries.“There now,” said Jem. “Why, it’s all right, Mas’ Don; ’tarn’t tea and coffee, and bread and butter, but it’s salad and eggs and fruit. Why, fighting cocks’ll be nothing to it. We shall live like princes, see if we don’t. What’s them things like?”“Like very ripe apples, Jem, or medlars,” replied Don, who had been tasting the fruit carefully.“That’ll do, then. Pity we can’t find some more of them eggs, and don’t light a fire to cook ’em. I say, Ngati.”The Maori looked at him inquiringly.“More, more,” said Jem, holding up one of the eggs, and pointing to the ferny thicket.“No, no,” said Ngati, shaking his head. “Moa, moa.”He stooped down and held his hands apart in different directions, as if he were describing the shape of a moderate-sized oval pumpkin. Then, rising erect, he raised one hand to the full extent of his arm, bending the fingers so as to imitate the shape of a bird’s head, pressed his head against his arm, placed the left arm close to his body and a little forward, and then began to stalk about slowly.“Moa, moa,” he said, dropping his arm again, and pointing to the eggs, “Kiwi, kiwi.”“Kiwi, kiwi,” said Jem. “Can’t make out what he means, Mas’ Don; but it don’t matter. Shall we suck the eggs raw?”He made a gesture as if to break one, but Ngati snatched it away.“No, no!” he cried sharply, and snatched the other away.“Pig!” ejaculated Jem. “Well, I do call that greedy.”But if the chief was greedy over the eggs, which he secured in a roughly-made bag, of palm strips, ingeniously woven, he was generous enough over the fruit and palm, upon which they made a fair breakfast; after which Ngati examined Jem’s wounds, and then signed to him to come down to the side of the stream, seizing him by the wrist, and half dragging him in his energetic way.“Is he going to drown me, Mas’ Don?”“No, no, Jem. I know: he wants to bathe your wound.”So it proved, for Ngati made him lie down by a pool, and tenderly washed the injuries, ending by applying some cool bruised leaves to the places, and binding them up with wild flax.This done, he examined Don’s head, smiling with satisfaction because it was no worse.“Say, Mas’ Don, it do feel comf’table. Why, he’s quite a doctor, eh?”“What?” continued Jem, staring, as Ngati made signs.“He wants you to bathe his wounds. Your arm’s painful, Jem; I’ll do it.”Ngati lay down by the pool, and, pulling up some moss, Don bathed a couple of ugly gashes and a stab, that was roughly plugged with fibre. The wounds were so bad that it was a wonder to both that the great fellow could keep about; but he appeared to bear them patiently enough, smiling with satisfaction as his attendant carefully washed them, and in imitation of what he had seen, applied bruised leaves and moss, and finally bound them up with native flax.Don shuddered more than once as he performed his task, and was glad when it was over, Jem looking on calmly the while.“Why, Mas’ Don, a chap at home would want to go into hospital for less than that.”“Yes, Jem; but these men seem so healthy and well, they heal up quickly, and bear their hurts as if nothing was wrong.”“Sleep,” said Ngati, suddenly; and he signed to Don to lie down and to Jem to keep watch, while he lay down at once in the mossy nook close to the river, and hidden by overhanging canopies of ferns.“Oh, all right, Mas’ Don, I don’t mind,” said Jem; “only I was just as tired as him.”“Let me take the first watch, Jem.”“No, no; it’s all right, Mas’ Don. I meant you to lie down and rest, only he might ha’ offered to toss for first go.”“Call me then, at the end of an hour.”“All right, Mas’ Don,” said Jem, going through the business of taking out an imaginary watch, winding it up, and then looking at its face. “Five and twenty past seven, Mas’ Don, but I’m afraid I’m a little slow. These here baths don’t do one’s watch any good.”“You’ll keep a good look out, Jem.”“Just so, Mas’ Don. Moment I hear or see anything I calls you up. What time would you like your shaving water, sir? Boots or shoes this morning?”“Ah, Jem,” said Don, smiling, “I’m too tired to laugh.”And he lay back and dropped off to sleep directly, Ngati’s eyes having already closed.“Too tired to laugh,” said Jem to himself. “Poor dear lad, and him as brave as a young lion. Think of our coming to this. Shall we ever see old England again, and if we do, shall I be a cripple in this arm? Well, if I am, I won’t grumble, but bear it all like a man; and,” he added reverently, “please God save us and bring us back, if it’s only for my poor Sally’s sake, for I said I’d love her and cherish her, and keep her; and here am I one side o’ the world, and she’s t’other; and such is life.”
“They’re not over the river, Jem,” said Don, impatiently. “I wish you wouldn’t always look on the worst side of everything.”
“That’s what your Uncle Josiah allus does with the sugar, Mas’ Don. If the foots was werry treacley when he had a hogshead turned up to look at the bottom first, he allus used to say as all the rest was poor quality.”
“We’re not dealing with sugar now.”
“No, Mas’ Don; this here arn’t half so sweet. I wish it was.”
“Hssh!” came from Ngati again. And for the rest of the night they followed him in silence along ravines, over rugged patches of mountain side, with the great fronds of the tree-ferns brushing their faces, and nocturnal birds rushing away from them as their steps invaded the solitudes where they indulged in their hunt for food.
When they encountered a stream, which came foaming and plunging down from the mountain, after carefully trying its depth, Ngati still led the way. Hour after hour they tramped wearily on through the darkness, Ngati rarely speaking, but pausing now and then to help them over some rugged place. Everything in the darkness was wild and strange, and there was an unreality in the journey that appeared dreamlike, the more so that, utterly worn out, Don from time to time tramped on in a state of drowsiness resembling sleep.
But all this passed away as the faint light of day gave place to the brilliant glow of the morning sunshine, and Ngati came to a standstill in a ferny gully, down which a tremendous torrent poured with a heavy thunderous sound.
And now, as Don and Jem were about to throw themselves down upon a bed of thick moss, Ngati held out his hand in English fashion to Don.
“My pakeha,” he said softly, “morning.”
There was something so quaint in his salutation that, in spite of weariness and trouble, Don laughed till he saw the great chiefs countenance cloud.
But it cleared at once as Don caught his hand, pressed it warmly, and looked gratefully in his face.
“Hah!” cried Ngati, grasping the hand he held with painful energy. “My pakeha, morning. Want eat?”
“Yes, yes!” cried Jem, eagerly.
“Yes, yes,” said Ngati; and then he stood, looking puzzled, as he tried to remember. At last, shaking his head sadly, he said, “No, no,” in a helpless, dissatisfied tone. “Want Tomati. Tomati—”
He closed his eyes, and laid his head sidewise, to suggest that Tomati was dead, and his countenance, in spite of his grotesque tattooing, wore an aspect of sadness that touched Don.
“Tomati dead,” he said slowly, and the chiefs eyes brightened.
“Dead,” he said; “Tomati dead—dead—all—dead.”
“Yes, poor fellows, all but the prisoners,” said Don, speaking slowly, in the hope that the chief might grasp some of his words.
But he did not understand a syllable, though he seemed to feel that Don was sympathising with him, and he shook hands again gravely.
“My pakeha,” he said, pressing Don’s hand. Then turning to Jem, he held out his other hand, and said slowly, “Jemmeree. Good boy.”
“Well, that’s very kind of you,” said Jem, quietly. “We don’t understand one another much, but I do think you a good fellow, Ngati; so I shake hands hearty; and I’ll stand by you, mate, as you’ve stood by me.”
“Good, good,” said Ngati, smiling, as if he understood all. Then, looking grave and pained again, he pointed over the mountain. “Maori kill,” he said. “Want eat?”
“Yes; eat, eat,” said Jem, making signs with his mouth. “Pig—meat.”
“No pig; no meat,” said Ngati, grasping the meaning directly; and going to a palm-like tree, he broke out some of its tender growth and handed it to his companions.
“Eat,” he said; and he began to munch some of it himself.
“Look at that now,” said Jem. “I should ha’ gone by that tree a hundred times without thinking it was good to eat. What’s it like, Mas’ Don?”
“Something like stalky celery, or nut, or pear, all mixed up together.”
“Yes; ’tarn’t bad,” said Jem. “What’s he doing now?”
Ngati was busily hunting about for something, peering amongst the trees, but he did not seem to find that of which he was in search. He uttered a cry of satisfaction the next minute, though, as he stooped down and took a couple of eggs from a nest upon the ground.
“Good—good!” he exclaimed, eagerly; and he gave them to Don to carry, while he once more resumed his search, which this time was successful, for he found a young tree, and stripped from its branches a large number of its olive-like berries.
“There now,” said Jem. “Why, it’s all right, Mas’ Don; ’tarn’t tea and coffee, and bread and butter, but it’s salad and eggs and fruit. Why, fighting cocks’ll be nothing to it. We shall live like princes, see if we don’t. What’s them things like?”
“Like very ripe apples, Jem, or medlars,” replied Don, who had been tasting the fruit carefully.
“That’ll do, then. Pity we can’t find some more of them eggs, and don’t light a fire to cook ’em. I say, Ngati.”
The Maori looked at him inquiringly.
“More, more,” said Jem, holding up one of the eggs, and pointing to the ferny thicket.
“No, no,” said Ngati, shaking his head. “Moa, moa.”
He stooped down and held his hands apart in different directions, as if he were describing the shape of a moderate-sized oval pumpkin. Then, rising erect, he raised one hand to the full extent of his arm, bending the fingers so as to imitate the shape of a bird’s head, pressed his head against his arm, placed the left arm close to his body and a little forward, and then began to stalk about slowly.
“Moa, moa,” he said, dropping his arm again, and pointing to the eggs, “Kiwi, kiwi.”
“Kiwi, kiwi,” said Jem. “Can’t make out what he means, Mas’ Don; but it don’t matter. Shall we suck the eggs raw?”
He made a gesture as if to break one, but Ngati snatched it away.
“No, no!” he cried sharply, and snatched the other away.
“Pig!” ejaculated Jem. “Well, I do call that greedy.”
But if the chief was greedy over the eggs, which he secured in a roughly-made bag, of palm strips, ingeniously woven, he was generous enough over the fruit and palm, upon which they made a fair breakfast; after which Ngati examined Jem’s wounds, and then signed to him to come down to the side of the stream, seizing him by the wrist, and half dragging him in his energetic way.
“Is he going to drown me, Mas’ Don?”
“No, no, Jem. I know: he wants to bathe your wound.”
So it proved, for Ngati made him lie down by a pool, and tenderly washed the injuries, ending by applying some cool bruised leaves to the places, and binding them up with wild flax.
This done, he examined Don’s head, smiling with satisfaction because it was no worse.
“Say, Mas’ Don, it do feel comf’table. Why, he’s quite a doctor, eh?”
“What?” continued Jem, staring, as Ngati made signs.
“He wants you to bathe his wounds. Your arm’s painful, Jem; I’ll do it.”
Ngati lay down by the pool, and, pulling up some moss, Don bathed a couple of ugly gashes and a stab, that was roughly plugged with fibre. The wounds were so bad that it was a wonder to both that the great fellow could keep about; but he appeared to bear them patiently enough, smiling with satisfaction as his attendant carefully washed them, and in imitation of what he had seen, applied bruised leaves and moss, and finally bound them up with native flax.
Don shuddered more than once as he performed his task, and was glad when it was over, Jem looking on calmly the while.
“Why, Mas’ Don, a chap at home would want to go into hospital for less than that.”
“Yes, Jem; but these men seem so healthy and well, they heal up quickly, and bear their hurts as if nothing was wrong.”
“Sleep,” said Ngati, suddenly; and he signed to Don to lie down and to Jem to keep watch, while he lay down at once in the mossy nook close to the river, and hidden by overhanging canopies of ferns.
“Oh, all right, Mas’ Don, I don’t mind,” said Jem; “only I was just as tired as him.”
“Let me take the first watch, Jem.”
“No, no; it’s all right, Mas’ Don. I meant you to lie down and rest, only he might ha’ offered to toss for first go.”
“Call me then, at the end of an hour.”
“All right, Mas’ Don,” said Jem, going through the business of taking out an imaginary watch, winding it up, and then looking at its face. “Five and twenty past seven, Mas’ Don, but I’m afraid I’m a little slow. These here baths don’t do one’s watch any good.”
“You’ll keep a good look out, Jem.”
“Just so, Mas’ Don. Moment I hear or see anything I calls you up. What time would you like your shaving water, sir? Boots or shoes this morning?”
“Ah, Jem,” said Don, smiling, “I’m too tired to laugh.”
And he lay back and dropped off to sleep directly, Ngati’s eyes having already closed.
“Too tired to laugh,” said Jem to himself. “Poor dear lad, and him as brave as a young lion. Think of our coming to this. Shall we ever see old England again, and if we do, shall I be a cripple in this arm? Well, if I am, I won’t grumble, but bear it all like a man; and,” he added reverently, “please God save us and bring us back, if it’s only for my poor Sally’s sake, for I said I’d love her and cherish her, and keep her; and here am I one side o’ the world, and she’s t’other; and such is life.”
Chapter Forty Six.An Untiring Enemy.Jem kept careful watch and ward as he stood leaning on his spear. He was very weary, and could not help feeling envious of those who were sleeping so well. But he heard no sound of pursuit, and after a time the wondrous beauty of the glen in which they had halted, with its rushing waters and green lacing ferns, had so composing an effect upon his spirits, that he began to take an interest in the flowers that hung here and there, while the song of a finch sounded pleasant and homelike. Then the delicious melody of the bell-bird fell upon his ear; and while he was listening to this, he became interested in a beautiful blackbird, which came and hopped about him.Jem laughed, for his visitor had some white feathers just below the beak, and they suggested an idea to him as the bird bobbed and bowed and chattered.“Well,” he said, “if I was naming birds, I should call you the parson, for you look like one, with that white thing about your neck.”The bird looked at him knowingly, and flitted away. Directly after, as he turned his eyes in the direction where the uneaten fruit was lying, he saw that they had a visitor in the shape of one of the curious rails. The bird was already investigating the fruit, and after satisfying itself that the berries were of the kind that it could find for itself in the bush, it came running towards Jem, staring up at him, and as he extended the spear handle, instead of being frightened away, it pecked at the butt and then came nearer.“Well, you are a rum little beggar,” said Jem, stroking the bird’s back with the end of the spear. “I should just like to have you at home to run in and out among the sugar-barrels. I’d— Hah!”He turned round sharply, and levelled his spear at a great Maori, whose shadow had been cast across him, and who seemed to have sprung out of the bush.“Why, I thought it was one o’ they cannibals,” said Jem, lowering the spear. “Good job it wasn’t dark, old chap, or I should have given you a dig. What d’yer want?”“Sleep,” said Ngati laconically, and, taking Jem’s spear, he pointed to where Don was lying.“Me? What, already? Lie down?”“Sleep,” said Ngati again; and he patted Jem on the shoulder.“All right, I’ll go. Didn’t think I’d been watching so long.” He nodded and walked away. “Wish he wouldn’t pat me on the back that way. It makes me feel suspicious. It’s just as if he wanted to feel if I was getting fat enough.”Don was sleeping peacefully as Jem lay down and uttered a faint groan, for his left shoulder was very painful and stiff.“Wonder how long wounds take to heal,” he said softly. “Cuts arn’t much more than a week. Heigh-ho-hum! I’m very tired, but I sha’n’t be able to go to—”He was asleep almost as soon as he lay down, and directly after, as it seemed to him, he started into wakefulness, to find Ngati standing a few yards away, shading his eyes and gazing down the gully, and Don poking him with his spear.“All right, Sally, I’ll get up. I— Oh, it’s you, Mas’ Don.”“Quick, Jem! The Maoris are coming.”Jem sprang to his feet and seized the spear offered to him, as Ngati came forward, brushed the ferns about so as to destroy the traces of their bivouac, and then, holding up his hand for silence, he stood listening.A faint shout was heard, followed by another, nearer; and signing them to follow, the Maori went along up the gully, with the stream on their right.It was arduous work, for the ground was rapidly rising; but they were forced to hurry along, for every time they halted, they could hear the shouts of their pursuers, who seemed to be coming on with a pertinacity that there was no shaking off.It was hot in the extreme, but a crisp, cool air was blowing to refresh them, and, of its kind, there was plenty of food, Ngati cautiously picking and breaking in places where the disarrangement was not likely to be seen. Every now and then, too, they saw him make quite an eager dash on one side and return with eggs, which he carefully placed in the woven bag he had made.This went on till he had nearly a couple of dozen, at which, as he trudged along, Jem kept casting longing eyes.In spite of the danger and weariness, Don could not help admiring the beauty of the scene, as, from time to time, the gully opened out sufficiently for him to see that they were steadily rising toward a fine cone, which stood up high above a cluster of mountains, the silvery cloud that floated from its summit telling plainly of its volcanic nature.“Tapu!tapu!” Ngati said, every time he saw Don gazing at the mountain; but it was not till long after that he comprehended the meaning of the chiefs words, that the place was “tapu,” or sacred, and that it would act as a refuge for them, could they reach it, as the ordinary Maoris would not dare to follow them there.Higher up the valley, where the waters were dashing furiously down in many a cascade, Don began to realise that they were following the bed of a river, whose source was somewhere high up the mountain he kept on seeing from time to time, while, after several hours’ climbing, often over the most arduous, rocky ground, he saw that they were once more entering upon a volcanic district. Pillars of steam rose here and there, and all at once he started aside as a gurgling noise arose from beyond a patch of vivid green which covered the edges of a mud-pool, so hot that it was painful to the hand.From time to time Ngati had stopped to listen, the shouts growing fainter each time, while, as they progressed, a heavy thunderous roar grew louder, died away, and grew louder again.Don looked inquiringly at Jem.“It’s the big chimney of that mountain drawing, Mas’ Don.”“Nonsense!”“Nay, that’s what it is; and what I say is this. It’s all wery well getting away from them cannibals, but don’t let’s let old Ngati—”The chief looked sharply round.“Yes, I’m a-talking about you, old chap. I say, you’re not to take us right up that mountain, and into a place where we shall tumble in.”“Tapu!tapu!” said Ngati, nodding his head, and pointing toward the steaming cloud above the mountain.“Oh, you aggrawating savage!” cried Jem.Ngati took it as a compliment, and smiled. Then, pointing to a cluster of rocks where a jet of steam was being forced out violently, he led the way there, when they had to pass over a tiny stream of hot water, and a few yards farther on, they came to its source, a beautiful bright fount of the loveliest sapphire blue, with an edge that looked like a marble bath of a roseate tint, fringed every here and there with crystals of sulphur.“Let’s have a bathe!” cried Jem eagerly. “Is there time?”He stepped forward, and was about to plunge in his hand, when Ngati seized his shoulders and dragged him back.“What yer doing that for?” cried Jem.The Maori stepped forward, and made as if to dip in one of his feet, but snatched it back as if in pain. Then, smiling, he twisted some strands of grass into a band, fastened the end to the palm basket, and gently lowered it, full of eggs, into the sapphire depths, a jet of steam and a series of bubbles rising to the surface as the basket sank.“Why, Jem,” said Don laughing, “you wanted to bathe in the big copper.”“How was I to know that this was a foreign out-door kitchen?” replied Jem laughing.“And the water’s boiling hot,” added Don. “You can see it bubbling just at this end.”“Think o’ that now!” said Jem. “I say, what a big fire there must be somewhere down b’low. Strikes me, Mas’ Don, that when I makes my fortun’ and buys an estate I sha’n’t settle here.”“No, Jem. ‘There’s no place like home.’”“Well, home’s where you settle, arn’t it? But this won’t do for me. It’s dangerous to be safe.”Meanwhile, Ngati was listening intently, but, save the hissing of steam, the gurgling of boiling water, and the softened roar that seemed now distant, now close at hand, there was nothing to be heard, so he signed to them to sit down and rest.He set the example, and Don followed, to lie upon his back, restfully gazing up at the blue sky above, when Jem, who had been more particular about the choice of a place, slowly sat down, remained stationary for a few moments, and then sprang up, uttering a cry of pain.“Why, that stone’s red hot!” he cried.This was not the truth, but it was quite hot enough to make it a painful seat, and he chose another.“Well, of all the rum places, Mas’ Don!”He said no more on the subject, for just then Ngati rose, and carefully drew the bag of eggs from the boiling pool.“And I called him a pig!” said Jem, self-reproachfully.“No: no pig,” said Ngati, who caught the word.“Well, I didn’t say there was, obstinit,” said Jem. “Here, give us an egg. Fruit and young wood’s all werry well; but there’s no spoons and no salt!”In spite of these drawbacks, and amid a series of remarks on the convenience of cooking cauldrons all over the place, Jem made a hearty meal of new laid eggs, which they had just finished when Ngati looked up and seized his spear.“What’s the matter?” cried Don listening.Ngati pointed, and bent down, holding his hand to his ear.“I can hear nothing,” said Jem.Ngati pointed down the ravine again, his keen sense having detected the sound of voices inaudible to his companions. Then carefully gathering up the egg shells, so as to leave no traces, he took the bag with the rest of the eggs, and led the way onward at a rapid rate.The path grew more wild and rugged, and the roar increased as they ascended, till, after turning an angle in the winding gully, the sound came continuously with a deep-toned, thunderous bellow.“There, what did I tell you?” said Jem, as the top of the mountain was plainly in view, emitting steam, and about a mile distant. “That’s the chimney roaring.”“It’s a great waterfall somewhere on ahead,” replied Don; and a few yards farther on they came once more upon the edge of the river, which here ran foaming along at the bottom of what was a mere jagged crack stretching down from high up the mountain, and with precipitous walls, a couple of hundred feet down.Ngati seemed more satisfied after a while, and they sat down in a narrow valley they were ascending to finish the eggs, whose shells were thrown into the torrent.“I should like to know where he’s going to take us,” said Jem, all at once.“It does not matter, so long as it is into safety,” said Don. “For my part, I— Lie down, quick!”Jem obeyed, and bending low, Don seized the Maori’s arm, pointing the while down the way they had come at a couple of naked savages, leaping from stone to stone, spear armed, and each wearing the white-tipped tail feathers of a bird in his hair.Ngati saw the danger instantly, fell flat on his breast, and signing to his companions to follow, began to crawl in and out among the rocks and bushes, making for every point likely to afford shelter, while, in an agony of apprehension as to whether they had been seen, Don and Jem followed painfully,till the chief halted to reconnoitre and make some plan of escape.It was quite time, for the Maoris had either seen them or some of the traces they had left behind; and, carefully examining every foot of the narrow valley shelf along which they had climbed, were coming rapidly on.Don’s heart sank, for it seemed to him that they were in a trap. On his right was the wall-like side of the gully they ascended; on his left the sheer precipice down to the awful torrent; before them the sound of a mighty cataract; and behind the enemy, coming quickly and stealthily on.
Jem kept careful watch and ward as he stood leaning on his spear. He was very weary, and could not help feeling envious of those who were sleeping so well. But he heard no sound of pursuit, and after a time the wondrous beauty of the glen in which they had halted, with its rushing waters and green lacing ferns, had so composing an effect upon his spirits, that he began to take an interest in the flowers that hung here and there, while the song of a finch sounded pleasant and homelike. Then the delicious melody of the bell-bird fell upon his ear; and while he was listening to this, he became interested in a beautiful blackbird, which came and hopped about him.
Jem laughed, for his visitor had some white feathers just below the beak, and they suggested an idea to him as the bird bobbed and bowed and chattered.
“Well,” he said, “if I was naming birds, I should call you the parson, for you look like one, with that white thing about your neck.”
The bird looked at him knowingly, and flitted away. Directly after, as he turned his eyes in the direction where the uneaten fruit was lying, he saw that they had a visitor in the shape of one of the curious rails. The bird was already investigating the fruit, and after satisfying itself that the berries were of the kind that it could find for itself in the bush, it came running towards Jem, staring up at him, and as he extended the spear handle, instead of being frightened away, it pecked at the butt and then came nearer.
“Well, you are a rum little beggar,” said Jem, stroking the bird’s back with the end of the spear. “I should just like to have you at home to run in and out among the sugar-barrels. I’d— Hah!”
He turned round sharply, and levelled his spear at a great Maori, whose shadow had been cast across him, and who seemed to have sprung out of the bush.
“Why, I thought it was one o’ they cannibals,” said Jem, lowering the spear. “Good job it wasn’t dark, old chap, or I should have given you a dig. What d’yer want?”
“Sleep,” said Ngati laconically, and, taking Jem’s spear, he pointed to where Don was lying.
“Me? What, already? Lie down?”
“Sleep,” said Ngati again; and he patted Jem on the shoulder.
“All right, I’ll go. Didn’t think I’d been watching so long.” He nodded and walked away. “Wish he wouldn’t pat me on the back that way. It makes me feel suspicious. It’s just as if he wanted to feel if I was getting fat enough.”
Don was sleeping peacefully as Jem lay down and uttered a faint groan, for his left shoulder was very painful and stiff.
“Wonder how long wounds take to heal,” he said softly. “Cuts arn’t much more than a week. Heigh-ho-hum! I’m very tired, but I sha’n’t be able to go to—”
He was asleep almost as soon as he lay down, and directly after, as it seemed to him, he started into wakefulness, to find Ngati standing a few yards away, shading his eyes and gazing down the gully, and Don poking him with his spear.
“All right, Sally, I’ll get up. I— Oh, it’s you, Mas’ Don.”
“Quick, Jem! The Maoris are coming.”
Jem sprang to his feet and seized the spear offered to him, as Ngati came forward, brushed the ferns about so as to destroy the traces of their bivouac, and then, holding up his hand for silence, he stood listening.
A faint shout was heard, followed by another, nearer; and signing them to follow, the Maori went along up the gully, with the stream on their right.
It was arduous work, for the ground was rapidly rising; but they were forced to hurry along, for every time they halted, they could hear the shouts of their pursuers, who seemed to be coming on with a pertinacity that there was no shaking off.
It was hot in the extreme, but a crisp, cool air was blowing to refresh them, and, of its kind, there was plenty of food, Ngati cautiously picking and breaking in places where the disarrangement was not likely to be seen. Every now and then, too, they saw him make quite an eager dash on one side and return with eggs, which he carefully placed in the woven bag he had made.
This went on till he had nearly a couple of dozen, at which, as he trudged along, Jem kept casting longing eyes.
In spite of the danger and weariness, Don could not help admiring the beauty of the scene, as, from time to time, the gully opened out sufficiently for him to see that they were steadily rising toward a fine cone, which stood up high above a cluster of mountains, the silvery cloud that floated from its summit telling plainly of its volcanic nature.
“Tapu!tapu!” Ngati said, every time he saw Don gazing at the mountain; but it was not till long after that he comprehended the meaning of the chiefs words, that the place was “tapu,” or sacred, and that it would act as a refuge for them, could they reach it, as the ordinary Maoris would not dare to follow them there.
Higher up the valley, where the waters were dashing furiously down in many a cascade, Don began to realise that they were following the bed of a river, whose source was somewhere high up the mountain he kept on seeing from time to time, while, after several hours’ climbing, often over the most arduous, rocky ground, he saw that they were once more entering upon a volcanic district. Pillars of steam rose here and there, and all at once he started aside as a gurgling noise arose from beyond a patch of vivid green which covered the edges of a mud-pool, so hot that it was painful to the hand.
From time to time Ngati had stopped to listen, the shouts growing fainter each time, while, as they progressed, a heavy thunderous roar grew louder, died away, and grew louder again.
Don looked inquiringly at Jem.
“It’s the big chimney of that mountain drawing, Mas’ Don.”
“Nonsense!”
“Nay, that’s what it is; and what I say is this. It’s all wery well getting away from them cannibals, but don’t let’s let old Ngati—”
The chief looked sharply round.
“Yes, I’m a-talking about you, old chap. I say, you’re not to take us right up that mountain, and into a place where we shall tumble in.”
“Tapu!tapu!” said Ngati, nodding his head, and pointing toward the steaming cloud above the mountain.
“Oh, you aggrawating savage!” cried Jem.
Ngati took it as a compliment, and smiled. Then, pointing to a cluster of rocks where a jet of steam was being forced out violently, he led the way there, when they had to pass over a tiny stream of hot water, and a few yards farther on, they came to its source, a beautiful bright fount of the loveliest sapphire blue, with an edge that looked like a marble bath of a roseate tint, fringed every here and there with crystals of sulphur.
“Let’s have a bathe!” cried Jem eagerly. “Is there time?”
He stepped forward, and was about to plunge in his hand, when Ngati seized his shoulders and dragged him back.
“What yer doing that for?” cried Jem.
The Maori stepped forward, and made as if to dip in one of his feet, but snatched it back as if in pain. Then, smiling, he twisted some strands of grass into a band, fastened the end to the palm basket, and gently lowered it, full of eggs, into the sapphire depths, a jet of steam and a series of bubbles rising to the surface as the basket sank.
“Why, Jem,” said Don laughing, “you wanted to bathe in the big copper.”
“How was I to know that this was a foreign out-door kitchen?” replied Jem laughing.
“And the water’s boiling hot,” added Don. “You can see it bubbling just at this end.”
“Think o’ that now!” said Jem. “I say, what a big fire there must be somewhere down b’low. Strikes me, Mas’ Don, that when I makes my fortun’ and buys an estate I sha’n’t settle here.”
“No, Jem. ‘There’s no place like home.’”
“Well, home’s where you settle, arn’t it? But this won’t do for me. It’s dangerous to be safe.”
Meanwhile, Ngati was listening intently, but, save the hissing of steam, the gurgling of boiling water, and the softened roar that seemed now distant, now close at hand, there was nothing to be heard, so he signed to them to sit down and rest.
He set the example, and Don followed, to lie upon his back, restfully gazing up at the blue sky above, when Jem, who had been more particular about the choice of a place, slowly sat down, remained stationary for a few moments, and then sprang up, uttering a cry of pain.
“Why, that stone’s red hot!” he cried.
This was not the truth, but it was quite hot enough to make it a painful seat, and he chose another.
“Well, of all the rum places, Mas’ Don!”
He said no more on the subject, for just then Ngati rose, and carefully drew the bag of eggs from the boiling pool.
“And I called him a pig!” said Jem, self-reproachfully.
“No: no pig,” said Ngati, who caught the word.
“Well, I didn’t say there was, obstinit,” said Jem. “Here, give us an egg. Fruit and young wood’s all werry well; but there’s no spoons and no salt!”
In spite of these drawbacks, and amid a series of remarks on the convenience of cooking cauldrons all over the place, Jem made a hearty meal of new laid eggs, which they had just finished when Ngati looked up and seized his spear.
“What’s the matter?” cried Don listening.
Ngati pointed, and bent down, holding his hand to his ear.
“I can hear nothing,” said Jem.
Ngati pointed down the ravine again, his keen sense having detected the sound of voices inaudible to his companions. Then carefully gathering up the egg shells, so as to leave no traces, he took the bag with the rest of the eggs, and led the way onward at a rapid rate.
The path grew more wild and rugged, and the roar increased as they ascended, till, after turning an angle in the winding gully, the sound came continuously with a deep-toned, thunderous bellow.
“There, what did I tell you?” said Jem, as the top of the mountain was plainly in view, emitting steam, and about a mile distant. “That’s the chimney roaring.”
“It’s a great waterfall somewhere on ahead,” replied Don; and a few yards farther on they came once more upon the edge of the river, which here ran foaming along at the bottom of what was a mere jagged crack stretching down from high up the mountain, and with precipitous walls, a couple of hundred feet down.
Ngati seemed more satisfied after a while, and they sat down in a narrow valley they were ascending to finish the eggs, whose shells were thrown into the torrent.
“I should like to know where he’s going to take us,” said Jem, all at once.
“It does not matter, so long as it is into safety,” said Don. “For my part, I— Lie down, quick!”
Jem obeyed, and bending low, Don seized the Maori’s arm, pointing the while down the way they had come at a couple of naked savages, leaping from stone to stone, spear armed, and each wearing the white-tipped tail feathers of a bird in his hair.
Ngati saw the danger instantly, fell flat on his breast, and signing to his companions to follow, began to crawl in and out among the rocks and bushes, making for every point likely to afford shelter, while, in an agony of apprehension as to whether they had been seen, Don and Jem followed painfully,till the chief halted to reconnoitre and make some plan of escape.
It was quite time, for the Maoris had either seen them or some of the traces they had left behind; and, carefully examining every foot of the narrow valley shelf along which they had climbed, were coming rapidly on.
Don’s heart sank, for it seemed to him that they were in a trap. On his right was the wall-like side of the gully they ascended; on his left the sheer precipice down to the awful torrent; before them the sound of a mighty cataract; and behind the enemy, coming quickly and stealthily on.
Chapter Forty Seven.A Dangerous Phase.Ngati took all in at a glance, and signing to his companions to follow, he again lay down, creeping on for a short distance, trailing his spear, till they were well behind a pile of rocks.Here he gave a sharp look round at thecul de sacinto which they had been driven, and without hesitation crept to their left to where the rocky wall descended to the raging torrent.To him the place seemed to have no danger, as he passed over the edge and disappeared, but to Don it was like seeking death.“We can never do it, Jem,” he said.“Must, Mas’ Don. Go on.”Don looked at him wildly, and then in a fit of desperation he lowered himself over the edge, felt a pair of great hands grasp him by the loins, and, as he loosened his hold, he was dropped upon a rough ledge of rock, where he stood giddy and confused, with the torrent rushing furiously along beneath his feet, and in front, dimly-seen through a mist which rose from below, he caught a glimpse of a huge fall of water which came from high up, behind some projecting rocks, and disappeared below.The noise of falling water now increased, reverberating from the walls of rock; the mist came cool and wet against his face, and, hurried and startled, Don stood upon the wet, rocky shelf, holding on tightly, till Ngati laid his hand upon his shoulder, passed round him, and then, signing to him to follow, went on.Don’s first thought was of Jem, and looking behind him, there was his companion close to where he stood.Jem nodded to him to go on, just as a faint shout arose from somewhere above; and this seemed to nerve him to proceed over the slippery stones to where Ngati was passing round a corner, holding tightly by the rock, which he seemed to embrace.The way was dangerous in the extreme—a narrow ledge of the most rugged kind with a perpendicular moss-covered wall on the right, and on the left, space, with far below the foaming torrent, a glance at which seemed to produce vertigo.To stand still seemed to be worse than going on, and taking it to his comfort that what one man could do another might, Don reached the corner, but hesitated again, for there seemed to be no foot-hold whatever. But as he hesitated a great brown hand came round, ready to grasp his firmly; and with this help he made the venture, pressing himself close against the rock and creeping on.He was just in the most perilous part, well out over the torrent, when his left foot slipped, and a horrible chill ran through him, as he felt that he was falling into the chasm below to instant death. He held on with his right hand, and strove to press his breast against the rock, but the effort was vain; his right hand slipped from the crevice in which it was thrust, his right foot glided over the wet moss, and he slipped down, hung for a moment or two over the foaming waters, and then felt himself swung up and on to a broad ledge, upon which Ngati was standing.The Maori took it as a matter of course, signed to him to get up, and passed his hand round the rock once more to assist Jem.A curious sensation ran through Don as he watched for Jem’s coming, and trembling and unnerved, it seemed to him that watching another’s peril was more painful than suffering oneself.But in spite of his wounded shoulder Jem came round the point slowly and carefully, but with his brow rugged from the pain he suffered as Ngati held him firmly by his injured arm.As soon as he was in safety Jem passed his hand across his wet forehead and bit his lip, whilst once more signing to them to follow, Ngati led on.The way now was downward from rock to rock, and, terrible though it looked, the danger was less, for there was ample foot-hold and an abundance of bushy stems and fern fronds ready to their hands. The falls were again invisible, and they pressed on toward where another shoulder of the rocks jutted out, hiding the falling waters, whose noise was now so deafening that, had they wished to speak, a shout close to the ear would hardly have been heard.Big as the Maori was, he seemed to be as active as a goat, and picking the easiest ways over the mist-moistened stones, he led his companions lower and lower down the rock wall till, when they reached the next projection, and on passing round, it was to find themselves in what was little more than a huge rock pit, facing a mass of water which fell from quite two hundred feet above them into a vast cauldron of white foam, which chafed and roared and cast up clouds of spray as it whirled round and then rushed out of the narrow opening along the jagged gash by whose side they had come.The appearance of the vast body of water falling in one clear bound was bewildering, while the noise, as it reverberated from the rocky sides, produced a feeling of awe which made Don stand motionless till Ngati passed him, and sheltering his face behind a tuft of fern, peered round the corner they had just passed.He withdrew his head, looking fierce and determined, signed once more to Don to follow, and went on climbing carefully along the sides of the huge pit.“Where can he be going now?” thought Don, as he caught sight of a refulgent rainbow spanning the falls, and his eyes rested upon the brilliant, sun-illumined greens of fern, bush, and grass, with pendent mosses, all luxuriating in the heat and moisture of the wind-sheltered place.These were but momentary glances, for his whole thoughts seemed to be taken up by the struggle for life imperilled in a hundred ways.For still Ngati climbed on, turning every now and then to extend his hand or spear-shaft to Don when the place was unusually difficult; and by this means they went on and on till first they were on a level with the side of the fall, then partially shielded by it, and at last, when the Maori paused, unable to proceed farther either up or down, they were standing upon a projecting mass of rock with the great veil of water between them and the daylight, one vast curve of hundreds of tons of greenish water falling, ever falling, into the chasm below.It was dim with a greenish light where they stood, and the mist wetted them as they glanced sidewise along the way by which they had come, to see whether their enemies were in pursuit; but after watching for some time Ngati smiled and shook his head.“No,” he said, or seemed to say, for they could only judge by the movement of his lips. “No,” and he shook his head, and seating himself, gazed calmly and placidly at the water, as if there were no such thing as danger.In fact, to the great savage there was no such thing as peril in any of the objects of nature. Full of strength and calm matter-of-fact courage, climbing rocks or making his way into such a place as this was a very commonplace affair. His idea of danger was in the sight of enemies thirsting for his blood. Now that they were out of reach, and he believed that he had thrown them off the scent, he was perfectly content, and ready to smile at the perfection of the hiding-place he had sought.“Can you hear me, Jem?” said Don at last, after they had sat on the wet stones for some time, watching the falling water and listening to the thunderous roar.“Yes, if you shout quite close?”“Isn’t it an awful place?”“Ay, ’tis.”“Do you think we shall escape?”“I was thinking what a good job it was that we had managed a good feed.”“How are we to get away again?”“Dunno. P’r’aps there’s another way out.”“I hope so. It will be horrible to have to go back as we came.”Jem nodded, and began to nibble the dry skin at the side of his finger nails, looking up thoughtfully at the translucent arch.Then he nodded to Don as if he wished to speak, and Don put his ear close to Jem’s lips.“Think there’s much more on it to come down?”“More, Jem?”“Yes. ’Cause when it’s all run out, they’ll be able to see us.”“I should think it is always falling like this, Jem.”“Oh!”No more was said, and they sat patiently waiting for danger or freedom, whichever might be in store for them. Ngati held out his great fist from time to time to shake hands in a congratulatory way, and the hours glided on till it began to grow dark, and another horror assailed Don. It was evident that they must pass the night there in the cold and damp, for to attempt to escape in the dark would be madness, and how would it be if they dropped off to sleep and slipped?He shuddered at the thought, and sat in silence gazing at Ngati, who waited calmly till the shadows of evening had quite filled the chasm, when he rose, and it was evident that he did not consider escape in the darkness impossible, for, grasping Don’s arm, he uttered the one word “Come!” and led the way out from beneath the watery arch, to stand, as soon as they were quite clear, shading his eyes and gazing through the transparent gloom in search of their enemies.Apparently satisfied, he tapped both on the shoulder, and with a shudder of dread Don followed him along the side of the gulf.
Ngati took all in at a glance, and signing to his companions to follow, he again lay down, creeping on for a short distance, trailing his spear, till they were well behind a pile of rocks.
Here he gave a sharp look round at thecul de sacinto which they had been driven, and without hesitation crept to their left to where the rocky wall descended to the raging torrent.
To him the place seemed to have no danger, as he passed over the edge and disappeared, but to Don it was like seeking death.
“We can never do it, Jem,” he said.
“Must, Mas’ Don. Go on.”
Don looked at him wildly, and then in a fit of desperation he lowered himself over the edge, felt a pair of great hands grasp him by the loins, and, as he loosened his hold, he was dropped upon a rough ledge of rock, where he stood giddy and confused, with the torrent rushing furiously along beneath his feet, and in front, dimly-seen through a mist which rose from below, he caught a glimpse of a huge fall of water which came from high up, behind some projecting rocks, and disappeared below.
The noise of falling water now increased, reverberating from the walls of rock; the mist came cool and wet against his face, and, hurried and startled, Don stood upon the wet, rocky shelf, holding on tightly, till Ngati laid his hand upon his shoulder, passed round him, and then, signing to him to follow, went on.
Don’s first thought was of Jem, and looking behind him, there was his companion close to where he stood.
Jem nodded to him to go on, just as a faint shout arose from somewhere above; and this seemed to nerve him to proceed over the slippery stones to where Ngati was passing round a corner, holding tightly by the rock, which he seemed to embrace.
The way was dangerous in the extreme—a narrow ledge of the most rugged kind with a perpendicular moss-covered wall on the right, and on the left, space, with far below the foaming torrent, a glance at which seemed to produce vertigo.
To stand still seemed to be worse than going on, and taking it to his comfort that what one man could do another might, Don reached the corner, but hesitated again, for there seemed to be no foot-hold whatever. But as he hesitated a great brown hand came round, ready to grasp his firmly; and with this help he made the venture, pressing himself close against the rock and creeping on.
He was just in the most perilous part, well out over the torrent, when his left foot slipped, and a horrible chill ran through him, as he felt that he was falling into the chasm below to instant death. He held on with his right hand, and strove to press his breast against the rock, but the effort was vain; his right hand slipped from the crevice in which it was thrust, his right foot glided over the wet moss, and he slipped down, hung for a moment or two over the foaming waters, and then felt himself swung up and on to a broad ledge, upon which Ngati was standing.
The Maori took it as a matter of course, signed to him to get up, and passed his hand round the rock once more to assist Jem.
A curious sensation ran through Don as he watched for Jem’s coming, and trembling and unnerved, it seemed to him that watching another’s peril was more painful than suffering oneself.
But in spite of his wounded shoulder Jem came round the point slowly and carefully, but with his brow rugged from the pain he suffered as Ngati held him firmly by his injured arm.
As soon as he was in safety Jem passed his hand across his wet forehead and bit his lip, whilst once more signing to them to follow, Ngati led on.
The way now was downward from rock to rock, and, terrible though it looked, the danger was less, for there was ample foot-hold and an abundance of bushy stems and fern fronds ready to their hands. The falls were again invisible, and they pressed on toward where another shoulder of the rocks jutted out, hiding the falling waters, whose noise was now so deafening that, had they wished to speak, a shout close to the ear would hardly have been heard.
Big as the Maori was, he seemed to be as active as a goat, and picking the easiest ways over the mist-moistened stones, he led his companions lower and lower down the rock wall till, when they reached the next projection, and on passing round, it was to find themselves in what was little more than a huge rock pit, facing a mass of water which fell from quite two hundred feet above them into a vast cauldron of white foam, which chafed and roared and cast up clouds of spray as it whirled round and then rushed out of the narrow opening along the jagged gash by whose side they had come.
The appearance of the vast body of water falling in one clear bound was bewildering, while the noise, as it reverberated from the rocky sides, produced a feeling of awe which made Don stand motionless till Ngati passed him, and sheltering his face behind a tuft of fern, peered round the corner they had just passed.
He withdrew his head, looking fierce and determined, signed once more to Don to follow, and went on climbing carefully along the sides of the huge pit.
“Where can he be going now?” thought Don, as he caught sight of a refulgent rainbow spanning the falls, and his eyes rested upon the brilliant, sun-illumined greens of fern, bush, and grass, with pendent mosses, all luxuriating in the heat and moisture of the wind-sheltered place.
These were but momentary glances, for his whole thoughts seemed to be taken up by the struggle for life imperilled in a hundred ways.
For still Ngati climbed on, turning every now and then to extend his hand or spear-shaft to Don when the place was unusually difficult; and by this means they went on and on till first they were on a level with the side of the fall, then partially shielded by it, and at last, when the Maori paused, unable to proceed farther either up or down, they were standing upon a projecting mass of rock with the great veil of water between them and the daylight, one vast curve of hundreds of tons of greenish water falling, ever falling, into the chasm below.
It was dim with a greenish light where they stood, and the mist wetted them as they glanced sidewise along the way by which they had come, to see whether their enemies were in pursuit; but after watching for some time Ngati smiled and shook his head.
“No,” he said, or seemed to say, for they could only judge by the movement of his lips. “No,” and he shook his head, and seating himself, gazed calmly and placidly at the water, as if there were no such thing as danger.
In fact, to the great savage there was no such thing as peril in any of the objects of nature. Full of strength and calm matter-of-fact courage, climbing rocks or making his way into such a place as this was a very commonplace affair. His idea of danger was in the sight of enemies thirsting for his blood. Now that they were out of reach, and he believed that he had thrown them off the scent, he was perfectly content, and ready to smile at the perfection of the hiding-place he had sought.
“Can you hear me, Jem?” said Don at last, after they had sat on the wet stones for some time, watching the falling water and listening to the thunderous roar.
“Yes, if you shout quite close?”
“Isn’t it an awful place?”
“Ay, ’tis.”
“Do you think we shall escape?”
“I was thinking what a good job it was that we had managed a good feed.”
“How are we to get away again?”
“Dunno. P’r’aps there’s another way out.”
“I hope so. It will be horrible to have to go back as we came.”
Jem nodded, and began to nibble the dry skin at the side of his finger nails, looking up thoughtfully at the translucent arch.
Then he nodded to Don as if he wished to speak, and Don put his ear close to Jem’s lips.
“Think there’s much more on it to come down?”
“More, Jem?”
“Yes. ’Cause when it’s all run out, they’ll be able to see us.”
“I should think it is always falling like this, Jem.”
“Oh!”
No more was said, and they sat patiently waiting for danger or freedom, whichever might be in store for them. Ngati held out his great fist from time to time to shake hands in a congratulatory way, and the hours glided on till it began to grow dark, and another horror assailed Don. It was evident that they must pass the night there in the cold and damp, for to attempt to escape in the dark would be madness, and how would it be if they dropped off to sleep and slipped?
He shuddered at the thought, and sat in silence gazing at Ngati, who waited calmly till the shadows of evening had quite filled the chasm, when he rose, and it was evident that he did not consider escape in the darkness impossible, for, grasping Don’s arm, he uttered the one word “Come!” and led the way out from beneath the watery arch, to stand, as soon as they were quite clear, shading his eyes and gazing through the transparent gloom in search of their enemies.
Apparently satisfied, he tapped both on the shoulder, and with a shudder of dread Don followed him along the side of the gulf.
Chapter Forty Eight.Ngati’s Disguise.The return journey proved to be less perilous than the descent. The awful chaos of water was beneath them, but invisible, the darkness being so intense that everything was hidden but the mass of rock over and by which they climbed. In addition, the exertion and busy action after the long waiting seemed to keep them from thinking of anything but the task on which they were engaged. So that, to Don’s surprise, he found himself on the outer side of the dangerous corner, with the gulf left behind, and then clambering on and on by the side of the torrent chasm, past the other perilous parts, and before he could realise the fact, they were all together on the shelf, crouching down. Here Ngati slowly raised his head, to stand gazing over the edge at the level above, watching for a long time before stooping again, and uttering a low grunt.He mounted directly, bent down and extended a hand to each in turn, and then taking the lead, went cautiously onward to get out of the deep rift, and find a place that would enable them to reach the higher ground.It was still dark, but not so dense but that they could pick their way, and they passed on till they reached the hot spring, a little beyond which Ngati believed that they could strike up to the left, and cross the mountain to reach the plains beyond.Another half-hour was devoted to retracing their steps, when Don stopped short, his ear being the first to detect danger.They were passing the mud spring, whose gurgling had startled them in coming, and for a moment Don thought that a sound which he had heard came from the thin greyish-black mud; but it was repeated, and was evidently the laugh of some one not far away.Ngati pressed their arms; and signing to them to lie down and wait, he crept onward, to be absent about a quarter of an hour, when he returned to say a few words in his native tongue, and then squat down and bury his face in his hands, as if in thought.“They’re just in front, Mas’ Don. I keep hearing of ’em,” whispered Jem. “Sometimes I hear ’em one way, sometimes the other.”“That is through the echoes, Jem. How are we to manage now?”Ngati answered the question in silence, for, rising quickly, after being deep in thought, he silently picked some grass and moss, rolled it into a pear shape, and bound it on the end of his spear. Then holding the weapon up high, he bent his body in a peculiar way, and stalked off slowly, turning and gazing here and there, and from time to time lowering his spear, till, as he moved about in the shadowy light, he had all the appearance of some huge ostrich slowly feeding its way along the mountain slope.“Moa! Moa!” he whispered, as he returned. “Jemmeree moa; my pakeha moa.”“He wants us to imitate great birds, too, Jem,” said Don, eagerly. “Can you do that?”“Can I do it?” said Jem. “O’ course; you shall see.”Ngati seemed delighted that his plan was understood, and he rapidly fashioned rough balls to resemble birds’ heads for his companions’ spears, and made them turn up their trousers above the knee, when, but for their white appearance, they both looked bird-like. But this difficulty was got over by Ngati, who took it as a matter of course that they would not object, and rapidly smeared their hands, legs, and faces with the slimy mud from the volcanic pool.“Well, of all the nasty smells!” whispered Jem. “Oh, Mas’ Don, are you going to stand this? He has filled my eyes with mud.”“Hush, Jem!” whispered Don.“But shall we come across any hot baths by-and-by?”“Silence, Jem!”“All right, Mas’ Don, you’re master, but this is—oh, bad eggs!”Ngati held up his hand for silence, and then whispering the word “Moa” again, he imitated the movements of a gigantic bird, signing to them to do likewise.Don obeyed, and in spite of the peril they were in, could hardly help laughing, especially when Jem kept up an incessant growling, like that of some angry animal.Ngati was evidently satisfied, for he paused, and then pointing forward, strode slowly through the low bushes, with Don and Jem following and imitating his movements as nearly as they could.As they walked on they could hear the murmur of voices, and this sound increased as Ngati went slowly forward, bearing off to the left.It seemed to Don that they were going straight into danger, and his heart beat with excitement as the talking suddenly stopped, and there was a rustling sound, as if several men had sprung to their feet.But Ngati did not swerve from his course, going slowly on, and raising the spear from time to time, while a low excited whispering went on.“What will they do?” thought Don; “try to spear us, or surround and seize us?”The Maoris did neither. Ngati knew the dread his fellow-countrymen possessed for anything approaching the supernatural, and in the belief that they would be startled at the sight of the huge birds known only to them by tradition, he had boldly adopted the disguise—one possible only in the darkness; and so far his plan was successful.To have attempted to pass in their ordinary shape meant either capture or death; but there was the chance that they might succeed like this.They went on in the most deliberate way, both Don and Jem following in Ngati’s steps, but at every whisper on their right Don felt as if he must start off in a run; and over and over again he heard Jem utter a peculiar sigh.A harder test of their endurance it would have been difficult to find, as in momentary expectation of a rush, they stalked slowly on, till the whispering grew more distant, and finally died away.All at once Ngati paused to let them come up, and then pointed in the direction he intended to go, keeping up the imitation of the bird hour after hour, but not letting it interfere with their speed, till, feeling toward morning that they were safe, he once more halted, and was in the act of signing to his companions to cease their clumsy imitation, when a faint sound behind put him on his guard once more.The task had been in vain. They had passed the Maoris, and were making for the farther side of the mountains, but their enemies had been tracking them all the night, and the moment day broke, they would see through the cunning disguise, and dash upon them at once.They all knew this, and hastened on, as much to gain time as from any hope of escape, till just at daybreak, when, panting and exhausted, they were crossing a patch of brush, they became aware that the Maoris had overcome their alarm at the sight of the gigantic birds, and were coming on.
The return journey proved to be less perilous than the descent. The awful chaos of water was beneath them, but invisible, the darkness being so intense that everything was hidden but the mass of rock over and by which they climbed. In addition, the exertion and busy action after the long waiting seemed to keep them from thinking of anything but the task on which they were engaged. So that, to Don’s surprise, he found himself on the outer side of the dangerous corner, with the gulf left behind, and then clambering on and on by the side of the torrent chasm, past the other perilous parts, and before he could realise the fact, they were all together on the shelf, crouching down. Here Ngati slowly raised his head, to stand gazing over the edge at the level above, watching for a long time before stooping again, and uttering a low grunt.
He mounted directly, bent down and extended a hand to each in turn, and then taking the lead, went cautiously onward to get out of the deep rift, and find a place that would enable them to reach the higher ground.
It was still dark, but not so dense but that they could pick their way, and they passed on till they reached the hot spring, a little beyond which Ngati believed that they could strike up to the left, and cross the mountain to reach the plains beyond.
Another half-hour was devoted to retracing their steps, when Don stopped short, his ear being the first to detect danger.
They were passing the mud spring, whose gurgling had startled them in coming, and for a moment Don thought that a sound which he had heard came from the thin greyish-black mud; but it was repeated, and was evidently the laugh of some one not far away.
Ngati pressed their arms; and signing to them to lie down and wait, he crept onward, to be absent about a quarter of an hour, when he returned to say a few words in his native tongue, and then squat down and bury his face in his hands, as if in thought.
“They’re just in front, Mas’ Don. I keep hearing of ’em,” whispered Jem. “Sometimes I hear ’em one way, sometimes the other.”
“That is through the echoes, Jem. How are we to manage now?”
Ngati answered the question in silence, for, rising quickly, after being deep in thought, he silently picked some grass and moss, rolled it into a pear shape, and bound it on the end of his spear. Then holding the weapon up high, he bent his body in a peculiar way, and stalked off slowly, turning and gazing here and there, and from time to time lowering his spear, till, as he moved about in the shadowy light, he had all the appearance of some huge ostrich slowly feeding its way along the mountain slope.
“Moa! Moa!” he whispered, as he returned. “Jemmeree moa; my pakeha moa.”
“He wants us to imitate great birds, too, Jem,” said Don, eagerly. “Can you do that?”
“Can I do it?” said Jem. “O’ course; you shall see.”
Ngati seemed delighted that his plan was understood, and he rapidly fashioned rough balls to resemble birds’ heads for his companions’ spears, and made them turn up their trousers above the knee, when, but for their white appearance, they both looked bird-like. But this difficulty was got over by Ngati, who took it as a matter of course that they would not object, and rapidly smeared their hands, legs, and faces with the slimy mud from the volcanic pool.
“Well, of all the nasty smells!” whispered Jem. “Oh, Mas’ Don, are you going to stand this? He has filled my eyes with mud.”
“Hush, Jem!” whispered Don.
“But shall we come across any hot baths by-and-by?”
“Silence, Jem!”
“All right, Mas’ Don, you’re master, but this is—oh, bad eggs!”
Ngati held up his hand for silence, and then whispering the word “Moa” again, he imitated the movements of a gigantic bird, signing to them to do likewise.
Don obeyed, and in spite of the peril they were in, could hardly help laughing, especially when Jem kept up an incessant growling, like that of some angry animal.
Ngati was evidently satisfied, for he paused, and then pointing forward, strode slowly through the low bushes, with Don and Jem following and imitating his movements as nearly as they could.
As they walked on they could hear the murmur of voices, and this sound increased as Ngati went slowly forward, bearing off to the left.
It seemed to Don that they were going straight into danger, and his heart beat with excitement as the talking suddenly stopped, and there was a rustling sound, as if several men had sprung to their feet.
But Ngati did not swerve from his course, going slowly on, and raising the spear from time to time, while a low excited whispering went on.
“What will they do?” thought Don; “try to spear us, or surround and seize us?”
The Maoris did neither. Ngati knew the dread his fellow-countrymen possessed for anything approaching the supernatural, and in the belief that they would be startled at the sight of the huge birds known only to them by tradition, he had boldly adopted the disguise—one possible only in the darkness; and so far his plan was successful.
To have attempted to pass in their ordinary shape meant either capture or death; but there was the chance that they might succeed like this.
They went on in the most deliberate way, both Don and Jem following in Ngati’s steps, but at every whisper on their right Don felt as if he must start off in a run; and over and over again he heard Jem utter a peculiar sigh.
A harder test of their endurance it would have been difficult to find, as in momentary expectation of a rush, they stalked slowly on, till the whispering grew more distant, and finally died away.
All at once Ngati paused to let them come up, and then pointed in the direction he intended to go, keeping up the imitation of the bird hour after hour, but not letting it interfere with their speed, till, feeling toward morning that they were safe, he once more halted, and was in the act of signing to his companions to cease their clumsy imitation, when a faint sound behind put him on his guard once more.
The task had been in vain. They had passed the Maoris, and were making for the farther side of the mountains, but their enemies had been tracking them all the night, and the moment day broke, they would see through the cunning disguise, and dash upon them at once.
They all knew this, and hastened on, as much to gain time as from any hope of escape, till just at daybreak, when, panting and exhausted, they were crossing a patch of brush, they became aware that the Maoris had overcome their alarm at the sight of the gigantic birds, and were coming on.
Chapter Forty Nine.Unwelcome Acquaintances.“We shall have to turn and fight, Mas’ Don,” whispered Jem, as they were labouring through the bushes. “They’re close on to us. Here, why don’t Ngati stop?”There was a faint grey light beginning to steal in among the ferns as they struggled on, keeping up the imitation still, when a shout rose behind, and the Maoris made a rush to overtake them. At that moment from a dark patch of the bush in front three shots were fired in rapid succession.Don stopped short in the faint grey light, half stunned by the echoing reverberations of the reports which rolled away like thunder, while there was a rushing noise as of people forcing their way in rapid flight through the bush. But he hardly heeded this, his attention being taken up by the way in which Ngati dropped heavily to the ground, and just behind him Jem fell as if struck by some large stone.A terrible feeling of despair came over Don as, feeling himself between two parties of enemies, he obeyed the natural instinct which prompted him to concealment, and sank down among the ferns.What should he do? Run for his life, or stay to help his wounded companions, and share their fate?He stopped and listened to a peculiar sound which he knew was the forcing down of a wad in a gun-barrel. Then the strange hissing noise was continued, and he could tell by the sounds that three guns were being loaded.The natives, as far as he knew, had no guns, therefore these must be a party of sailors sent to shoot them down; and in the horror of being seen and made the mark for a bullet, Don was about to creep cautiously into a denser part of the bush, when he stopped short, asking himself whether he was in a dream.“All primed?” cried a hoarse voice, which made Don wonder whether he was back in his uncle’s yard at Bristol.“Ay, ay.”“Come on, then. I know I brought one of ’em down. Sha’n’t want no more meat for a month.”“Say, mate, what are they?”“I d’know. Noo Zealand turkeys, I s’pose.”“Who ever heard of turkey eight or nine foot high!” growled one of the approaching party.“Never mind who heard of ’em; we’ve seen ’em and shot ’em. Hallo! Where are they? Mine ought to be about here.”“More to the left, warn’t it, mate?”“Nay, it was just about here.”There was a loud rustling and heavy breathing as if men were searching here and there, and then some one spoke again—the man whose voice had startled Don.“I say, lads, you saw me bring that big one down?”“I saw you shoot at it, Mikey; but it don’t seem as if you had brought it down. They must ha’ ducked their heads, and gone off under the bushes.”“But they was too big for that.”“Nay, not they. Looked big in the mist, same as things allus do in a fog.”“I don’t care; I see that great bird quite plain, and I’m sure I hit him, and he fell somewhere—hah!”There was the sharpclick,clickof a gun being cocked, and a voice roared out,—“Here, you, Mike Bannock, don’t shoot me.”There was a loud rustling among the ferns, and then Jem shouted again.“Mas’ Don—Ngati! Why—hoi—oh! It’s all right!”The familiar voice—the name Mike Bannock, and Jem’s cheery, boyish call, made Don rise, wondering more than ever whether this was not a dream.The day was rapidly growing lighter, and after answering Jem’s hail, Don caught sight of him standing under a tree in company with three wild, gaunt-looking men.“Mas’ Don! Ahoy! Mas’ Don!”“I’m here, Jem, but mind the Maoris.”“I forgot them!” cried Jem. “Look out! There was a lot of savages arter us.”The three men darted behind trees, and stood with their guns presented in the direction of the supposed danger, Don and Jem also seeking cover and listening intently.“Were you hit, Jem?”“No, my lad; were you?”“No. Where’s Ngati?”“I’m afraid he has got it, my lad. He went down like a stone.”“But Mike! How came he here?”“I d’know, my lad. Hi! Stop! Don’t shoot. Friends.”Ngati, who came stalking up through the bush, spear in hand, had a narrow escape, for two guns were presented at him, and but for the energetic action of Don and Jem in striking them up, he must have been hit.“Oh, this is a friend, is it?” said Mike Bannock, as he gave a tug at his rough beard, and turned from one to the other. “Arn’t come arter me, then?”“No, not likely,” said Jem. “Had enough of you at home.”“Don’t you be sarcy,” growled Mike Bannock; “and lookye here, these gentlemen—friends of mine!”—he nodded sidewise at the two fierce-looking desperadoes at his side—“is very nice in their way, but they won’t stand no fooling. Lookye here. How was it you come?”“In a ship of war,” said Don.“Ho! Then where’s that ship o’ war now?”“I don’t know.”“No lies now,” said the fellow fiercely; “one o’ these here gentlemen knocked a man on the head once for telling lies.”“Ah,” growled one of the party, a short, evil-looking scoundrel, with a scar under his right eye.“Hear that?” cried Mike Bannock. “Now, then, where’s that there ship?”“I tell you I don’t know,” said Don sharply.“Whorrt!” shouted Mike, seizing Don by the throat; but the next moment a sharp blow from a spear handle made him loosen his hold, and Ngati stood between them, tall and threatening.“Here, come on, mates, if you don’t want to be took!” cried Mike, and his two companions raised the rusty old muskets they bore.“Put them down, will yer?” cried Jem. “Lookye here, Mike Bannock: Mas’ Don told you he didn’t know where the ship was, and he don’t. We’ve left her.”“Ah!” growled Mike, looking at him suspiciously. “Now, look here: don’t you try none of your games on me.”“Look here!” cried Jem fiercely; “if you give me any of your impudence, Mike Bannock, I’ll kick you out of the yard.”“Haw-haw!” laughed Mike. “This here arn’t Bristol, little Jemmy Wimble, and I’m a free gen’leman now.”“Yes, you look it,” said Don, contemptuously. “You scoundrel! How did you come here?”“Don’t call names, Mr Don Lavington, sir,” whined the ruffian. “How did I come here? Why, me and these here friends o’ mine are gentlemen on our travels. Arn’t us, mates.”“Ay: gen’lemen on our travels,” said the more evil-looking of the pair; “and look here, youngster, if you meets any one who asks after us, and whether you’ve seen us, mind you arn’t. Understand?”Don looked at him contemptuously, and half turned away.“Who was there after you?” said Mike Bannock, suspiciously.“Some of a tribe of Maoris,” replied Jem.“No one else?”“No.”“Ah, well, we arn’t afeared of them.” He patted the stock of his gun meaningly. “Soon make a tribe of them run home to their mothers. See them big birds as we shot at? And I say, young Lavington, what have you been doing to your face? Smudging it to keep off the flies?”Don coloured through the grey mud, and involuntarily clapped his hand to his face, for he had forgotten the rough disguise.“Never you mind about his face,” said Jem grinning. “What birds?”“Them great birds as we shot at,” said Mike. “I brought one of ’em down.”“You! You couldn’t hit a haystack,” said Jem. “You hit no bird.”“Ask my mates!” cried Mike eagerly. “Here you, Don Lavington, you usen’t to believe me when I told you ’bout big wild beasts and furrin lands. We see three birds just here, fourteen foot high.”“You always were a liar, Mike,” said Don contemptuously. “You did not see any bird fourteen feet high, because there are no such things. You didn’t see any birds at all.”“Well, of all—” began Mike, but he stopped short as he heard Don’s next words,—“Come, Jem! Come, Ngati! Let’s get on.”He stepped forward, but after a quick exchange of glances with his companions, Mike stood in his way.“No you don’t, young un; you stops along of us.”“What!” cried Don.“We’re three English gen’lemen travelling in a foreign country among strangers, and we’ve met you two. So we says, says we, folks here’s a bit too handy with their spears, so it’s as well for Englishmen when they meet to keep together, and that’s what we’re going to do.”“Indeed, we are not!” cried Don. “You go your way, and we’ll go ours.”“That’s our way,” said Mike quickly. “Eh, mates?”“Ay. That’s a true word.”“Then we’ll go the way you came,” cried Don.“Nay, you don’t; that’s our way, too.”“The country’s open, and we shall go which way we like,” cried Don.“Hear, hear, Mas’ Don!” cried Jem.“You hold your tongue, old barrel cooper!” cried Mike. “You’re going along of us; that’s what you’re going to do.”“That we are not!” cried Don.“Oh, yes, you are, so no nonsense. We’ve got powder and shot, and you’ve only got spears, and one gun’s equal to fifty spears.”“Look here, sir!” cried Don sternly, “I don’t want any words with such a man as you. Show me the way you want to take, and we’ll go another.”“This here’s the way,” said Mike menacingly. “This is the way we’re going, and you’ve got to come with us.”“Jem; Ngati; come on,” said Don.“Oh, then you mean to fight, do you?” growled Mike. “Come on then, mates. I think we can give ’em a lesson there.”“Mas’ Don,” whispered Jem, “it’s no good to fight again guns, and my shoulder’s a reg’lar dummy. Let’s give in civil, and go with them. We’ll get away first chance, and it do make us six again’ any savages who may come.”“Savages!” said Don angrily; “why, where would you get such savages as these? The Maoris are gentlemen compared to them.”“That’s my ’pinion again, Mas’ Don; but we’d better get on.”“But why do they want us with them?”“Strikes me they’re ’fraid we shall tell on them.”“Tell on them?”“Yes; it’s my belief as Master Mike’s been transported, and that he’s contrived to get away with these two.”“And we are to stop with three such men as these?”“Well, they arn’t the sort of chaps I should choose, Mas’ Don; but they say they’re gen’lemen, so we must make the best of it. All right, Mike, we’re coming.”“That’s your sort. Now, then, let’s find my big bird, and then I’m with you.”“Yah! There’s no big bird,” said Jem. “We was the birds, shamming so as to get away from the savages.”“Then you may think yourself precious lucky you weren’t shot. Come on.”Mike led the way, and Don and his companions followed, the two rough followers of Mike Bannock coming behind with their guns cocked.“Pleasant that, Mas’ Don,” said Jem. “Like being prisoners again. But they can’t shoot.”“Why did you say that, Jem?” said Don anxiously.“Because we’re going to make a run for it before long, eh, my pakeha?”“My pakeha,” said Ngati, laying his hand on Don’s shoulder, and he smiled and looked relieved, for the proceedings during the last half-hour had puzzled him.Don took the great fellow’s arm, feeling that in the Maori chief he had a true friend, and in this way they followed Mike Bannock round one of the shoulders of the mountain, towards where a jet of steam rose with a shrieking noise high up into the air.
“We shall have to turn and fight, Mas’ Don,” whispered Jem, as they were labouring through the bushes. “They’re close on to us. Here, why don’t Ngati stop?”
There was a faint grey light beginning to steal in among the ferns as they struggled on, keeping up the imitation still, when a shout rose behind, and the Maoris made a rush to overtake them. At that moment from a dark patch of the bush in front three shots were fired in rapid succession.
Don stopped short in the faint grey light, half stunned by the echoing reverberations of the reports which rolled away like thunder, while there was a rushing noise as of people forcing their way in rapid flight through the bush. But he hardly heeded this, his attention being taken up by the way in which Ngati dropped heavily to the ground, and just behind him Jem fell as if struck by some large stone.
A terrible feeling of despair came over Don as, feeling himself between two parties of enemies, he obeyed the natural instinct which prompted him to concealment, and sank down among the ferns.
What should he do? Run for his life, or stay to help his wounded companions, and share their fate?
He stopped and listened to a peculiar sound which he knew was the forcing down of a wad in a gun-barrel. Then the strange hissing noise was continued, and he could tell by the sounds that three guns were being loaded.
The natives, as far as he knew, had no guns, therefore these must be a party of sailors sent to shoot them down; and in the horror of being seen and made the mark for a bullet, Don was about to creep cautiously into a denser part of the bush, when he stopped short, asking himself whether he was in a dream.
“All primed?” cried a hoarse voice, which made Don wonder whether he was back in his uncle’s yard at Bristol.
“Ay, ay.”
“Come on, then. I know I brought one of ’em down. Sha’n’t want no more meat for a month.”
“Say, mate, what are they?”
“I d’know. Noo Zealand turkeys, I s’pose.”
“Who ever heard of turkey eight or nine foot high!” growled one of the approaching party.
“Never mind who heard of ’em; we’ve seen ’em and shot ’em. Hallo! Where are they? Mine ought to be about here.”
“More to the left, warn’t it, mate?”
“Nay, it was just about here.”
There was a loud rustling and heavy breathing as if men were searching here and there, and then some one spoke again—the man whose voice had startled Don.
“I say, lads, you saw me bring that big one down?”
“I saw you shoot at it, Mikey; but it don’t seem as if you had brought it down. They must ha’ ducked their heads, and gone off under the bushes.”
“But they was too big for that.”
“Nay, not they. Looked big in the mist, same as things allus do in a fog.”
“I don’t care; I see that great bird quite plain, and I’m sure I hit him, and he fell somewhere—hah!”
There was the sharpclick,clickof a gun being cocked, and a voice roared out,—
“Here, you, Mike Bannock, don’t shoot me.”
There was a loud rustling among the ferns, and then Jem shouted again.
“Mas’ Don—Ngati! Why—hoi—oh! It’s all right!”
The familiar voice—the name Mike Bannock, and Jem’s cheery, boyish call, made Don rise, wondering more than ever whether this was not a dream.
The day was rapidly growing lighter, and after answering Jem’s hail, Don caught sight of him standing under a tree in company with three wild, gaunt-looking men.
“Mas’ Don! Ahoy! Mas’ Don!”
“I’m here, Jem, but mind the Maoris.”
“I forgot them!” cried Jem. “Look out! There was a lot of savages arter us.”
The three men darted behind trees, and stood with their guns presented in the direction of the supposed danger, Don and Jem also seeking cover and listening intently.
“Were you hit, Jem?”
“No, my lad; were you?”
“No. Where’s Ngati?”
“I’m afraid he has got it, my lad. He went down like a stone.”
“But Mike! How came he here?”
“I d’know, my lad. Hi! Stop! Don’t shoot. Friends.”
Ngati, who came stalking up through the bush, spear in hand, had a narrow escape, for two guns were presented at him, and but for the energetic action of Don and Jem in striking them up, he must have been hit.
“Oh, this is a friend, is it?” said Mike Bannock, as he gave a tug at his rough beard, and turned from one to the other. “Arn’t come arter me, then?”
“No, not likely,” said Jem. “Had enough of you at home.”
“Don’t you be sarcy,” growled Mike Bannock; “and lookye here, these gentlemen—friends of mine!”—he nodded sidewise at the two fierce-looking desperadoes at his side—“is very nice in their way, but they won’t stand no fooling. Lookye here. How was it you come?”
“In a ship of war,” said Don.
“Ho! Then where’s that ship o’ war now?”
“I don’t know.”
“No lies now,” said the fellow fiercely; “one o’ these here gentlemen knocked a man on the head once for telling lies.”
“Ah,” growled one of the party, a short, evil-looking scoundrel, with a scar under his right eye.
“Hear that?” cried Mike Bannock. “Now, then, where’s that there ship?”
“I tell you I don’t know,” said Don sharply.
“Whorrt!” shouted Mike, seizing Don by the throat; but the next moment a sharp blow from a spear handle made him loosen his hold, and Ngati stood between them, tall and threatening.
“Here, come on, mates, if you don’t want to be took!” cried Mike, and his two companions raised the rusty old muskets they bore.
“Put them down, will yer?” cried Jem. “Lookye here, Mike Bannock: Mas’ Don told you he didn’t know where the ship was, and he don’t. We’ve left her.”
“Ah!” growled Mike, looking at him suspiciously. “Now, look here: don’t you try none of your games on me.”
“Look here!” cried Jem fiercely; “if you give me any of your impudence, Mike Bannock, I’ll kick you out of the yard.”
“Haw-haw!” laughed Mike. “This here arn’t Bristol, little Jemmy Wimble, and I’m a free gen’leman now.”
“Yes, you look it,” said Don, contemptuously. “You scoundrel! How did you come here?”
“Don’t call names, Mr Don Lavington, sir,” whined the ruffian. “How did I come here? Why, me and these here friends o’ mine are gentlemen on our travels. Arn’t us, mates.”
“Ay: gen’lemen on our travels,” said the more evil-looking of the pair; “and look here, youngster, if you meets any one who asks after us, and whether you’ve seen us, mind you arn’t. Understand?”
Don looked at him contemptuously, and half turned away.
“Who was there after you?” said Mike Bannock, suspiciously.
“Some of a tribe of Maoris,” replied Jem.
“No one else?”
“No.”
“Ah, well, we arn’t afeared of them.” He patted the stock of his gun meaningly. “Soon make a tribe of them run home to their mothers. See them big birds as we shot at? And I say, young Lavington, what have you been doing to your face? Smudging it to keep off the flies?”
Don coloured through the grey mud, and involuntarily clapped his hand to his face, for he had forgotten the rough disguise.
“Never you mind about his face,” said Jem grinning. “What birds?”
“Them great birds as we shot at,” said Mike. “I brought one of ’em down.”
“You! You couldn’t hit a haystack,” said Jem. “You hit no bird.”
“Ask my mates!” cried Mike eagerly. “Here you, Don Lavington, you usen’t to believe me when I told you ’bout big wild beasts and furrin lands. We see three birds just here, fourteen foot high.”
“You always were a liar, Mike,” said Don contemptuously. “You did not see any bird fourteen feet high, because there are no such things. You didn’t see any birds at all.”
“Well, of all—” began Mike, but he stopped short as he heard Don’s next words,—
“Come, Jem! Come, Ngati! Let’s get on.”
He stepped forward, but after a quick exchange of glances with his companions, Mike stood in his way.
“No you don’t, young un; you stops along of us.”
“What!” cried Don.
“We’re three English gen’lemen travelling in a foreign country among strangers, and we’ve met you two. So we says, says we, folks here’s a bit too handy with their spears, so it’s as well for Englishmen when they meet to keep together, and that’s what we’re going to do.”
“Indeed, we are not!” cried Don. “You go your way, and we’ll go ours.”
“That’s our way,” said Mike quickly. “Eh, mates?”
“Ay. That’s a true word.”
“Then we’ll go the way you came,” cried Don.
“Nay, you don’t; that’s our way, too.”
“The country’s open, and we shall go which way we like,” cried Don.
“Hear, hear, Mas’ Don!” cried Jem.
“You hold your tongue, old barrel cooper!” cried Mike. “You’re going along of us; that’s what you’re going to do.”
“That we are not!” cried Don.
“Oh, yes, you are, so no nonsense. We’ve got powder and shot, and you’ve only got spears, and one gun’s equal to fifty spears.”
“Look here, sir!” cried Don sternly, “I don’t want any words with such a man as you. Show me the way you want to take, and we’ll go another.”
“This here’s the way,” said Mike menacingly. “This is the way we’re going, and you’ve got to come with us.”
“Jem; Ngati; come on,” said Don.
“Oh, then you mean to fight, do you?” growled Mike. “Come on then, mates. I think we can give ’em a lesson there.”
“Mas’ Don,” whispered Jem, “it’s no good to fight again guns, and my shoulder’s a reg’lar dummy. Let’s give in civil, and go with them. We’ll get away first chance, and it do make us six again’ any savages who may come.”
“Savages!” said Don angrily; “why, where would you get such savages as these? The Maoris are gentlemen compared to them.”
“That’s my ’pinion again, Mas’ Don; but we’d better get on.”
“But why do they want us with them?”
“Strikes me they’re ’fraid we shall tell on them.”
“Tell on them?”
“Yes; it’s my belief as Master Mike’s been transported, and that he’s contrived to get away with these two.”
“And we are to stop with three such men as these?”
“Well, they arn’t the sort of chaps I should choose, Mas’ Don; but they say they’re gen’lemen, so we must make the best of it. All right, Mike, we’re coming.”
“That’s your sort. Now, then, let’s find my big bird, and then I’m with you.”
“Yah! There’s no big bird,” said Jem. “We was the birds, shamming so as to get away from the savages.”
“Then you may think yourself precious lucky you weren’t shot. Come on.”
Mike led the way, and Don and his companions followed, the two rough followers of Mike Bannock coming behind with their guns cocked.
“Pleasant that, Mas’ Don,” said Jem. “Like being prisoners again. But they can’t shoot.”
“Why did you say that, Jem?” said Don anxiously.
“Because we’re going to make a run for it before long, eh, my pakeha?”
“My pakeha,” said Ngati, laying his hand on Don’s shoulder, and he smiled and looked relieved, for the proceedings during the last half-hour had puzzled him.
Don took the great fellow’s arm, feeling that in the Maori chief he had a true friend, and in this way they followed Mike Bannock round one of the shoulders of the mountain, towards where a jet of steam rose with a shrieking noise high up into the air.