diff options
Diffstat (limited to '43620-h/43620-h.html')
| -rw-r--r-- | 43620-h/43620-h.html | 9810 |
1 files changed, 0 insertions, 9810 deletions
diff --git a/43620-h/43620-h.html b/43620-h/43620-h.html deleted file mode 100644 index 15a9fd8..0000000 --- a/43620-h/43620-h.html +++ /dev/null @@ -1,9810 +0,0 @@ -<?xml version='1.0' encoding='utf-8'?> -<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC '-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.1//EN' 'http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml11/DTD/xhtml11.dtd'> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> -<head> -<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8" /> -<meta name="generator" content="Docutils 0.8.1: http://docutils.sourceforge.net/" /> -<style type="text/css"> -/* -Project Gutenberg common docutils stylesheet. - -This stylesheet contains styles common to HTML and EPUB. Put styles -that are specific to HTML and EPUB into their relative stylesheets. - -:Author: Marcello Perathoner (webmaster@gutenberg.org) -:Copyright: This stylesheet has been placed in the public domain. - -This stylesheet is based on: - - :Author: David Goodger (goodger@python.org) - :Copyright: This stylesheet has been placed in the public domain. - - Default cascading style sheet for the HTML output of Docutils. - -*/ - -/* ADE 1.7.2 chokes on !important and throws all css out. */ - -/* FONTS */ - -.italics { font-style: italic } -.no-italics { font-style: normal } - -.bold { font-weight: bold } -.no-bold { font-weight: normal } - -.small-caps { } /* Epub needs italics */ -.gesperrt { } /* Epub needs italics */ -.antiqua { font-style: italic } /* what else can we do ? */ -.monospaced { font-family: monospace } - -.smaller { font-size: smaller } -.larger { font-size: larger } - -.xx-small { font-size: xx-small } -.x-small { font-size: x-small } -.small { font-size: small } -.medium { font-size: medium } -.large { font-size: large } -.x-large { font-size: x-large } -.xx-large { font-size: xx-large } - -.text-transform-uppercase { text-transform: uppercase } -.text-transform-lowercase { text-transform: lowercase } -.text-transform-none { text-transform: none } - -.red { color: red } -.green { color: green } -.blue { color: blue } -.yellow { color: yellow } -.white { color: white } -.gray { color: gray } -.black { color: black } - -/* ALIGN */ - -.left { text-align: left } -.justify { text-align: justify } -.center { text-align: center; text-indent: 0 } -.centerleft { text-align: center; text-indent: 0 } -.right { text-align: right; text-indent: 0 } - -/* LINE HEIGHT */ - -body { line-height: 1.5 } -p { margin: 0; - text-indent: 2em } - -/* PAGINATION */ - -.title, .subtitle { page-break-after: avoid } - -.container, .title, .subtitle, #pg-header - { page-break-inside: avoid } - -/* SECTIONS */ - -body { text-align: justify } - -p.pfirst, p.noindent { - text-indent: 0 -} - -.boxed { border: 1px solid black; padding: 1em } -.topic, .note { margin: 5% 0; border: 1px solid black; padding: 1em } -div.section { clear: both } - -div.line-block { margin: 1.5em 0 } /* same leading as p */ -div.line-block.inner { margin: 0 0 0 10% } -div.line { margin-left: 20%; text-indent: -20%; } -.line-block.noindent div.line { margin-left: 0; text-indent: 0; } - -hr.docutils { margin: 1.5em 40%; border: none; border-bottom: 1px solid black; } -div.transition { margin: 1.5em 0 } - -.vfill, .vspace { border: 0px solid white } - -.title { margin: 1.5em 0 } -.title.with-subtitle { margin-bottom: 0 } -.subtitle { margin: 1.5em 0 } - -/* header font style */ -/* http://dev.w3.org/csswg/css3-fonts/#propdef-font-size */ - -h1.title { font-size: 200%; } /* for book title only */ -h2.title, p.subtitle.level-1 { font-size: 150%; margin-top: 4.5em; margin-bottom: 2em } -h3.title, p.subtitle.level-2 { font-size: 120%; margin-top: 2.25em; margin-bottom: 1.25em } -h4.title, p.subtitle.level-3 { font-size: 100%; margin-top: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 1.5em; font-weight: bold; } -h5.title, p.subtitle.level-4 { font-size: 89%; margin-top: 1.87em; margin-bottom: 1.69em; font-style: italic; } -h6.title, p.subtitle.level-5 { font-size: 60%; margin-top: 3.5em; margin-bottom: 2.5em } - -/* title page */ - -h1.title, p.subtitle.level-1, -h2.title, p.subtitle.level-2 { text-align: center } - -#pg-header, -h1.document-title { margin: 10% 0 5% 0 } -p.document-subtitle { margin: 0 0 5% 0 } - -/* PG header and footer */ -#pg-machine-header { } -#pg-produced-by { } - -li.toc-entry { list-style-type: none } -ul.open li, ol.open li { margin-bottom: 1.5em } - -.attribution { margin-top: 1.5em } - -.example-rendered { - margin: 1em 5%; border: 1px dotted red; padding: 1em; background-color: #ffd } -.literal-block.example-source { - margin: 1em 5%; border: 1px dotted blue; padding: 1em; background-color: #eef } - -/* DROPCAPS */ - -/* BLOCKQUOTES */ - -blockquote { margin: 1.5em 10% } - -blockquote.epigraph { } - -blockquote.highlights { } - -div.local-contents { margin: 1.5em 10% } - -div.abstract { margin: 3em 10% } -div.image { margin: 1.5em 0 } -div.caption { margin: 1.5em 0 } -div.legend { margin: 1.5em 0 } - -.hidden { display: none } - -.invisible { visibility: hidden; color: white } /* white: mozilla print bug */ - -a.toc-backref { - text-decoration: none ; - color: black } - -dl.docutils dd { - margin-bottom: 0.5em } - -div.figure { margin-top: 3em; margin-bottom: 3em } - -img { max-width: 100% } - -div.footer, div.header { - clear: both; - font-size: smaller } - -div.sidebar { - margin: 0 0 0.5em 1em ; - border: medium outset ; - padding: 1em ; - background-color: #ffffee ; - width: 40% ; - float: right ; - clear: right } - -div.sidebar p.rubric { - font-family: sans-serif ; - font-size: medium } - -ol.simple, ul.simple { margin: 1.5em 0 } - -ol.toc-list, ul.toc-list { padding-left: 0 } -ol ol.toc-list, ul ul.toc-list { padding-left: 5% } - -ol.arabic { - list-style: decimal } - -ol.loweralpha { - list-style: lower-alpha } - -ol.upperalpha { - list-style: upper-alpha } - -ol.lowerroman { - list-style: lower-roman } - -ol.upperroman { - list-style: upper-roman } - -p.credits { - font-style: italic ; - font-size: smaller } - -p.label { - white-space: nowrap } - -p.rubric { - font-weight: bold ; - font-size: larger ; - color: maroon ; - text-align: center } - -p.sidebar-title { - font-family: sans-serif ; - font-weight: bold ; - font-size: larger } - -p.sidebar-subtitle { - font-family: sans-serif ; - font-weight: bold } - -p.topic-title, p.admonition-title { - font-weight: bold } - -pre.address { - margin-bottom: 0 ; - margin-top: 0 ; - font: inherit } - -.literal-block, .doctest-block { - margin-left: 2em ; - margin-right: 2em; } - -span.classifier { - font-family: sans-serif ; - font-style: oblique } - -span.classifier-delimiter { - font-family: sans-serif ; - font-weight: bold } - -span.interpreted { - font-family: sans-serif } - -span.option { - white-space: nowrap } - -span.pre { - white-space: pre } - -span.problematic { - color: red } - -span.section-subtitle { - /* font-size relative to parent (h1..h6 element) */ - font-size: 100% } - -table { margin-top: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 1.5em; border-spacing: 0 } -table.align-left, table.align-right { margin-top: 0 } - -table.table { border-collapse: collapse; } - -table.table.hrules-table thead { border: 1px solid black; border-width: 2px 0 0 } -table.table.hrules-table tbody { border: 1px solid black; border-width: 2px 0 } -table.table.hrules-rows tr { border: 1px solid black; border-width: 0 0 1px } -table.table.hrules-rows tr.last { border-width: 0 } -table.table.hrules-rows td, -table.table.hrules-rows th { padding: 1ex 1em; vertical-align: middle } - -table.table tr { border-width: 0 } -table.table td, -table.table th { padding: 0.5ex 1em } -table.table tr.first td { padding-top: 1ex } -table.table tr.last td { padding-bottom: 1ex } -table.table tr.first th { padding-top: 1ex } -table.table tr.last th { padding-bottom: 1ex } - - -table.citation { - border-left: solid 1px gray; - margin-left: 1px } - -table.docinfo { - margin: 3em 4em } - -table.docutils { } - -div.footnote-group { margin: 1em 0 } -table.footnote td.label { width: 2em; text-align: right; padding-left: 0 } - -table.docutils td, table.docutils th, -table.docinfo td, table.docinfo th { - padding: 0 0.5em; - vertical-align: top } - -table.docutils th.field-name, table.docinfo th.docinfo-name { - font-weight: bold ; - text-align: left ; - white-space: nowrap ; - padding-left: 0 } - -/* used to remove borders from tables and images */ -.borderless, table.borderless td, table.borderless th { - border: 0 } - -table.borderless td, table.borderless th { - /* Override padding for "table.docutils td" with "!important". - The right padding separates the table cells. */ - padding: 0 0.5em 0 0 } /* FIXME: was !important */ - -h1 tt.docutils, h2 tt.docutils, h3 tt.docutils, -h4 tt.docutils, h5 tt.docutils, h6 tt.docutils { - font-size: 100% } - -ul.auto-toc { - list-style-type: none } -</style> -<style type="text/css"> -/* -Project Gutenberg HTML docutils stylesheet. - -This stylesheet contains styles specific to HTML. -*/ - -/* FONTS */ - -/* em { font-style: normal } -strong { font-weight: normal } */ - -.small-caps { font-variant: small-caps } -.gesperrt { letter-spacing: 0.1em } - -/* ALIGN */ - -.align-left { clear: left; - float: left; - margin-right: 1em } - -.align-right { clear: right; - float: right; - margin-left: 1em } - -.align-center { margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto } - -div.shrinkwrap { display: table; } - -/* SECTIONS */ - -body { margin: 5% 10% 5% 10% } - -/* compact list items containing just one p */ -li p.pfirst { margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0 } - -.first { margin-top: 0 !important; - text-indent: 0 !important } -.last { margin-bottom: 0 !important } - -span.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.1em 0 0; line-height: 1 } -img.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.5em 0 0; max-width: 25% } -span.dropspan { font-variant: small-caps } - -.no-page-break { page-break-before: avoid !important } - -/* PAGINATION */ - -.pageno { position: absolute; right: 95%; font: medium sans-serif; text-indent: 0 } -.pageno:after { color: gray; content: '[' attr(title) ']' } -.lineno { position: absolute; left: 95%; font: medium sans-serif; text-indent: 0 } -.lineno:after { color: gray; content: '[' attr(title) ']' } -.toc-pageref { float: right } - -@media screen { - .coverpage, .frontispiece, .titlepage, .verso, .dedication, .plainpage - { margin: 10% 0; } - - div.clearpage, div.cleardoublepage - { margin: 10% 0; border: none; border-top: 1px solid gray; } - - .vfill { margin: 5% 10% } -} - -@media print { - div.clearpage { page-break-before: always; padding-top: 10% } - div.cleardoublepage { page-break-before: right; padding-top: 10% } - - .vfill { margin-top: 20% } - h2.title { margin-top: 20% } -} - -/* DIV */ -pre { font-family: monospace; font-size: 0.9em; white-space: pre-wrap } - -</style> -<title>DOING AND DARING</title> -<meta name="PG.Rights" content="Public Domain" /> -<meta name="PG.Title" content="Doing and Daring" /> -<meta name="PG.Producer" content="Al Haines" /> -<link rel="coverpage" href="images/img-cover.jpg" /> -<meta name="DC.Creator" content="Eleanor Stredder" /> -<meta name="DC.Created" content="1899" /> -<meta name="PG.Id" content="43620" /> -<meta name="PG.Released" content="2013-09-02" /> -<meta name="DC.Language" content="en" /> -<meta name="DC.Title" content="Doing and Daring A New Zealand Story" /> - -<link href="http://purl.org/dc/terms/" rel="schema.DCTERMS" /> -<link href="http://id.loc.gov/vocabulary/relators" rel="schema.MARCREL" /> -<meta content="Doing and Daring A New Zealand Story" name="DCTERMS.title" /> -<meta content="doing.rst" name="DCTERMS.source" /> -<meta content="en" scheme="DCTERMS.RFC4646" name="DCTERMS.language" /> -<meta content="2013-09-02T18:37:11.760313+00:00" scheme="DCTERMS.W3CDTF" name="DCTERMS.modified" /> -<meta content="Project Gutenberg" name="DCTERMS.publisher" /> -<meta content="Public Domain in the USA." name="DCTERMS.rights" /> -<link href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/43620" rel="DCTERMS.isFormatOf" /> -<meta content="Eleanor Stredder" name="DCTERMS.creator" /> -<meta content="2013-09-02" scheme="DCTERMS.W3CDTF" name="DCTERMS.created" /> -<meta content="width=device-width" name="viewport" /> -<meta content="EpubMaker 0.3.20a7 by Marcello Perathoner <webmaster@gutenberg.org>" name="generator" /> -</head> -<body> -<div class="document" id="doing-and-daring"> -<h1 class="center document-title level-1 pfirst title"><span class="x-large">DOING AND DARING</span></h1> - -<!-- this is the default PG-RST stylesheet --> -<!-- figure and image styles for non-image formats --> -<!-- default transition --> -<!-- default attribution --> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="clearpage"> -</div> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="align-None container language-en pgheader" id="pg-header" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the </span><a class="reference internal" href="#project-gutenberg-license">Project Gutenberg License</a><span> -included with this eBook or online at -</span><a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/license">http://www.gutenberg.org/license</a><span>.</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<div class="align-None container" id="pg-machine-header"> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>Title: Doing and Daring -<br /> A New Zealand Story -<br /> -<br />Author: Eleanor Stredder -<br /> -<br />Release Date: September 02, 2013 [EBook #43620] -<br /> -<br />Language: English -<br /> -<br />Character set encoding: UTF-8</span></p> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst" id="pg-start-line"><span>*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK </span><span>DOING AND DARING</span><span> ***</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst" id="pg-produced-by"><span>Produced by Al Haines.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span></span></p> -</div> -<div class="align-None container coverpage"> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 78%" id="figure-55"> -<img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="Cover" src="images/img-cover.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">Cover</span></div> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<div class="align-None container frontispiece"> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 74%" id="figure-56"> -<img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="THE OLD CHIEF. Page 81." src="images/img-front.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">THE OLD CHIEF. Page </span><a class="italics reference internal" href="#id1">81</a><span class="italics">.</span></div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<div class="align-None container titlepage"> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 76%" id="figure-57"> -<img class="align-center block center" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="Pre-title page" src="images/img-pre-title.jpg" /> -<div class="caption center centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">Pre-title page</span></div> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="x-large">DOING AND DARING</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="large">A New Zealand Story</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">BY</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="large">ELEANOR STREDDER</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><em class="italics small">Author of "Lost in the Wilds," "The Merchant's Children," -<br />"Jack and his Ostrich," -<br />etc.</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="center line"><span>"Who counts his brother's welfare</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="center line"><span>As sacred as his own,</span></div> -</div> -<div class="center line"><span>And loves, forgives, and pities,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="center line"><span>He serveth Me alone.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="center line"><span>I note each gracious purpose,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="center line"><span>Each kindly word and deed;</span></div> -</div> -<div class="center line"><span>Are ye not all my children!</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="center line"><span>Shall not the Father heed?"</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="center line"><span>WHITTIER.</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">T. NELSON AND SONS -<br /></span><em class="italics medium">London, Edinburgh, and New York</em><span class="medium"> -<br />1899</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">Contents</span></p> -<ol class="upperroman simple"> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#in-the-mountain-gorge">IN THE MOUNTAIN GORGE</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-whare-by-the-lake">THE WHARE BY THE LAKE</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#a-ride-through-the-bush">A RIDE THROUGH THE BUSH</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-new-home">THE NEW HOME</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#posting-a-letter">POSTING A LETTER</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#midnight-alarms">MIDNIGHT ALARMS</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-rain-of-mud">THE RAIN OF MUD</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#a-raging-sea">A RAGING SEA</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#nothing-to-eat">NOTHING TO EAT</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-maori-boy">THE MAORI BOY</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#widespread-desolation">WIDESPREAD DESOLATION</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#edwin-s-discovery">EDWIN'S DISCOVERY</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#feeding-the-hungry">FEEDING THE HUNGRY</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#rain-and-flood">RAIN AND FLOOD</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#who-has-been-here">WHO HAS BEEN HERE?</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#loss-and-suspicion">LOSS AND SUSPICION</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#edwin-in-danger">EDWIN IN DANGER</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#whero-to-the-rescue">WHERO TO THE RESCUE</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#met-at-last">MET AT LAST</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#just-in-time">JUST IN TIME</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-valley-farm">THE VALLEY FARM</a></p> -</li> -</ol> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="in-the-mountain-gorge"><span class="bold x-large">DOING AND DARING.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER I.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">IN THE MOUNTAIN GORGE.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>It was a glorious autumn day, when the New -Zealand bush was at its loveliest—as enchanting -as if it truly were the fairy ground of the Southern -Ocean; yet so unlike every European forest that -weariness seemed banished by its ceaseless variety. -Here the intertwining branches of majestic trees, with -leaves of varied hue, shut out the sky, and seemed to -roof the summer road which wound its devious track -towards the hills; there a rich fern-clad valley, -from which the murmuring sound of falling water -broke like music on the ear. Onwards still a little -farther, and an overgrown creek, gently wandering -between steep banks of rich dark fern and graceful -palm, came suddenly out of the greenwood into an -open space, bounded by a wall of rock, rent by a -darkling chasm, where the waters of the creek, -tumbling over boulder stone and fallen tree, broadened -to a rushing river. Along its verge the road -continued, a mere wheel-track cut in the rock, making -it a perilous crossing, as the driver of the weekly mail -knew full well.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His heavy, lumbering coach was making its way -towards it at that moment, floundering through the -two feet deep of mud which New Zealanders call a -bush road. The five poor horses could only walk, and -found that hard work, while the passengers had enough -to do to keep their seats.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Fortunately the coach was already lightened of a -part of its load, some fares with which it started -having reached their destination at the last -stopping-place. The seven remaining consisted of a rough, -jolly-looking, good-humoured fellow, bound for the -surveyors' camp among the hills; an old identity, as -New Zealanders call a colonist who has been so long -resident in the land of his adoption that he has -completely identified himself with it; and a newly-arrived -settler with his four children, journeying to take -possession of a government allotment in the Waikato -district.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With the first two passengers long familiarity with -the discomforts of bush travelling had grown to -indifference; but to Mr. Lee and his family the -experience was a trying one, as the coach swayed -heavily to this side and that, backwards and forwards, -up and down, like a boat on a rough sea. More than -once Mr. Lee's little girls were precipitated into the -arms of their </span><em class="italics">vis-à-vis</em><span>, or bumped backwards with -such violence a breakage seemed inevitable; but -which would suffer the most, the coach or its -passengers, was an open question.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Any English-made vehicle with springs must have -been smashed to pieces; but the New Zealand mail had -been constructed to suit the exigencies of the country. -With its frame of iron and sides of leather, it could -resist an amount of wear and tear perfectly incredible -to Mr. Lee. He sat with an arm round each of his -daughters, vainly trying to keep them erect in their -places. Their two brothers bobbed recklessly from -corner to corner, thinking nothing of the bruises in -their ever-increasing merriment when the edge of -Erne's broad-brimmed straw hat went dash into the -navvy's eyes, or Audrey's gray dust-cloak got entangled -in the buckles of the old identity's travelling-bag.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Audrey, with a due regard for the proprieties, began -a blushing apology.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My dear child," exclaimed the portly old gentleman, -"you speak as if I did not know you could not -help it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The words were scarcely uttered, when the whole -weight of his sixteen stone went crushing on to little -Cuthbert, who emerged from the jolly squeeze with a -battered hat and an altogether flattened appearance. -Then came an unexpected breathing-space. The -coachman stopped to leave a parcel at the roadman's -hut, nestling beneath the shelter of the rocks by the -entrance of the gorge.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>New Zealand roads are under the care of the -government, who station men at intervals all along -their route to keep them in order. The special duty -of this individual was to see that no other traffic -entered the gorge when the coach was passing through -it. Whilst he exchanged greetings with the coachman, -the poor passengers with one accord gave a stretch -and a yawn as they drew themselves into a more -comfortable position.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On again with renewed jolts between the towering -walls of rock, with a rush of water by their side -drowning the rumble of the wheels. The view was -grand beyond description, but no rail or fence protected -the edge of the stream.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Lee was leaning out of the window, watching -anxiously the narrow foot of road between them and -destruction, when, with a sudden lurch, over went the -coach to the other side.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A wheel off," groaned the old identity, as he -knocked heads with the navvy, and became painfully -conscious of a struggling heap of arms and legs -encumbering his feet.</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 73%" id="figure-58"> -<span id="an-awkward-plight"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="AN AWKWARD PLIGHT." src="images/img-012.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">AN AWKWARD PLIGHT.</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>Audrey clung to the door-handle, and felt herself -slowly elevating. Mr. Lee, with one arm resting on -the window-frame, contrived to hang on. As the -coach lodged against the wall of rock, he scrambled -out. Happily the window owned no glass, and the -leathern blind was up. The driver was flung from -his seat, and the horses were kicking. His first -thought was to seize the reins, for fear the frightened -five should drag them over the brink. The shaft-horse -was down, but as the driver tumbled to his -feet, he cut the harness to set the others free; earnestly -exhorting the passengers to keep where they were -until he could extricate his horses.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Edwin, the eldest boy, had already followed the -example of his father. He had wriggled himself out -of the window, and was dropping to the ground down -the back of the coach, which completely blocked the -narrow road.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His father and the coachman both shouted to him -to fetch the roadman to their help. It was not far -to the hut at the entrance of the gorge, and the boy, -who had been reckoned a first-rate scout on the -cricket-field, ran off with the speed of a hare. The -navvy's stentorian "coo"—the recognized call for -assistance—was echoing along the rocky wall as he -went. The roadman had heard it, and had left his -dinner to listen. He saw the panting boy, and came -to meet him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Coach upset," gasped Edwin.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Here, lad, take my post till I come back; let -nobody come this way. I'll be up with poor coachee in -no time. Anybody hurt?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But without waiting for a reply the man set off. -Edwin sank into the bed of fern that clustered round -the opening of the chasm, feeling as if all the breath -had been shaken out of him. There he sat looking -queer for an hour or more, hearing nothing, seeing -nothing but the dancing leaves, the swaying boughs, -the ripple of the waters. Only once a big brown rat -came out of the underwood and looked at him. The -absence of all animal life in the forest struck him: -even the birds sing only in the most retired recesses. -An ever-increasing army of sand-flies were doing their -utmost to drive him from his position. Unable at -last to endure their stings, he sprang up, trying to -rid himself of his tormentors by a shake and a dance, -when he perceived a solitary horseman coming towards -him, not by the coach-road, but straight across the -open glade.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The man was standing in his stirrups, and seemed -to guide his horse by a gentle shake of the rein. -On he rode straight as an arrow, making nothing -of the many impediments in his path. Edwin saw -him dash across the creek, plunge through the all but -impenetrable tangle of a wild flax-bush, whose tough -and fibrous leaves were nine feet long at least, leap -over a giant boulder some storm had hurled from the -rocks above, and rein in his steed with easy grace at -the door of the roadman's shanty. Then Edwin -noticed that the man, whose perfect command of his -horse had already won his boyish admiration, had a -big mouth and a dusky skin, that his cheeks were -furrowed with wavy lines encircling each other.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>IN THE MOUNTAIN GORGE. 15</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A living tattoo," thought Edwin. The sight of -those curiously drawn lines was enough to proclaim a -native.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Some Maori chief, the boy was inclined to believe -by his good English-made saddle. The tall black hat -he wore might have been imported from Bond Street -at the beginning of the season, barring the sea-bird's -feathers stuck upright in the band. His legs were -bare. A striped Austrian blanket was thrown over -one shoulder and carefully draped about him. A -snowy shirt sleeve was rolled back from the dusky arm -he had raised to attract Edwin's attention. A striped -silk scarf, which might have belonged to some -English lady, was loosely knotted round his neck, with -the ends flying behind him. A scarlet coat, which -had lost its sleeves, completed his grotesque appearance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Goo'-mornin'," he shouted. "Coach gone by yet?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The coach is upset on that narrow road," answered -Edwin, pointing to the ravine, "and no one can pass -this way."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Smashed?" asked the stranger in tolerable -English, brushing away the ever-ready tears of the -Maori as he sprang to the ground, expecting to find -the treasure he had commissioned the coachman to -purchase for him was already broken into a -thousand pieces. Then Edwin remembered the coachman -had left a parcel at the hut as they passed; and -they both went inside to look for it. They found it -laid on the bed at the back of the hut—a large, -flat parcel, two feet square.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The address was printed on it in letters half-an-inch -high: "Nga-Hepé, Rota Pah."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's me!" cried the stranger, the tears of -apprehension changing into bursts of joyous laughter as -he seized it lovingly, and seemed to consider for a -moment how he was to carry it away. A shadow -passed over his face; some sudden recollection changed -his purpose. He laid his hand persuasively on -Edwin's shoulder, saying, "Hepé too rich, Nga-Hepé -too rich; the rana will come. Hide it, keep it safe -till Nga-Hepé comes again to fetch it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Edwin explained why he was waiting there. He -had only scrambled out of the fallen coach to call the -roadman, and would soon be gone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You pakeha [white man] fresh from Ingarangi -land? you Lee?" exclaimed the Maori, taking a -letter from the breast-pocket of his sleeveless coat, as -Edwin's surprised "Yes" confirmed his conjecture.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The boy took the letter from him, and recognized -at once the bold black hand of a friend of his -father's whose house was to be their next halting-place. -The letter was addressed to Mr. Lee, to be -left in the care of the coachman.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meanwhile, the roadman had reached the scene of -the overturn just as the navvy had succeeded in -getting the door of the coach open. Audrey and -Effie were hoisted from the arms of one rough man -to another, and seated on a ledge of rock a few feet -from the ground, where Mr. Lee, who was still busy -with the horses, could see the torn gray cloak and -waving handkerchief hastening to assure him they -were unhurt.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Poor little Cuthbert was crying on the ground. -His nose was bleeding from a blow received from -one of the numerous packages which had flown out -from unseen corners in the suddenness of the shock.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Bowen," said the navvy, "now is your turn."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But to extricate the stout old gentleman, who had -somehow lamed himself in the general fall, was a far -more difficult matter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The driver, who scarcely expected to get through -a journey without some disaster, was a host in -himself. He got hold of the despairing traveller by one -arm, the roadman grasped the other, assuring him, -in contradiction to his many assertions, that his -climbing days were not all over; the navvy gave a -leg up from within, and in spite of slips and bruises -they had him seated on the bank at last, puffing and -panting from the exertion. "Now, old chap," added -the roadman, with rough hospitality, "take these poor -children back to my hut; and have a rest, and make -yourself at home with such tucker as you can find, -while we get the coach righted."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We will all come down and help you with the -tucker when our work is done," laughed the navvy, -as the three set to their task with a will, and began -to heave up the coach with cautious care. The many -ejaculatory remarks which reached the ears of -Audrey and Mr. Bowen filled them with dismay.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Have a care, or she'll be over into the water," -said one.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, she won't," retorted another; "but who on -earth can fix this wheel on again so that it will keep? -Look here, the iron has snapped underneath. What -is to be done?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We have not far to go," put in the coachman. -"I'll make it hold that distance, you'll see."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A wild-flax bush was never far to seek. A few -of its tough, fibrous leaves supplied him with -excellent rope of nature's own making.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Bowen watched the trio binding up the -splintered axle, and tying back the iron frame-work of -the coach, where it had snapped, with a rough and -ready skill which seemed to promise success. Still -he foresaw some hours would go over the attempt, -and even then it might end in failure.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was too much hurt to offer them any assistance, -but he called to Cuthbert to find him a stick -from the many bushes and trees springing out of -every crack and crevice in the rocky sides of the -gorge, that he might take the children to the -roadman's hut. They arrived just as Nga-Hepé was -shouting a "Goo'-mornin'" to Edwin. In fact, the -Maori had jumped on his horse, and was cantering -off, when Mr. Bowen stopped him with the question,—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Any of your people about here with a canoe? -I'll pay them well to row me through this gorge," he -added.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The coach is so broken," said Audrey aside to her -brother, "we are afraid they cannot mend it safely."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Never mind," returned Edwin cheerily; "we -cannot be far from Mr. Hirpington's. This man has -brought a letter from him. Where is father?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Taking care of the horses; and we cannot get at -him," she replied.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Bowen heard what they were saying, and -caught at the good news—not far from Hirpington's, -where the Lees were to stop. "How far?" he -turned to the Maori.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not an hour's ride from the Rota Pah, or lake -village, where the Maori lived." The quickest way -to reach the ford, he asserted, was to take a short -cut through the bush, as he had done.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Bowen thought he would rather by far trust -himself to native guidance than enter the coach -again. But there were no more horses to be had, -for the coachman's team was out of reach, as the -broken-down vehicle still blocked the path.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nga-Hepé promised, as soon as he got to his home, -to row down stream and fetch them all to Mr. Hirpington's -in his canoe. Meanwhile, Edwin had rushed -off to his father with the letter. It was to tell -Mr. Lee the heavy luggage he had sent on by packet had -been brought up from the coast all right.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You could get a ride behind Hirpington's -messenger," said the men to Edwin, "and beg him to -come to our help." The Maori readily assented.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They were soon ascending the hilly steep and -winding through a leafy labyrinth of shadowy arcades, -where ferns and creepers trailed their luxuriant -foliage over rotting tree trunks. Deeper and deeper -they went into the hoary, silent bush, where song of -bird or ring of axe is listened for in vain. All was -still, as if under a spell. Edwin looked up with -something akin to awe at the giant height of mossy -pines, or peered into secluded nooks where the -sun-shafts darted fitfully over vivid shades of glossy -green, revealing exquisite forms of unimagined ferns, -"wasting their sweetness on the desert air." Amid -his native fastnesses the Maori grew eloquent, -pointing out each conical hill, where his forefathers had -raised the wall and dug the ditch. Over every trace -of these ancient fortifications Maori tradition had its -fearsome story to repeat. Here was the awful -war-feast of the victor; there an unyielding handful -were cut to pieces by the foe.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>How Edwin listened, catching something of the -eager glow of his excited companion, looking every -inch—as he knew himself to be—the lord of the soil, -the last surviving son of the mighty Hepé, whose -name had struck terror from shore to shore.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As the Maori turned in his saddle, and darted -suspicious glances from side to side, it seemed to Edwin -some expectation of a lurking danger was rousing the -warrior spirit within him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They had gained the highest ridge of the wall of -rock, and before them gloomed a dark descent. Its -craggy sides were riven and disrupted, where cone -and chasm told the same startling story, that here, in -the forgotten long ago, the lava had poured its stream -of molten fire through rending rocks and heaving -craters. But now a maddened river was hissing and -boiling along the channels they had hollowed. It -was leaping, with fierce, impatient swoop, over a -blackened mass of downfallen rock, scooping for -itself a caldron, from which, with redoubled hiss and -roar, it darted headlong, rolling over on itself, and -then, as if in weariness, spreading and broadening to -the kiss of the sun, until it slept like a tranquil lake -in the heart of the hills. For the droughts of -summer had broadened the muddy reaches, which now -seemed to surround the giant boulders until they -almost spanned the junction.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Where the stream left the basin a mass of huge -logs chained together, forming what New Zealanders -call a "boom," was cast across it, waiting for the -winter floods to help them to start once more on -their downward swim to the broader waters of the -Waikato, of which this shrunken stream would then -become a tributary.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On the banks of the lake, or rota—to give it the -Maori name—Edwin looked down upon the -high-peaked roofs of a native village nestling behind its -protecting wall.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As the wind drove back the light vapoury cloudlets -which hovered over the huts and whares (as the -better class of Maori dwellings are styled), Edwin saw -a wooden bridge spanning the running ditch which -guarded the entrance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His ears were deafened by a strange sound, as if -hoarsely echoing fog-horns were answering each other -from the limestone cliffs, when a cart-load of burly -natives crossed their path. As the wheels rattled -over the primitive drawbridge, a noisy greeting was -shouted out to the advancing horseman—a greeting -which seemed comprised in a single word the English -boy instinctively construed "Beware." But the -warning, if it were a warning, ended in a hearty laugh, -which made itself heard above the shrill whistling -from the jets of steam, sputtering and spouting from -every fissure in the rocky path Nga-Hepé was -descending, until another blast from those mysterious -fog-horns drowned every other noise.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With a creepy sense of fear he would have been -loath to own, Edwin looked ahead for some sign of -the ford which was his destination; for he knew -that his father's friend, Mr. Hirpington, held the -onerous post of ford-master under the English -Government in that weird, wild land of wonder, the -hill-country of the north New Zealand isle.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-whare-by-the-lake"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER II.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE WHARE BY THE LAKE.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>A deep fellow-feeling for his wild, high-spirited -guide was growing in Edwin's mind as they -rode onward. Nga-Hepé glanced over his shoulder -more than once to satisfy himself as to the effect the -Maori's warning had had upon his young companion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Edwin returned the hasty inspection with a look -of careless coolness, as he said to himself, "Whatever -this means, I have nothing to do with it." Not a -word was spoken, but the flash of indignant scorn in -Nga-Hepé's brilliant eyes told Edwin that he was -setting it at defiance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On he spurred towards the weather-beaten walls, -which had braved so many a mountain gale.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A faint, curling column of steamy vapour was -rising from the hot waters which fed the moat, and -wafted towards them a most unpleasant smell of -sulphur, which Edwin was ready to denounce as -odious. To the Maori it was dear as native air: -better than the breath of sweet-brier and roses.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Beyond the bridge Edwin could see a pathway -made of shells, as white and glistening as if it were -a road of porcelain. It led to the central whare, the -council-hall of the tribe and the home of its chief. -Through the light haze of steam which veiled everything -Edwin could distinguish its carved front, and -the tall post beside it, ending in a kind of figure-head -with gaping mouth, and a blood-red tongue hanging -out of it like a weary dog's. This was the flagstaff. -The cart had stopped beside it, and its recent -occupants were now seated on the steps of the whare, -laughing over the big letters of a printed poster which -they were exhibiting to their companions.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nothing very alarming in that," thought Edwin, -as Nga-Hepé gave his bridle-rein a haughty shake -and entered the village. He threaded his way -between the huts of mat and reeds, and the wood-built -whares, each in its little garden. Here and there -great bunches of home-grown tobacco were drying -under a little roof of thatch; behind another hut a -dead pig was hanging; a little further on, a group -of naked children were tumbling about and bathing -in a steaming pool; beside another tent-shaped hut -there was a huge pile of potatoes, while a rush basket -of fish lay by many a whare door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In this grotesque and novel scene Edwin almost -forgot his errand, and half believed he had misunderstood -the hint of danger, as he watched the native -women cooking white-bait over a hole in the ground, -and saw the hot springs shooting up into the air, -hissing and boiling in so strange a fashion the -English boy was fairly dazed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Almost all the women were smoking, and many of -them managed to keep a baby riding on their backs -as they turned their fish or gossiped with their -neighbours. Edwin could not take his eyes off the -sputtering mud-holes doing duty as kitchen fires -until they drew near to the tattooed groups of burly -men waiting for their supper on the steps of the -central whare. Then many a dusky brow was lifted, -and more than one cautionary glance was bestowed -upon his companion, whilst others saw him pass them -with a scowl.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nga-Hepé met it with a laugh. A Maori scorns -to lose his temper, come what may. As he leaped -the steaming ditch and left the village by a gap in the -decaying wall, he turned to Edwin, observing, with a -pride which bordered on satisfaction: "The son of -Hepé is known by all men to be rich and powerful, -therefore the chief has spoken against him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Much you care for the chief," retorted Edwin.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am not of his tribe," answered Nga-Hepé. "I -come of the Ureweras, the noblest and purest of our -race. Our dead men rest upon the sacred hills where -the Maori chiefs lie buried. When a child of Hepé -dies," he went on, pointing to the mountain range, -"the thunder rolls and the lightning flashes along -those giant hills, that all men may know his hour -has come. No matter where the Hepé lay -concealed, men always knew when danger threatened -him. They always said such and such a chief is -dying, because the thunder and lightning are in -such a place. Look up! the sky is calm and still. -The hills are silent; Mount Tarawera rears its -threefold crest above them all in its own majestic -grandeur. Well, I know no real danger menaces -me to-night."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I trust you are right, Nga-Hepé, but—" began -Edwin quickly. The Maori turned his head away; -he could admit no "buts," and the English boy made -vain endeavours to argue the question.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A noisy, boisterous jabbering arose from the village -as the crowd outside the grand whare hailed the -decision of the elders holding council within. Dogs, -pigs, and boys added their voices to the general -acclamation, and drowned Edwin's so completely he -gave up in despair; and after all he thought, "Can -any one wonder at Nga-Hepé clinging to the old -superstitions of his race? In the wild grandeur of a -spot like this it seems in keeping."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So he said no more. They crossed the broken -ground. Before them gleamed the waters of the lake, -upon whose bank Nga-Hepé's house was standing—the -old ancestral whare, the dwelling-place of the -Hepés generation after generation. Its well-thatched -roof was higher than any of the roofs in the pah, -and more pointed. The wood of which this whare -was built was carved into idol figures and grinning -monsters, now black and shining with excessive age.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The garden around it was better cultivated, and -the ample store of roots and grain in the smaller -whare behind it told of the wealth of its owner. -Horses and pigs were snorting and squealing beneath -the hoary trees, overshadowing the mud-hole and the -geyser spring, by which the Maori loves to make his -home. The canoe was riding on the lake, the lovely -lake, as clear and blue as the sky it mirrored.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The sight of it recalled Edwin to his purpose, and -he once more questioned Nga-Hepé as to the whereabouts -of the ford.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Enter and eat," said the Maori, alighting at his -low-browed door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The gable end of the roof projected over it like a -porch, and Edwin paused under its shadow to take -in the unfamiliar surroundings. Beneath the broad -eaves huge bundles of native flax and tobacco were -drying. In the centre of the long room within there -was a blazing fire of crackling wood. But its cheerful -welcome seemed to contend with a sense of desertion -which pervaded the place.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nga-Hepé called in vain for his accustomed attendant -to take his horse. No one answered his summons. -He shouted; no answer. The wooden walls of the -neighbouring pah faintly echoed back his words. All -his men were gone. He muttered something in his own -tongue, which Edwin could not understand, as he led -the way into the long room. In so grand a whare -this room was divided into separate stalls, like a -well-built stable. An abundance of native mats strewed -the floor.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Maori's eyes fell upon the corner where his -greenstone club, the treasured heirloom of many -generations, leaned against an English rifle, and on the -boar's tusks fixed in the wall at intervals, where his -spears and fishing-rods were ranged in order. By -their side hung a curious medley of English apparel. -The sweeping feathers of a broad felt hat drooped -above a gaudy table-cloth, which by its many creases -seemed to have done duty on the person of its owner. -Edwin's merriment was excited by the number of -scent-bottles, the beautiful cut-glass carafe, and many -other expensive articles suspended about the room—all -bearing a silent testimony to the wealth of which -Nga-Hepé had spoken. Two happy-looking children, -each wearing a brightly-coloured handkerchief folded -across their tiny shoulders in true Maori fashion, -were grinding at a barrel-organ. One fat little knee -served as a pillow for a tangle of rough black hair, -which a closer inspection showed him was the head -of a sleeping boy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nga-Hepé's wife, wearing a cloak of flowered silk, -with a baby slung in a shawl at her back, and a short -pipe in her mouth, met him with soft words of -pleading remonstrance which Edwin could not understand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her husband patted her fondly on the arm, touched -the baby's laughing lips, and seated himself on the -floor by the fire, inviting Edwin to join him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The sleeping boy gave a great yawn, and starting -to his feet, seemed to add his entreaties to his mother's. -He held a book in his hand—a geography, with -coloured maps—which he had evidently been studying; -but he dropped it in despair, as his father only -called for his supper.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Help us to persuade him," he whispered to Edwin -in English; "he may listen to a pakeha. Tell him -it is better to go away."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why?" asked Edwin.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why!" repeated the boy excitedly; "because the -chief is threatening him with a muru. He will send -a band of men to eat up all the food, and carry off -everything we have that can be carried away; but -they will only come when father is at home."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A bag of talk!" interrupted Nga-Hepé. "Shall it -be said the son of the warrior sneaks off and hides -himself at the first threat?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But," urged Edwin, "you promised to row back -for Mr. Bowen."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, and I will. I will eat, and then I go," -persisted Nga-Hepé, as his wife stamped impatiently.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Two or three women ran in with the supper which -they had been cooking in a smaller whare in the -background. They placed the large dishes on the -floor: native potatoes—more resembling yams in -their sweetness than their English namesakes—boiled -thistles, and the ancient Maori delicacy, salted shark.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They all began to eat, taking the potatoes in their -hands, when a wild cry rang through the air—a cry -to strike terror to any heart. It was the first note -of the Maori war-song, caught up and repeated by a -dozen powerful voices, until it became a deafening yell. -Hepé's wife tore frantically at her long dark hair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Maori rose to his feet with an inborn dignity, -and grasped the greenstone club, taking pride in the -prestige of such a punishment. Turning to Edwin he -said: "When the ferns are on fire the sparks fall far -and wide. Take the horse—it is yours; I give it to -you. It is the last gift I shall have it in my power -to make for many a day to come. There lies your -path through the bush; once on the open road again -the ford-house will be in sight, and Whero shall be -your guide. Tell the old pakeha the canoe is mine -no more."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The woman snatched up the children and rushed -away with them, uttering a wailing cry.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Edwin knew he had no alternative, but he did not -like the feeling of running away in the moment of -peril.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Can't I help you, though I am only a boy?" he -asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," answered Hepé's wife, as she almost pushed -him out of the door in her desperation; "take this."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She lifted up a heavy bag from the corner of the -whare, and put it into his hands. Whero had untied -the horse, and was pointing to the distant pah, from -which the yells proceeded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A band of armed men, brandishing clubs and spears, -were leading off the war-dance. Their numbers were -swelling. The word of fear went round from lip to -lip, "The tana is coming!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The tana is the band of armed men sent by the -chief to carry out this act of savage despotism. They -had been on the watch for Nga-Hepé. They had -seen him riding through the pah. All hope of getting -him out of the way was over.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Father and mother joined in the last despairing -desire to send off Whero, their little lord and -first-born, of whom the Maoris make so much, and treat -with so much deference. They never dreamed of -ordering him to go. A freeborn Maori brooks no control -even in childhood. But their earnest entreaties -prevailed. He got up before Edwin. He would not -ride behind him, not he, to save his life. He yielded -for the sake of the horse he loved so well. He -thought he might get it back from the young pakeha, -but who could wrest it from the grasp of the tana? -Perhaps Nga-Hepé shared the hope. The noble horse -was dear to father and son.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I am so sorry for you!" said Edwin as he -guessed the truth; "and so will father be, I'm sure." He -stopped in sudden silence as another terrific yell -echoed back by lake and tree.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He felt the good horse quiver as they plunged into -the safe shelter of the bush, leaving Hepé leaning on -his club on the threshold of his whare.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Edwin's first care now was to get to Mr. Hirpington's -as fast as he could. But his desire to press on -met with no sympathy from his companion, who -knew not how to leave the spot until his father's fate -was decided. He had backed the horse into the -darkest shadow of the trees, and here he wanted to -lie in ambush and watch; for the advancing warriors -were surrounding the devoted whare, and the -shrieking women were flying from it into the bush.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>How could Edwin stop him when Whero would turn -back to meet his mother? The rendezvous of the -fugitives was a tall karaka tree—a forest king -rearing its giant stem full seventy feet above the mossy -turf. A climbing plant, ablaze with scarlet flowers, -had wreathed itself among the branches, and hung in -long festoons which swept the ground. The panting -women flung themselves down, and dropped their -heavy burdens at its root; for all had snatched up -the nearest thing which came to hand as they ran out. -One had wrapped the child she carried in a -fishing-net; another drew from beneath the folds of the -English counterpane she was wearing the long knife -that had been lying on the floor by the dish of shark; -while Whero's mother, shaking her wealth of -uncombed hair about her like a natural veil, concealed -in her arms a ponderous axe.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The big black horse gave a loving whinny as he -recognized their footsteps, and turning of his own -accord, cantered up to them as they began to raise -the death-wail—doing tangi as they call it—over the -outcast children crying for the untasted supper, on -which the invaders were feasting.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"May it choke the pigs!" muttered Whero, raising -himself in the stirrups and catching at the nearest -bough, he gave it a shake, which sent a shower of -the karaka nuts tumbling down upon the little black -heads and fighting fists. The women stopped their -wail to crack and eat. The horse bent down his -head to claim a share, and the children scrambled -to their feet to scoop the sweet kernel from the -opened shell. The hungry boys were forced to -join them, and Edwin found to his surprise that leaf -and nut alike were good and wholesome food. They -ate in silence and fear, as the wild woods rang -with the shouts of triumph and derision as the -rough work of confiscation went forward in the whare.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With the much-needed food Edwin's energy was -returning. He gave back the bag to Whero's mother, -assuring her if her son would only guide him to the -road he could find his own way to the ford.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let us all go farther into the bush," said the -oldest woman of the group, "before the tana comes out. -The bush they cannot take from us, and all we need -the most the bush will provide."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The weight of the bag he had carried convinced -Edwin it was full of money.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Whero's mother was looking about for a place -where she could hide it; so they wandered on until -the sun shone brightly between the opening trees, -and they stepped out upon an unexpected clearing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The road! the road!" cried Whero, pointing to -the gleam of water in the distance, and the dark roof -of the house by the ford, half buried in the white -blossom of the acacia grove beside it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All right!" exclaimed Edwin joyfully. "You -need go no farther."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He took the bridle from Whero, and turned the -horse's head towards the ford, loath to say farewell -to his strange companions. As he went at a steady -trot along the road, he could not keep from looking -back. He saw they were burying the bag of treasure -where two white pines grew near together, and the -wild strawberries about their roots were ripening in -the sun. The road, a mere clearing in the forest, lay -straight before him. As Nga-Hepé had said, an -hour's ride brought him to Mr. Hirpington's door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The house was large and low, built entirely of -corrugated iron. It was the only spot of ugliness in the -whole landscape. A grassy bank higher than Edwin's -head surrounded the home enclosure, and lovely -white-winged pigeons were hovering over the yellow -gorse, which formed an impenetrable wall on the top -of the bank. A gate stood open, and by its side some -rough steps cut in the rock led down to the riverbed, -through a tangle of reeds and bulrushes. Like -most New Zealand rivers, the bed was ten times -wider than the stream, and the stretch of mud on -either side increased the difficulties of the crossing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Edwin rode up to the gate and dismounted, drew -the bridle through the ring in the post, and entered a -delightful garden, where peach and almond and cherry -trees brought back a thought of home. The ground -was terraced towards the house, which was built on a -jutting rock, to be out of the reach of winter floods. -Honeysuckle and fuchsia, which Edwin had only -known in their dwarfed condition in England, rose -before him as stately trees, tall as an English elm, -eclipsing all the white and gold of the acacias and -laburnums, which sheltered the end of the house.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The owner, spade in hand, was at work among his -flower-beds. His dress was as rough as the navvy's, -and Edwin, who had studied Mr. Hirpington's -photograph so often, asked himself if this man, so brown -and brawny and broad, could be his father's friend?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Please, I'm Edwin Lee," said the boy bluntly. -"Is Mr. Hirpington at home?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The spade was thrown aside, and a hand all -smeared with garden mould grasped his own, and -a genial voice exclaimed, "Yes, Hirpington is here, -bidding you heartily welcome! But how came you, -my lad, to forerun the coach?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then Edwin poured into sympathetic ears the tale -of their disaster, adding earnestly, "I thought I had -better come on with your messenger, and tell you -what had happened."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Coach with a wheel off in the gorge!" shouted -Mr. Hirpington to a chum in-doors, and Edwin knew -he had found the friend in need, whose value no one -can estimate like a colonist.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Before Edwin could explain why Nga-Hepé had -failed in his promise to return with his canoe, -Mr. Hirpington was down the boating-stairs, loosening -his own "tub," as he called it, from its moorings. -To the Maori's peril he lent but half an ear. "No -use our interfering there," he said. "I'm off to your -father."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A head appeared at a window overlooking the bed -of rushes, and two men came out of the house door, -and assisted him to push the boat into the water. -The window above was thrown open, and a hastily-filled -basket was handed down. Then a kind, -motherly voice told Edwin to come in-doors.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The room he entered was large and faultlessly clean, -serving the threefold purpose of kitchen, dining-room, -and office. The desk by the window, the gun in the -corner, the rows of plates above the dresser, scarcely -seemed to encroach on each other, or make the long -dining-table look ashamed of their company.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Hirpington, who was expecting the "coach to -sleep" under her roof that night, was preparing her -meat for the spit at the other end of the room. The -pipes and newspaper, which had been hastily thrown -down at the sound of Mr. Hirpington's summons, -showed Edwin where the men had been resting after -their day's work. They were, as he guessed, employés -on the road, which was always requiring mending -and clearing, while Mr. Hirpington was their -superintendent, as well as ford-keeper.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His wife, in a homely cotton dress of her own -making, turned to Edwin with the well-bred manner -of an English lady and the hearty hospitality of a -colonist.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not a word about being in the way, my dear; -the trouble is a pleasure. We shall have you all -here, a merry party, before long. There are worse -disasters than this at sea." She smiled as she -delayed the roast, and placed a chop on the grill for -Edwin's benefit.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The cozy sense of comfort which stole over him -was so delightful, as he stretched himself on the sofa -on the other side of the fire, it made him think the -more of the homeless wanderers in the bush, and he -began to describe to Mrs. Hirpington the strange -scene he had witnessed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A band of armed men marching out of the village -filled her with apprehension. She ran to the window -overlooking the river to see if the boat had pushed -off, and called to the men remaining behind—for the -ford was never left—to know if the other roadmen -had yet come in.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They are late," she said. "They must have -heard the coachman's 'coo,' and are before us with -their help. They have gone down to the gorge. -You may rest easy about your father."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But she could not rest easy. She looked to the -loading of the guns, put the bar in the gate herself, -and held a long conference with Dunter over the -alarming intelligence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the man knew more of Maori ways than she -did, and understood it better. "I'll not be saying," -he answered, "but what it will be wise in us to keep -good watch until they have all dispersed. Still, with -Hepé's goods to carry off and divide, they will not be -thinking of interfering with us. Maybe you'll have -Nga-Hepé's folk begging shelter as the night draws on."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I hope not," she retorted quickly. "Give them -anything they ask for, but don't be tempted to open -the gate. Tell them the coach is coming, and the -house is full."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A blaze of fire far down the river called everybody -into the garden. Some one was signalling. But -Dunter was afraid to leave Mrs. Hirpington, and -Mrs. Hirpington was equally afraid to be left.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A great horror fell upon Edwin. "Can it be -father?" he exclaimed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Dunter grasped the twisted trunk of the giant -honeysuckle, and swung himself on to the roof of the -house to reconnoitre. Edwin was up beside him in -a moment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, it is nothing," laughed the man—"nothing -but some chance traveller waiting by the roadside for -the expected coach, and, growing impatient, has set -a light to the dry branches of a ti tree to make sure -of stopping the coach."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the wind had carried the flames beyond the -tree, and the fire was spreading in the bush.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It will burn itself out," said Dunter carelessly; -"no harm in that."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But surely the coach was coming!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Edwin looked earnestly along the line which the -bush road had made through the depths of the forest. -He could see clearly to a considerable distance. The -fire was not far from the two white pines where he -had parted from his dusky companions, and soon he -saw them rushing into the open to escape from the -burning fern. On they ran towards the ford, scared -by the advancing fire. How was Mrs. Hirpington to -refuse to open her gates and take them in? Women -and children—it could not be done.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Edwin was pleading at her elbow.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I saw it all, Mrs. Hirpington; I know how it -happened. Nga-Hepé gave me his horse, that I might -escape in safety to you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, well," she answered, resigning herself to the -inevitable. "If you will go out and meet them and -bring them here, Dunter shall clear the barn to -receive them."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Edwin slid down the rough stem of the -honeysuckle and let himself out, and ran along the road -for about half-a-mile, waving his hat and calling to -the fugitives to come on, to come to the ford.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The gray-haired woman in the counterpane, now -begrimed with mud and smoke, was the first to -meet him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She shouted back joyfully, "The good wahini -[woman] at the ford has sent to fetch us. She hear -the cry of the child. Good! good!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the invitation met with no response from -Whero and his mother.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Shall it be said by morning light Nga-Hepé's -wife was sleeping in the Ingarangi [English] bed, and -he a dead man lying on the floor of his forefathers' -whare, with none to do tangi above him!" she -exclaimed, tearing fresh handfuls from her long dark -hair in her fury.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh to be bigger and stronger," groaned Whero, -"that I might play my game with the greenstone -club! but my turn will come."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The blaze of passion in the boy's star-like eyes -recalled his mother to calmness. "What are you," -she asked, "but an angry child to court the blow of -the warrior's club that would end your days? A -man can bide his hour. Go with the Ingarangi, boy."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, go," urged her companion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A bright thought struck the gray-haired woman, -and she whispered to Edwin, "Get him away; get -him safe to the Ingarangi school. Nothing can reach -him there. He loves their learning; it will make -him a mightier man than his fathers have ever been. -If he stays with us, we can't hold him back. He -will never rest till he gets himself killed."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, but my Whero will go back with the -Ingarangi boy and beg a blanket to keep the babies -from the cold night wind," added his mother coaxingly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come along," said Edwin, linking his arm in -Whero's and setting off with a run. "Now tell me -all you want—blankets, and what else?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the boy had turned sullen, and would not -speak. He put his hands before his face and sobbed -as if his heart would break.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where is the horse?" he asked abruptly, as they -reached Mrs. Hirpington's gate.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In there," said Edwin, pointing to the stable.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Maori boy sprang over the bar which Dunter -had fixed across the entrance to keep the horse in, -and threw his arms round the neck of his black -favourite, crying more passionately than ever.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He is really yours," put in Edwin, trying to -console him. "I do not want to keep the horse when -you can take him back. Indeed, I am not sure my -father will let me keep him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But he was speaking to deaf ears; so he left Whero -hugging his four-footed friend, and went in-doors for -the blankets. Mrs. Hirpington was very ready to -send them; but when Edwin returned to the stable, -he found poor Whero fast asleep.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Just like those Maoris," laughed Dunter. "They -drop off whatever they are doing; it makes no -difference. But remember, my man, there is a good old -saying, 'Let sleeping dogs lie.'"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So, instead of waking Whero, they gently closed -the stable-door; and Edwin went off alone with the -blankets on his shoulder. He found Nga-Hepé's -wife still seated by the roadside rocking her baby, -with her two bigger children asleep beside her. One -dark head was resting on her knee, the other nestling -close against her shoulder. Edwin unfolded one of -the blankets he was bringing and wrapped it round -her, carefully covering up the little sleepers. Her -companions had not been idle. To the Maori the -resources of the bush are all but inexhaustible. They -were making a bed of freshly-gathered fern, and -twisting a perfect cable from the fibrous flax-leaves. This -they tied from tree to tree, and flung another blanket -across it, making a tent over the unfortunate mother. -Then they crept behind her, under the blanket, keeping -their impromptu tent in shape with their own backs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Goo'-night," they whispered, "goo' boy. Go -bush a' right."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Edwin lingered another moment to tell the -disconsolate mother how he had left Whero sleeping -by the horse.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Wake up—no find us—then he go school," she -said, wrinkling the patch of tattoo on her lip and -chin with the ghost of a smile.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="a-ride-through-the-bush"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER III.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">A RIDE THROUGH THE BUSH.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The fire by the white pines had died away, but -a cloud of smoke rose from the midst of the -trees and obscured the view. A faint rumbling -sound and the dull thud of horses' feet reached -Edwin from time to time as he ran back to the ford.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A lantern was swinging in the acacia tree. The -white gate was flung open, and Dunter, with his hand -to his ear, stood listening to the far-off echo.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A splash of oars among the rushes, and the shock -of a boat against the stairs, recalled him to the house. -Edwin ran joyfully down the steps, and gave a hand -to Mr. Bowen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We are not all here now," the old gentleman -said. "Your father stuck by the coach, and he -would have his daughters with him, afraid of an open -boat on a night like this."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then Edwin felt a hand in the dark, which he -knew was Cuthbert's; and heard Mr. Hirpington's -cheery voice exclaiming, "Which is home first—boat -or coach?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hard to say," answered Dunter, as the coach -drove down the road at a rapid pace, followed by a -party of roadmen with pickaxe on shoulder, coming -on with hasty strides and a resolute air about them, -very unusual in men returning from a hard day's -labour.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The coach drew up, and Mr. Lee was the first to -alight. He looked sharply round, evidently -counting heads.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All here, all right," answered Mr. Hirpington. -"Safe, safe at home, as I hope you will all feel it," -he added, in his heartiest tones.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was no exact reply. His men gathered -round him, exclaiming, "We heard the war-cry from -the Rota Pah. There's mischief in the wind to-night. -So we turned our steps the other way and waited for -the coach, and all came on together."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is a row among the Maoris themselves," put -in Dunter, "as that lad can tell you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The man looked sceptical. A new chum, as fresh -arrivals from the mother country are always termed, -and a youngster to boot, what could he know?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Hirpington stepped out from the midst of the -group and laid his hand on Mr. Lee's shoulder, who -was bending down to ask Edwin what all this meant, -and drew him aside.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I trust, old friend," he said, "I have not blundered -on your behalf, but all the heavy luggage you sent -on by packet arrived last week, and I, not knowing -how to take care of it, telegraphed to headquarters -for permission to put it in the old school-house until -you could build your own. I thought to do you a -service; but if our dusky neighbours have taken -offence, that is the cause, I fear."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Lee made a sign to his children to go in-doors. -Edwin led his sisters up the terrace-steps, and came -back to his father. The coach was drawn inside the -gate, and the bar was replaced. The driver was -attending to his horses; but all the others were -holding earnest council under the acacia tree, where the -lantern was still swinging.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But I do not understand about this old schoolhouse," -Mr. Lee was saying; "where is it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Over the river," answered several voices. "The -government built it for the Maoris before the last -disturbance, when the Hau-Hau [pronounced </span><em class="italics">How -How</em><span>] tribe turned against us, and went back to their -old superstitions, and banded together to sell us no -more land. It was then the school was shut up, but -the house was left; and now we are growing friendly -again," added Mr. Hirpington, "I thought all was -right."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So it is," interposed Mr. Bowen, confidently. -"My sheep-run comes up very near to the King -country, as they like to call their district, and I want -no better neighbours than the Maoris."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then Edwin spoke out. "Father, I can tell you -something about it. Do listen."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They did listen, one and all, with troubled, anxious -faces. "This tana," they said, "may not disperse -without doing more mischief. Carry on their work -of confiscation at the old school-house, perhaps."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no; no fear of that," argued Mr. Bowen and -the coachman, who knew the Maoris best.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll run no risk of losing all my ploughs and -spades," persisted Mr. Lee. "How far off is the -place?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not five miles across country," returned his friend. -"I have left it in the care of a gang of rabbiters, who -have set up their tents just outside the garden -wall—safe enough, as it seemed, when I left."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lend me a horse and a guide," said Mr. Lee, "and -I'll push on to-night."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The children, of course, were to be left at the ford; -but Edwin wanted to go with his father. Dunter -and another man were getting ready to accompany him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Father," whispered Edwin, "there is the black -horse; you can take him. Come and have a look at -him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He raised the heavy wooden latch of the stable-door, -and glanced round for Whero. There was the -hole in the straw where he had been sleeping, but the -boy was gone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He must have stolen out as we drove in," remarked -the coachman, who was filling the manger with corn -for his horses.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The man had far more sympathy with Nga-Hepé -in his trouble than any of the others. He leaned -against the side of the manger, talking to Edwin -about him. When Mr. Lee looked in he stooped -down to examine the horse, feeling its legs, and the -height of its shoulder. On such a congenial subject -the coachman could not help giving an opinion. -Edwin heard, with considerable satisfaction, that the -horse was a beauty.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But I do not like this business at all, and if I had -had any idea Mr. Hirpington's messenger was a native, -you should never have gone with him, Edwin," Mr. Lee -began, in a very decided tone. "However," he -added, "I'll buy this horse, I don't mind doing that; -but as to taking presents from the natives, it is out -of the question. I will not begin it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But, father," put in Edwin, "there is nobody here -to buy the horse of; there is nobody to take the -money."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll take the money for Nga-Hepé," said the -coachman. "I will make that all right. You saw how it -was as we came along. The farmers and the natives -are on the watch for my coming, and they load me -with all sorts of commissions. You would laugh at -the things these Maoris get me to bring them from -the towns I pass through. I don't mind the bother -of it, because they will take no end of trouble in -return, and help me at every pinch. I ought to carry -Nga-Hepé ten pounds."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Lee thought that cheap for so good a horse, -and turned to the half light at the open door to count -out the money.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But I shall not take him away with me to-night. -I will not be seen riding a Maori's horse if Hirpington -can lend me another," persisted Mr. Lee.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then Mr. Bowen limped up to the stable-door, and -Edwin slipped out, looking for Whero behind the farm -buildings and round by the back of the house. But -the Maori boy was nowhere to be seen. The -coachman was right after all. Mr. Hirpington went -indoors and called to Edwin to join him. He had the -satisfaction of making the boy go over the ground -again. But there was nothing more to tell, and Edwin -was dismissed to his supper with an exhortation to -be careful, like a good brother, not to frighten his -sisters.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He crossed over and leaned against the back of -Audrey's chair, simply observing, "Father is going on -to-night."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well?" she returned eagerly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It won't be either well or fountain here," he -retorted, "but a boiling geyser. I've seen one in the -distance already."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Isn't he doing it nicely?" whispered Effie, nodding. -"They told him to turn a dark lantern on us. We -heard—Audrey and I."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh yes," smiled her sister; "every word can be -heard in these New Zealand houses, and no one ever -seems to remember that. I give you fair warning."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is a rare field for the little long-eared pitchers -people are so fond of talking about—present -representatives, self and Cuthbert. We of course must -expect to fill our curiosity a drop at a time; but you -must have been snapped up in a crab-shell if you -mean to keep Audrey in the dark," retorted Effie.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Cuthbert! Cuthbert!" called Edwin, "here is a -buzzing bee about to sting me. Come and catch it, -if you can."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cuthbert ran round and began to tickle his sister -in spite of Audrey's horrified "My dear!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The other men came in, and a look from Mr. Lee -recalled the young ones to order. But the grave -faces, the low words so briefly interchanged among -them, the business-like air with which the supper -was got through, in the shortest possible time, kept -Audrey in a flutter of alarm, which she did her best -to conceal. But Mr. Bowen detected the nervous -tremor in her hand as she passed his cup of coffee, -and tried to reassure her with the welcome intelligence -that he had just discovered they were going to -be neighbours. What were five-and-twenty miles in -the colonies?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A very long way off," thought the despondent Audrey.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At a sign from Mr. Lee, Mrs. Hirpington conducted -the girls to one of the tiny bedrooms which ran along -the back of the house, where the "coach habitually -slept." As the door closed behind her motherly -good-night, Effie seized upon her sister, exclaiming,—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What are we in for now?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sleep and silence," returned Audrey; "for we -might as well disclose our secret feelings in the -market-place as within these iron walls."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I always thought you were cousin-german to the -discreet princess; but if you reduce us to dummies, -you will make us into eaves-droppers as well, and we -used to think that was something baddish," retorted -Effie.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You need not let it trouble your conscience to-night, -for we cannot help hearing as long as we are -awake; therefore I vote for sleep," replied her sister.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But sleep was effectually banished, for every sound -on the other side of the thin sheet of corrugated iron -which divided them from their neighbours seemed -increased by its resonance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They knew when Mr. Lee drove off. They knew -that a party of men were keeping watch all night by -the kitchen fire. But when the wind rose, and a cold, -pelting rain swept across the river, and thundered on -the metal roof with a noise which could only be -out-rivalled by the iron hail of a bombardment, every -other sound was drowned, and they did not hear what -the coachman was saying to Edwin as they parted for -the night. So it was possible even in that house of -corrugated iron not always to let the left hand know -what the right was doing. Only a few words passed -between them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are a kind-hearted lad. Will you come -across to the stables and help me in the morning? I -must be up before the dawn."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was an earnestness in the coachman's -request which Edwin could not refuse.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With the first faint peep of gray, before the -morning stars had faded, the coachman was at Edwin's -door. The boy answered the low-breathed summons -without waking his little brother, and the two were -soon standing on the terraced path outside the house -in the fresh, clear, bracing air of a New Zealand -morning, to which a touch of frost had been -superadded. They saw it sparkling on the leaves of the -stately heliotropes, which shaded the path and waved -their clustering flowers above the coachman's head as -they swayed in the rising breeze. He opened the -gate in the hedge of scarlet geraniums, which divided -the garden from the stable-yard, and went out with -Edwin, carrying the sweet perfume of the heliotropes -with them. Even the horses were all asleep.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, it is early," remarked Edwin's companion. -"The coach does not start until six. I have got old -time by the forelock, and I've a mind to go over to -the Rota Pah, if you can show me the way."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I think I can find it," returned Edwin, with a -confidence that was yet on the lee side of certainty.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, then we'll take the black horse. If we give -him the rein, he will lead us to his old master's door. -It is easy work getting lost in the bush, but I never -yet turned my back on a chum in trouble. Once a -chum always a chum with us. Many's the time -Nga-Hepé's stood my friend among these wild hills, and I -want to see him after last night's rough handling. -That is levelling down with a vengeance."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The coachman paused, well aware his companions -would blame him for interfering in such a business, -and very probably his employers also, if it ever reached -their ears. So he led the horse out quietly, and -saddled him on the road. The ground was white -with frost. The moon and stars were gradually -paling and fading slowly out of sight. The forest was -still enwrapped in stately gloom, but the distant hills -were already catching the first faint tinge of rosy light.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Edwin got up behind the coachman, as he had -behind Nga-Hepé. They gave the horse its head, and -rode briskly on, trusting to its sagacity to guide them -safely across the bush with all its dangers—dangers -such as Edwin never even imagined. But the -coachman knew that one unwary step might mean death -to all three. For the great white leaves of the deadly -puka-puka shone here and there, conspicuous in the -general blue-green hue of the varying foliage; a poison -quickly fatal to the horse, but a poison which he loves. -The difficulty of getting out of the thicket, where it -was growing so freely, without suffering the horse to -crop a single leaf kept them from talking.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If I had known that beastly white-leaved thing -was growing here, I would not have dared to have -brought him, unless I had tied up his head in a net," -grumbled the coachman, making another desperate -effort to leave the puka-puka behind by changing his -course. They struggled out of the thicket, only to -get themselves tied up in a detestable supple-jack—a -creeper possessing the power to cling which we faintly -perceive in scratch-grass, but in the supple-jack this -power is intensified and multiplied until it ties together -everything which comes within its reach, making it -the traveller's plague and another terrible foe to a -horse, a riderless horse especially, who soon gets so -tied up and fettered that he cannot extricate himself, -and dies. By mutual help they broke away from the -supple-jack, and stumbled upon a mud-hole. But -here the good horse started back of his own accord, -and saved them all from a morning header in its -awful depths. For the mud was seething, hissing, -boiling like some witch's caldron—a horrid, bluish -mud, leaving a yellow crust round the edge of the -hole, and sending up a sulphurous smell, which set -Edwin coughing. The coachman alighted, and led -the horse cautiously away. Then he turned back to -break off a piece of the yellow crust and examine it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Edwin remembered his last night's ride with the -Maori, how he shot fearlessly forward, avoiding all -these insidious dangers as if by instinct, "So that I -did not even know they existed," exclaimed the boy, -with renewed admiration for the fallen chief.</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"'The rank puts on the guinea stamp,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But the man's the gold for a' that,'"</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>he cried, with growing enthusiasm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Gold or stamp," retorted the coachman; "well, I -can't lay claim to either. I'm a blockhead, and yet -not altogether one of nature's making, for I could -have done better. When I was your age, lad, who -would have thought of seeing me, Dilworth Ottley, -driving a four-in-hand over such a breakneck path -as we crossed yesterday? Yet I've done it, until I -thought all sense of danger was deadened and gone. -But that horrid hole brings back the shudder."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What is it?" asked Edwin.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"One of the many vents through which the volcanic -matter escapes. In my Cantab days—you stare; -but I was a Cantab, and got ploughed, and -rusticated—I was crack whip among the freshmen. The horses -lost me the 'exam;' and I went on losing, until it -seemed that all was gone. Then I picked up my -whip once more; and here you find me driving the -cross-country mail for so much a week. But it makes -a fellow feel when he sees another down in his luck -like this Maori, so that one cannot turn away with -an easy conscience when it is in one's power to help -him, or I'd go back this very moment."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, don't," said Edwin earnestly; "we are almost there."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The exceeding stillness of the dawn was broken by -the wailing cry of the women. The horse pricked -up his ears, and cantered forward through the basket -willows and acacias which bordered the sleeping lake. -Along its margin in every little creek and curve canoes -were moored, but from the tiny bay-like indentation -by the lonely whare the canoe had vanished.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The sudden jets of steam uprising in the very -midst of the Maori pah looked weird and ghostlike -in the gray of the dawn. Only one wild-cat crept -stealthily across their path. Far in the background -rose the dim outline of the sacred hills where the -Maori chiefs lie buried.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Edwin looked upward to their cloud-capped summits -awestruck, as the wild traditionary tales he had -heard from Hepé's lips only last night rushed back -upon his recollection.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There before him was the place of graves; but -where was the still more sacred Te Tara, the -mysterious lake of beauty, with its terraced banks, where -fairy-like arcades of exquisite tracery rise tier above -tier, shading baths fed by a stream of liquid sun in -which it is happiness to bathe?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Edwin had listened to the Maori's description as -if it had been a page from some fairy tale; but -Ottley, in his matter-of-fact way, confirmed it all.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This Maori's paradise," he said, "may well be -called the last-discovered wonder of the world. I -bring a lot of fellows up here to see it every year; -that is what old Bowen is after now. 'A thing of -beauty is a joy for ever.' This magic geyser has -built a bathing-house of fair white coral and enamel -lace, with basins of shell and fringes of pearl. What -is it like? there is nothing it is like but a Staffa, with -its stalactites in the daylight and the sunshine. If -Nature forms the baths, she fills them, too, with -boiling water, which she cools to suit every fancy as she -pours it in pearly cascades from terrace to terrace, -except in a north-east wind, which dries them up. -All these Maoris care for is to spend their days like -the ducks, swimming in these pools of delight. It is -a jealously-guarded treasure. But they are wide -awake. The pay of the sightseer fills their pockets -without working, and they all disdain work."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They were talking so earnestly they did not -perceive a patch of hot, crumbling ground until the -horse's fore feet went down to the fetlocks as if it -were a quicksand, shooting Ottley and Edwin over -his head among the reeds by the lake. Ottley picked -himself up in no time, and flew to extricate the horse, -warning Edwin off.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Whatever you may say of the lake, there are a -lot of ugly places outside it," grumbled Edwin, -provoked at being told to keep his distance when he -really felt alight with curiosity and wonder as to -what strange thing would happen next. Having got -eyes, as he said, he was not content to gape and stare; -he wanted to investigate a bit.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Once more the wail of the women was borne across -the lake, rising to a fearsome howl, and then it -suddenly ceased. The two pressed forward, and tying -the horse to a tree, hastened to intercept the agonized -wife venturing homewards with the peep of light, -only to discover how thoroughly the tana had done -its work.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the poor women fled shrieking into the bush -once more when they perceived the figure of a man -advancing toward them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A friend! a friend!" shouted Ottley, hoping that -the sound of an Englishman's voice would reassure -them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a crashing in the bushes, and something -leaped out of the wild tangle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is Whero!" exclaimed Edwin, running to meet -him. They grasped hands in a very hearty fashion, -as Edwin whispered almost breathlessly, "How have -they left your father?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You have come to tangi with us!" cried Whero, -in gratified surprise; and to show his warm -appreciation of the unexpected sympathy, he gravely -rubbed his nose against Edwin's.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, don't," interposed the English boy, feeling -strangely foolish.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ottley laughed, as he saw him wipe his face with -considerable energy to recover from his embarrassment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, bother!" he exclaimed. "I shall be up to it -soon, but I did not know what you meant by it. -Never mind."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let us have a look round," said the coachman, -turning to Whero, "before your mother gets here."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have been watching in the long grass all night," -sobbed the boy; "and when the tramp of the last -footsteps died away, I crept out and groped my way -in the darkness. I got to the door, and called to my -father, but there was no answer. Then I turned again -to the bush to find my mother, until I heard our own -horse neigh, and I thought he had followed me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ottley soothed the poor boy as best he could as -they surveyed the scene of desolation. The fences -were all pulled up and flung into the lake, and the -gates thrown down. The garden had been thoroughly -ploughed, and every shrub and tree uprooted. -The patch of cultivated ground at the back of the -whare had shared the same fate.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was so late in the autumn Ottley hoped the -harvest had been gathered in. It mattered little. The -empty storehouse echoed to their footsteps. All, all -was gone. They could not tell whether the great -drove of pigs had been scared away into the bush or -driven off to the pah. Whero was leading the way -to the door of the principal whare, where he had last -seen his father. In the path lay a huge, flat stone -smashed to pieces. The hard, cold, sullen manner -which Whero had assumed gave way at the sight, -and he sobbed aloud.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Edwin was close behind them; he took up a splinter -from the stone and threw it into the circle of bubbling -mud from which it had been hurled. Down it went -with a splash—down, down; but he never heard it -reach the bottom.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did that make anything rise?" asked Ottley -anxiously, as he looked into the awful hole with a -shudder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They could not fill this up," retorted Whero -exultantly. "Throw in what you will, it swallows it all."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To him the hot stone made by covering the dangerous -jet was the embodiment of all home comfort. It -was sacred in his eyes—a fire which had been lighted -for the race of Hepé by the powers of heaven and -earth; a fire which nothing could extinguish. He -pitied the Ingarangi boy by his side, who had never -known so priceless a possession.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Watch it," said Ottley earnestly. "If anything -has been thrown in, it will rise to the surface after -a while incrusted with sulphur; but now—" He -pushed before the boys and entered the whare.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There lay Nga-Hepé, a senseless heap, covered with -blood and bruises. A stream of light from the open -door fell full on the prostrate warrior. The rest of -the whare was in shadow.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Whero sprang forward, and kneeling down beside -his father, patted him fondly on his cheek and arm, -as he renewed his sobbing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After the tana had feasted to their heart's content. -after they had carried off everything movable, -Nga-Hepé had been called upon to defend himself against -their clubs. Careful to regulate their ruthless -proceedings by ancient custom, his assailants came upon -him one at a time, until his powerful arm had -measured its strength with more than half the -invading band. At last he fell, exhausted and bereft of -everything but the greenstone club his unconscious -hand was grasping still.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He is not dead," said Ottley, leaning over him; -"his chest is heaving."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>An exclamation of thankfulness burst from Edwin's lips.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ottley was looking about in vain for something to -hold a little water, for he knew that the day was -breaking, and his time was nearly gone. All that he -could do must be done quickly. He was leaving the -whare to pursue his quest without, when he perceived -the unfortunate women stealing through the shadows. -He beckoned the gray-haired Maori, who had waited -on Marileha from her birth, to join him. A few -brief words and many significant gestures were -exchanged before old Ronga comprehended that the life -yet lingered in the fallen chief. She caught her -mistress by the arm and whispered in her native tongue.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The death-wail died away. Marileha gazed into -the much-loved face in breathless silence. A murmur -of joy broke from her quivering lips, and she looked -to Whero.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He went out noiselessly, and Edwin followed. A -hissing column of steam was still rising unchecked -from a rough cleft in the ground, rendered bare and -barren by the scalding spray with which it was -continually watered. Old Ronga was already at -work, making a little gutter in the soft mud with -her hands, to carry the refreshing stream to the bed -of a dried-up pond. Edwin watched it slowly filling -as she dug on in silence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The bath is ready," she exclaimed at last. The -word was passed on to her companions, who had laid -down the sleepy children they had just brought home -in a corner of the great whare, still huddled together -in Mrs. Hirpington's blanket. With Ottley's assistance -they carried out the all but lifeless body of -Nga-Hepé, and laid him gently in the refreshing pool, -with all a Maori's faith in its restorative powers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marileha knelt upon the brink, and washed the -blood-stains from his face. The large dark eyes -opened, and gazed dreamily into her own. Her heart -revived. What to her were loss and danger if her -warrior's life was spared? She glanced at Ottley -and said, "Whilst the healing spring still flows by his -father's door there is no despair for me. Here he -will bathe for hours, and strength and manhood will -come back. Whilst he lies here helpless he is safe. -Could he rise up it would only be to fight again. -Go, good friend, and leave me. It would set the -jealous fury of his tribe on fire if they found you -here. Take away my Whero. My loneliness will be -my defence. What Maori would hurt a weeping woman -with her hungry babes? There are kind hearts in the -pah; they will not leave me to starve."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She held out her wet hand as she spoke. Ottley -saw she was afraid to receive the help he was so -anxious to give. Whilst they were speaking, Edwin -went to find Whero.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had heard the black horse neigh, and was -looking round for his favourite. "They will seize -him!" he muttered between his set teeth. "Why will -you bring him here?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come along with us," answered Edwin quickly, -"and we will go back as fast as we can."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the friendly ruse did not succeed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll guide you to the road, but not a step beyond -it. Shall men say I fled in terror from the sound of -clubs—a son of Hepé?" exclaimed Whero. "Should -I listen to the women's fears?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All very fine," retorted Edwin. "If I had a -mother, Whero, I'd listen to what she said, and I'd -do as she asked me, if all the world laughed. They -might call me a coward and a jackass as often as they -liked, what would I care? Shouldn't I know in my -heart I had done right?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Have not you a mother?" said Whero.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Edwin's "No" was scarcely audible, but it touched -the Maori boy. He buried his face on the horse's -shoulder, then suddenly lifting it up with a defiant -toss, he asked, "Would you be faithless and desert -her if she prayed you to do it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This was a home-thrust; but Edwin was not to be -driven from his position.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," he retorted, "even then I should say to -myself, 'Perhaps she knows best.'"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had made an impression, and he had the good -sense not to prolong the argument.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-new-home"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER IV.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE NEW HOME.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The sun had risen when Edwin and the coach -man started on their way to the ford. With -Whero running by the horse's head for a guide, the -dangers of the bush were avoided, and they rode -back faster than they came. The gloom had vanished -from the forest. The distant hills were painted with -violet, pink, and gold. Sunbeams danced on scarlet -creepers and bright-hued berries, and sparkled in a -thousand frosted spiders' webs nestling in the forks -of the trees. Whero led them to the road, and there -they parted. "If food runs low," he said, "I shall -go to school. With all our winter stores carried -away it must; I know it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't try starving before schooling," said Ottley, -cheerily. "Watch for me as I come back with the -coach, and I'll take you down to Cambridge and on -to the nearest government school.—Not the Cambridge -you and I were talking of, Edwin, but a little -township in the bush which borrows the grand old -name.—You will love it for a while, Whero; you tried it -once."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And I'll try it again," he answered, with a smile. -"There is a lot more that I want to know about—why -the water boils through the earth here and not -everywhere. We love our mud-hole and our boiling -spring, and you are afraid of them."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They are such awful places," said Edwin, as -Whero turned back among the trees and left them, -not altogether envious of a Maori's patrimony. "It is -such a step from fairy-land to Sodom and Gomorrah," -persisted Edwin, reverting to Nga-Hepé's legends.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't talk," interrupted Ottley. "There is an -awful place among these hills which goes by that -name, filled with sulphurous smoke and hissing mud. -The men who made that greenstone club would have -finished last night's work by hurling Nga-Hepé into its -chasms. Thank God, that day is done. We have -overcome the cannibal among them; and as we draw their -young lads down to our schools, it will never revive." They -rode on, talking, to the gate of the ford-house.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I shall be late getting off," exclaimed Ottley, as -he saw the household was astir. He gave the bridle -to Edwin and leaped down. The boy was in no -hurry to follow. He lingered outside, just to try if -he could sit his powerful steed and manage him -single-handed. When he rode through the gate at -last, Ottley was coming out of the stable as intent -upon his own affairs as if nothing had occurred.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Breakfast was half-way through. The passengers -were growing impatient. One or two strangers had -been added to their number. The starting of the -coach was the grand event of the day. Mrs. Hirpington -was engrossed, and Edwin's entrance passed -unquestioned. His appetite was sharpened by his -morning ride across the bush, and he was working -away with knife and fork when the coach began to fill.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If ever you find your way to Bowen's Run, you -will not be forgotten," said the genial colonist, as he -shook hands with the young Lees and wished them -all success in their new home.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The boys ran out to help him to his seat, and see -the old ford-horse pilot the coach across the river.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ottley laid his hand on Edwin's shoulder for a -parting word.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tell your father poor Marileha—I mean Whero's -mother—dare not keep the money for the horse; but -I shall leave all sorts of things for her at the -roadman's hut, which she can fetch away unnoticed at -her own time. When you are settled in your new -home, you must not forget I'm general letter-box."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We are safe to use you," laughed Edwin; and so -they parted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The boys climbed up on the garden-gate to watch -the crossing. The clever old pilot-horse, which -Mr. Hirpington was bound by his lease to keep, was -yoked in front of the team. Good roadsters as the -coach-horses were, they could not manage the river -without him. Their feet were sure to slip, and one -and all might be thrown down by the force of the -current. But this steady old fellow, who spent his -life crossing and recrossing the river, loved his work. -It was a sight no admirer of horses could ever -forget to see him stepping down into the river, taking -such care of his load, cautiously advancing a few -paces, and stopping to throw himself back on his -haunches and try the bottom of the river with one -of his fore feet. If he found a boulder had been -washed down in the night too big for him to step -over, he swept the coach round it as easily and -readily as if it were a matter of course, instead of -a most unexpected obstruction. The boys were in -ecstasies. Then the sudden energy he put forth to -drag the coach up the steep bank on the opposite -side was truly marvellous. When he considered his -work was done, he stood stock-still, and no power on -earth could make him stir another step. As soon as -he was released, splash he went back into the water, -and trotted through it as merrily as a four-year-old.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Cuthbert," said Edwin, in a confidential whisper, -"we've got just such another of our own. Come along -and have a look at him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Away went the boys to the stable, where Mr. Hirpington -found them two hours after making -friends with "Beauty," as they told him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At that hour in the morning every one at the -ford was hard at work, and they were glad to leave -the boys to their own devices. Audrey and Effie -occupied themselves in assisting Mrs. Hirpington. -When they all met together at the one-o'clock dinner, -Edwin was quite ready to indemnify his sisters for -his last night's silence, and launched into glowing -descriptions of his peep into wonderland.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Shut up," said Mr. Hirpington, who saw the -terror gathering in Effie's eyes. "You'll be persuading -these young ladies we are next-door neighbours -to another Vesuvius.—Don't believe him, my dears. -These mud-jets and geysers that he is talking about -are nature's safety-valves. I do not deny we are -living in a volcanic region. We feel the earth tremble -every now and then, setting all the dishes rattling, -and tumbling down our books; but it is nothing -more than the tempests in other places."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm thinking more of the Maoris than of their -mud," put in Effie, shyly; while Audrey quietly -observed, everything was strange at present, but they -should get used to it by-and-by.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The Maoris have been living among nature's -water-works for hundreds of years, and they would -not change homes with anybody in the world; neither -would we. Mr. Bowen almost thinks New Zealand -beats old England hollow," laughed Mr. Hirpington. -"If that is going a little too far, she is the gem of -the Southern Ocean. But seriously now," he added, -"although the pumice-stone we can pick up any day -tells us how this island was made, there has been no -volcanic disturbance worth the name of an eruption -since we English set foot on the island. The Maoris -were here some hundreds of years before us, and -their traditions have been handed down from father to -son, but they never heard of anything of the kind."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Hirpington spoke confidently, and all New -Zealand would have agreed with him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Edwin thought of Whero. "There are a great many -things I want to understand," he said, thoughtfully.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Wife," laughed Mr. Hirpington, "is not there a -book of Paulett Scroope's somewhere about? He is -our big gun on these matters."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As Mrs. Hirpington rose to find the book, she -tried to divert Effie's attention by admitting her -numerous family of cats: seven energetic mousers, -with a goodly following of impudent kittens—tabby, -tortoise-shell, and black. When Effie understood she -was to choose a pet from among them, mud and -Maoris seemed banished by their round green eyes -and whisking tails. The very title of Edwin's book -proved consolatory to Audrey—"Geology and -Extinct Volcanoes in Central France." A book in the -bush is a book indeed, and Edwin held his treasure -with a loving clasp. He knew it was a parting gift; -and looking through the river-window, he saw -Dunter and his companion returning in a big lumbering -cart. They drew up on the opposite bank of the -river and waved their hats.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They have come to fetch us," cried Audrey. -Mrs. Hirpington would hardly believe it. "I -meant to have kept you with me for some days at -least," she said; but the very real regret was set -aside to speed the parting of her juvenile guests.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>According to New Zealand custom, Mr. Lee had -been obliged to buy the horse and cart which brought -his luggage up country, so he had sent it with -Dunter to fetch his children.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The men had half filled it with freshly-gathered -fern; and Edwin was delighted to see how easily his -Beauty could swim the stream, to take the place of -Mr. Hirpington's horse.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He would make a good pilot," exclaimed the -man who was riding him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Hirpington was almost affectionate in her -leave-taking, lamenting as she fastened Effie's cloak -that she could not keep one of them with her. But -not one of the four would have been willing to be -left behind.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The boat was at the stairs; rugs and portmanteaus -were already thrown in.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Hirpington had seized the oar. "I take you -myself," he said; "that was the bargain with your father."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In a few minutes they had crossed the river, and -were safely seated in the midst of a heap of fern, -and found it as pleasant as a ride in a hay-cart. -Mr. Hirpington sat on the side of the cart teaching -Cuthbert how to hold the reins.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The road which they had taken was a mere -cart-track, which the men had improved as they came; -for they had been obliged to use their hatchets freely -to get the cart along. Many a great branch which -they had lopped off was lying under the tree from -which it had fallen, and served as a way-mark. The -trees through which they were driving were tall and -dark, but so overgrown with creepers and parasites it -was often difficult to tell what trees they were. A -hundred and fifty feet above their heads the red -blossoms of the rata were streaming like banners, and -wreathing themselves into gigantic nests. Beneath -were an infinite variety of shrubs, with large, glossy -leaves, like magnolias or laurels; sweetly fragrant -aromatic bushes, burying the fallen trunk of some old -tree, shrouded in velvet moss and mouse-ear. Little -green and yellow birds were hopping from spray to -spray through the rich harvest of berries the bushes -afforded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The drive was in itself a pleasure. A breath of -summer still lingered in the glinting sunlight, as if it -longed to stay the falling leaves. The trees were -parted by a wandering brook overgrown with brilliant -scarlet duckweed. An enormous willow hanging over -its pretty bank, with a peep between its drooping -branches of a grassy slope just dotted with the -ever-present ti tree told them they had reached their -journey's end. They saw the rush-thatched roof and -somewhat dilapidated veranda of the disused -schoolhouse. Before it stretched a lovely valley, where the -brook became a foaming rivulet. A little group of -tents and a long line of silvery-looking streamers -marked the camp of the rabbiters.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the children's eyes were fastened on the -moss-grown thatch. Soon they could distinguish the -broken-down paling and the recently-mended gate, at -which Mr. Lee was hammering. A shout, in which -three voices at least united, made him look round. -Down went bill and hammer as he ran to meet them, -answering with his cheeriest "All right!" the welcome -cry of, "Father, father, here we are!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Hirpington sprang out and lifted Audrey to -the ground. Mr. Lee had Effie in his arms already. -The boys, disdaining assistance, climbed over the back -of the cart, laughing merrily. The garden had long -since gone back to wilderness, but the fruit still hung -on the unpruned trees—apples and peaches dwindling -for want of the gardener's care, but oh, so nice in -boyish eyes! Cuthbert had shied a stone amongst the -over-ripe peaches before his father had answered his -friend's inquiries.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>No, not the shadow of a disturbance had reached -his happy valley, so Mr. Lee asserted, looking round -the sweet, secluded nook with unbounded satisfaction.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You could not have chosen better for me," he -went on, and Edwin's beaming face echoed his father's -content.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Hirpington was pulling out from beneath the -fern-leaves a store of good things of which his friend -knew nothing—-wild pig and hare, butter and eggs, -nice new-made bread; just a transfer from the larder -at the ford to please the children.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Age had given to the school-house a touch of the -picturesque. Its log-built walls were embowered in -creepers, and the sweet-brier, which had formerly -edged the worn-out path, was now choking the -doorway. Although Mr. Lee's tenancy could be counted -by hours, he had not been idle. A wood fire was -blazing in the room once sacred to desk and form. -The windows looking to the garden behind the house -had been all forced open, and the sunny air they -admitted so freely was fast dispelling the damp and -mould which attach to shut-up houses in all parts of -the world.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>One end of the room was piled with heterogeneous -bales and packages, but around the fire-place a sense -of comfort began to show itself already. A -camp-table had been unpacked and screwed together, and -seats, after a fashion, were provided for all the party. -The colonist's "billy," the all-useful iron pot for camp -fire or farmhouse kitchen, was singing merrily, and -even the family teapot had been brought back to -daylight from its chrysalis of straw and packing-case. -There was a home-like feeling in this quiet taking -possession.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I thought it would be better than having your -boys and girls shivering under canvas until your -house was built," remarked Mr. Hirpington, rubbing -his hands with the pleasant assurance of success. -"You can rent the old place as long as you like. It -may be a bit shaky at the other corner, but a good -prop will make it all right."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The two friends went out to examine, and the -brothers and sisters drew together. Effie was hugging -her kitten; Cuthbert was thinking of the fruit; but -Beauty, who had been left grazing outside, was -beforehand with him. There he stood, with his fore feet -on the broken-down paling, gathering it for himself. -It was fun to see him part the peach and throw -away the stone, and Cuthbert shouted with delight to -Edwin. They were not altogether pleased to find -Mr. Hirpington regarded it as a very ordinary -accomplishment in a New Zealand horse.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We are in another hemisphere," exclaimed Edwin, -"and everything about us is so delightfully new."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Except these decaying beams," returned his father, -coming round to examine the state of the roof above -the window at which Edwin and Effie were standing -after their survey of the bedrooms.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Audrey, who had deferred her curiosity to prepare -the family meal, was glad to learn that, besides the -room in which Mr. Lee had slept last night, each end -of the veranda had been enclosed, making two more -tiny ones. A bedstead was already put up in one, -and such stores as had been unpacked were shut in -the other.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When Audrey's call to tea brought back the -explorers, and the little party gathered around their -own fireside, Edwin could but think of the dismantled -hearth by the Rota Pah, and as he heard his father's -energetic conversation with Mr. Hirpington, his -indignation against the merciless tana was ready to -effervesce once more.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now," Mr. Lee went on, "I cannot bring my mind -to clear my land by burning down the trees. You -say it is the easiest way."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't begin to dispute with me over that," laughed -his friend. "You can light a fire, but how will you -fell a tree single-handed?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The boys were listening with eager interest to their -father's plans. To swing the axe and load the faggot-cart -would be jolly work indeed in those lovely woods.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Hirpington was to ride back on the horse he -had lent to Mr. Lee on the preceding evening. When -he started, the brothers ran down the valley to get a -peep at the rabbiter's camp. Three or four men were -lying round their fire eating their supper. The line -of silver streamers fluttering in the wind proved to be -an innumerable multitude of rabbit-skins hanging up -to dry. A party of sea-gulls, which had followed the -camp as the rabbiters moved on, were hovering about, -crying like cats, until they awakened the sleeping -echoes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The men told Edwin they had been clearing the -great sheep-runs between his father's land and the -sea-shore, and the birds had followed them all those -miles for the sake of the nightly feast they could -pick up in their track.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You can none of you do without us," they said. -"We are always at work, moving from place to place, -or the little brown Bunny would lord it over you all."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The boys had hardly time to exchange a good-night -with the rabbiters, when the daylight suddenly faded, -and night came down upon vale and bush without the -sweet interlude of twilight. They were groping their -way back to the house, when the fire-flies began their -nightly dance, and the flowering shrubs poured forth -their perfume. The stars shone out in all their -southern splendour, and the boys became aware of a -moving army in the grass. Poor Bunny was -mustering his myriads.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="posting-a-letter"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER V.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">POSTING A LETTER.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Mr. Lee and his boys found so much to do in -their new home, days sped away like hours. -The bright autumn weather which had welcomed them -to Wairoa (to give their habitation its Maori name) -had changed suddenly for rain—a long, deluging rain, -lasting more than a week.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The prop which Mr. Hirpington had recommended -was necessarily left for the return of fine weather. -But within doors comfort was growing rapidly. One -end of the large room was screened off for a workshop, -and shelves and pegs multiplied in convenient corners. -They were yet a good way off from that happy condition -of a place for everything, and everything in its -place. It was still picnic under a roof, as Audrey said; -but they were on the highroad to comfort and better -things. When darkness fell they gathered round the -blazing wood-fire. Mr. Lee wrote the first letters for -England, while Edwin studied "Extinct Volcanoes." Audrey -added her quota to the packet preparing for -Edwin's old friend, "the perambulating letter-box," -and Effie and Cuthbert played interminable games of -draughts, until Edwin shut up his book and evolved -from his own brains a new and enlarged edition of -Maori folk-lore which sent them "creepy" to bed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It seemed a contradiction of terms to say May-day -was bringing winter; but winter might come upon -them in haste, and the letters must be posted before -the road to the ford was changed to a muddy rivulet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Lee, who had everything to do with his own -hands, knew not how to spare a day. He made up -his mind at last to trust Edwin to ride over with -them. To be sure of seeing Ottley, Edwin must stay -all night at the ford, for after the coach came in it -would be too late for him to return through the bush -alone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Edwin was overjoyed at the prospect, for Ottley -would tell him all he longed to know. Was Nga-Hepé -still alive? Had Whero gone to school? He might -even propose another early morning walk across the -bush to the banks of the lake.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Edwin was to ride the Maori Beauty, which had -become the family name for the chieftain's horse. -Remembering his past experiences with the -white-leaved puka-puka, he coaxed Audrey to lend him a -curtain she was netting for the window of her own -bedroom. She had not much faith in Edwin's assurances -that it would not hurt it a bit just to use it for -once for a veil or muzzle; but she was horrified into -compliance by his energetic assertion that her refusal -might cost his Beauty's life. Cuthbert, mounted on -an upturned pail, so that he could reach the horse's -head, did good service in the difficult task of putting -it on. The veil was not at all to the Beauty's mind, -and he did his best to get rid of it. But the four -corners were drawn through his collar at last, and -securely tied.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With Mr. Lee's parting exhortation to mind what -he was about and look well to Beauty's steps, Edwin -started.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The road was changed to a black, oozy, slimy -track. Here and there the earth had been completely -washed away, and horse and rider were floundering -in a boggy swamp. A little farther on a perfect -landslip from the hills above had obliterated every -trace of road, and Edwin was obliged to wind his way -through the trees, trusting to his Beauty's instinct to -find it again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With the many wanderings from the right path -time sped away. The lamp was swinging in the -acacia tree as he trotted up to the friendly gate of the -ford-house.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Coach in?" he shouted, as he caught sight of -Dunter shovelling away the mud from the entrance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not yet; but she's overdue," returned the man, -anxiously. "Even Ottley will never get his horses -through much longer. We may lock our stable-doors -until the May frosts begin. It is a tempting of -Providence to start with wheels through such a swamp, -and I told him so last week."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then I am just in time," cried Edwin joyfully, -walking his horse up to the great flat stone in the -middle of the yard and alighting. He slipped his -hand into his coat to satisfy himself the bulky letters -in his breast-pocket were all right, and then led his -Beauty to the horse-trough. He had half a mind not -to go in-doors until he had had his talk with Ottley.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Dunter, who was looking forward to the brief -holiday the stopping of the coach secured him, leaned -on his spade and prepared for a gossip.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did Mr. Lee think of building a saw-mill?" -Edwin's reply ended with the counter-inquiry, -"Had Mr. Hirpington got home?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Dunter shook his head. "Not he: we all hold on -as long as the light lasts. He is away with the men, -laying down a bit of corduroy road over an earthslip, -just to keep a horse-track through the worst of the -winter."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Whilst Edwin was being initiated into the mysteries -of road-making in the bush, the coach drove up.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Horses and driver were alike covered with mud, -and the coach itself exhibited more than its usual -quota of flax-leaf bandages—all testifying to the -roughness of the journey.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is the last time you will see me this season," -groaned Ottley, as he got off the box. "I shall get -no farther." He caught sight of Edwin, and recognized -his presence with a friendly nod. The passengers, -looking in as dilapidated and battered condition -as the coach, were slowly getting out, thankful to find -themselves at a stopping-place. Among them Edwin -noticed a remarkable old man.</span></p> -<p class="pnext" id="id1"><span>His snowy hair spoke of extreme old age, and -when he turned a tattooed cheek towards the boy, -Edwin's attention was riveted upon him at once. -Lean, lank, and active still, his every air and gesture -was that of a man accustomed to command.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Look at him well," whispered Dunter. "He is a -true old tribal chief from the other side of the -mountains, if I know anything; one of the invincibles, the -gallant old warrior-chiefs that are dying out fast. -You will never see his like again. If you had heard -them, as I have, vow to stand true for ever and ever -and ever, you would never forget it.—Am I not right, -coachee?" he added in a low aside to Ottley, as he -took the fore horse by the head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The lantern flickered across the wet ground. The -weary passengers were stamping their numbed feet, -and shaking the heavy drops of moisture from -hat-brims and overcoats. Edwin pressed resolutely -between, that he might catch the murmur of Ottley's -reply.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He got in at the last stopping-place, but I do not -know him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was such a look of Whero in the proud flash -of the aged Maori's eye, that Edwin felt a secret -conviction, be he who he might, they must be kith and -kin. He held his letter aloft to attract the coachman's -attention, calling out at his loudest, "Here, Mr. Ottley, -I have brought a letter for you to post at last."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All right," answered the coachman, opening a -capacious pocket to receive it, in which a dozen -others were already reposing. "Hand it over, my -boy; there is scarcely a letter reaches the post from -this district which does not go through my hands."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did you post this?" asked the aged Maori, taking -another from the folds of his blanket.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I did more," said Ottley, as he glanced at the -crumpled envelope, "for I wrote it to Kakiki Mahane, -the father of Nga-Hepé's wife, at her request."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am that father," returned the old chief.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And I," added Ottley, "was the eye-witness of -her destitution, as that letter tells you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They were almost alone now in the great wet yard. -The other passengers were hurrying in-doors, and -Dunter was leading away the horses; but Edwin -lingered, regardless of the heavy drops falling from -the acacia, in his anxiety to hear more.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have brought no following with me to the -mountain-lake, for by your letter famine is brooding -in the whare of my child. Well, I know if the men -of the Kota Pah heard of my coming, they would -spread the feast in my honour. But how should I eat -with the enemies of my child? I wait for the rising -of the stars to find her, that none may know I am near."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll go with you," offered Ottley.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You need not wait for the stars," interposed -Edwin; "I'll carry the big coach-lantern before you -with pleasure. Do let me go with you," he urged, -appealing to Ottley.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How is this?" asked Kakiki. "Does the pakeha -pity when the Maori frowns? What has my son-in-law -been about, to bring down upon himself the -vengeance of his tribe?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let your daughter answer that question," remarked -Ottley discreetly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Edwin put in warmly: "Nga-Hepé was too -rich and too powerful, and the chief grew jealous. -It was a big shame; and if I had been Whero, I -should have been worse than he was."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Whero's grandfather deigned no reply. He stalked -up the well-worn steps into Mrs. Hirpington's kitchen, -and seating himself at the long table called out for -supper. Edwin just peeped in at the door, avoiding -Mrs. Hirpington's eye, for fear she should interfere -to prevent him going with the old Maori.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I shall see her when I come back," he thought, as -he strolled on towards the stable, keeping an -anxious watch over the gate, afraid lest the fordmaster -should himself appear at the last moment and detain him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You have brought Nga-Hepé's horse," said Ottley. -as he entered the nearest stall. "We must have him, -for he knows the way. We have only to give him -his head, and he is safe to take the road to his -master's door."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If you have him you must have me," persisted -Edwin, and the thing was settled. He nestled down -in the clean straw under Beauty's manger, and waited, -elate with the prospect of a night of adventure, and -stoutly resisted all Dunter's persuasions to go in to -supper.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Wondering at the shy fit which had seized the boy, -Dunter brought him a hunch of bread and cheese, and -left the lantern swinging in the stable from the hook -in the ceiling, ere he went in with Ottley to share the -good feed always to be found in Mrs. Hirpington's -kitchen, leaving Edwin alone with the horses. He -latched the stable-door, as the nights were growing cold. -The gates were not yet barred, for Mr. Hirpington -and his men were now expected every minute.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Edwin's thoughts had gone back to the corduroy -road, which Dunter had told him was made of the -trunks of trees laid close together, with a layer of -saplings on the top to fill up the interstices. He was -making it in miniature with some bits of rush and -reed scattered about the stables, when the latch was -softly lifted, and Whero stood before him. Not the -Whero he had parted from by the white pines, but -the lean skeleton of a boy with big, staring eyes, and -bony arms coming out from the loose folds of the -blanket he was wearing, like the arms of a harlequin. -Edwin sprang up to meet him, exclaiming, "Your -grandfather is here." But instead of replying, Whero -was vigorously rubbing faces with his good old Beauty.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Have you come to meet your grandfather?" asked Edwin.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," answered the boy abruptly. "I've come to -ask Ottley to take me to school." His voice was -hollow, and his teeth seemed to snap together at the -sight of the bread in Edwin's hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Whero, you are starving!" exclaimed Edwin, -putting the remainder of his supper into the dusky, -skinny fingers smoothing Beauty's mane.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A man must learn to starve," retorted Whero. -"The mother here will give me food when I come of -nights and talk to Ottley."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But your own mother, Whero, and Ronga, and -the children, how do they live?" Edwin held back -from asking after Nga-Hepé, "for," he said, as he -looked at Whero, "he must be dead."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How do they live?" repeated Whero, with a -laugh. "Is the door of the whare ever shut against -the hungry? They go to the pah daily, but I will -not go. I will not eat with the men who struck -down my father in his pride. I wander through the -bush. Let him eat the food they bring him—he -knows not yet how it comes; but his eyes are -opening to the world again. When he sees me -hunger-bitten, and my sister Rewi fat as ever, he will want -the reason why. I will not give it. His strength is -gone if he starves as I starve. How can it return? -No; I will go to school to-morrow before he asks me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Edwin's hand grasped Whero's with a warmth of -sympathy that was only held in check by the dread of -another nasal caress, and he exclaimed, "Come along, -old fellow, and have a look at your grandfather too."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was something about the grand old Maori's -face which made Edwin feel that he both could and -would extricate his unfortunate daughter from her -painful position.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is a fix," Edwin went on; "but he has come -to pull you through, I feel sure."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Still Whero held back. He did not believe it was -his grandfather. </span><em class="italics">He</em><span> would not come without a -following; and more than that, the proud boy could not -stoop to show himself to a stranger of his own race -in such a miserable guise. He coiled himself round -in the straw and refused to stir.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now, Whero," Edwin remonstrated, "I call this -really foolish; and if I were you I would not, I could -not do it, speak of my own mother as one of the -women. I like your mother. It rubs me up to hear -you—" The boy stopped short; the measured breathing -of his companion struck on his ear. Whero had -already fallen fast asleep by Beauty's side.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, bother!" thought Edwin. "Yet, poor fellow, -I won't wake you up, but I'll go and tell your -grandfather you are here."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He went out, shutting the door after him, and -encountered Mr. Hirpington coming in with his men.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hollo, Edwin, my boy, what brings you here?" -he exclaimed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Please, sir, I came over with a packet of letters -for Mr. Ottley to post," was the quick answer, as -Edwin walked on by his side, intent upon delivering -his father's messages.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All right," was the hearty response. "We'll see. -Come, now I think of it, we can send your father -some excellent hams and bacon we bought of the -Maoris. Some of poor Hepé's stores, I expect."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That was a big shame," muttered Edwin, hotly, -afraid to hurt poor Whero's pride by explaining his -forlorn state to any one but his grandfather.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He entered the well-remembered room with the -fordmaster, looking eagerly from side to side, as -Mr. Hirpington pushed him into the first vacant seat at -the long table, where supper for the "coach" was -going forward. Edwin was watching for the old -chief, who sat by Ottley, gravely devouring heap after -heap of whitebait, potatoes, and pumpkins with which -the "coach" took care to supply him. Mrs. Hirpington -cast anxious glances round the table, fearing -that the other passengers would run short, as the old -Maori still asked for "more," repeating in a loud -voice, "More, more kai!" which Ottley interpreted -"food." Dunter was bringing forth the reserves from -the larder—another cheese, the remains of the -mid-day pudding, and a huge dish of brawn, not yet cold -enough to be turned out of the mould, and therefore -in a quaky state. The old chief saw it tremble, and -thinking it must be alive, watched it curiously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What strange animals you pakehas bring over the -sea!" he exclaimed at last, adding, as he sprang to his -feet and drew the knife in his belt with a savage -gesture, "I'll kill it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The laughter every one was trying to suppress -choked the explanation that would have been given -on all sides. With arm upraised, and a contorted -face that alone was enough to frighten Mrs. Hirpington -out of her wits, he plunged the knife into the -unresisting brawn to its very hilt, utterly amazed to -find neither blood nor bones to resist it. "Bah!" he -exclaimed, in evident disgust.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Here, Edwin," gasped the shaking fordmaster, -"give the old fellow a spoon."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Edwin snatched up one from the corner of the -table, and careful not to wound the aged Maori's -pride, which might be as sensitive as his grandson's, -he explained to him as well as he could that brawn -was brawn, and very jolly stuff for a supper.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Example is better than precept at all times," -laughed Mr. Hirpington. "Show him what to do -with the spoon."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Edwin obeyed literally, putting it to his own lips -and then offering it to Kakiki. The whole room was -convulsed with merriment. Ottley and Mr. Hirpington -knew this would not do, and exerted themselves -to recover self-control sufficiently to persuade the old -man to taste and try the Ingarangi kai.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He drew the dish towards him with the utmost -gravity, and having pronounced the first mouthful -"Good, good," he worked away at it until the whole -of its contents had disappeared. And all the while -Whero was starving in the stable.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I can't stand this any longer," thought Edwin. "I -must get him something to eat, I must;" and following -Dunter into the larder, he explained the state of -the case.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Wants to go by the coach and cannot pay for -supper and bed. I see," returned Dunter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Edwin thought of the treasure by the white pines -as he answered, "I am afraid so."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's hard," pursued the man good-naturedly; -"but the missis never grudges a mouthful of food to -anybody. I'll see after him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let me take it to him," urged Edwin, receiving -the unsatisfactory reply, "Just wait a bit; I'll see," -as Dunter was called off in another direction; and -with this he was obliged to be content.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ottley was so taken up with the aged chief—who -was considerably annoyed to find himself the laughing-stock -of the other passengers—that Edwin could not -get a word with him. He tried Mr. Hirpington, who -was now talking politics with a Wellingtonian fresh -from the capital. Edwin, in his fever of impatience, -thought the supper would never end. After a while -some of the passengers went off to bed, and others -drew round the fire and lit their pipes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Hirpington, Kakiki, and the coachman alone -remained at the table. At last the dish of brawn -was cleared, and the old Maori drew himself up with -a truly royal air. Taking out a well-filled purse, in -which some hundreds of English sovereigns were -glittering, he began counting on his fingers, "One ten, -two ten—how muts?" (much).</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ottley, who understood a Maori's simple mode of -reckoning better than any one present, was assisting -Mrs. Hirpington to make her bill, and began to speak -to Kakiki about their departure.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The fordmaster could see how tired the chief was -becoming, and suddenly remembered a Maori's -contempt and dislike for the wretched institution of -chairs. He was determined to make the old man -comfortable, and fetching a bear-skin from the inner -room, he spread it on the floor by the fire, and invited -Kakiki to take possession. Edwin ran to his help, -and secured the few minutes for talk he so much -desired. Mr. Hirpington listened and nodded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You will have to stay here until the morning," -he added, "every one of you. Go off with Dunter -and make the boy outside as comfortable as you can. -I should be out of my duty to let that old man cross -the bush at night, with so much money about him. -Better fetch his grandson in here."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Hirpington laid her hand on Edwin's shoulder -as he passed, and told him, with her pleasant smile, -his bed was always ready at the ford.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Dunter pointed to a well-filled plate and a mug of -tea, placed ready to his hand on the larder shelf; and -stretching over Edwin's head, he unbolted the door to -let him out.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Southern Cross shone brightly above the iron -roof as Edwin stepped into the yard to summon -Whero. The murmur of the water as it lapped on -the boating-stairs broke the stillness without, and -helped to guide him to the stable-door. The lantern -had burnt out. He groped his way in, and giving -Whero a hearty shake, charged him to come along.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the hand he grasped was withdrawn.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I can't," persisted Whero; "I'm too ashamed." He -meant too shy to face the "coach," and tell all he had -endured in their presence. The idea was hateful to him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Edwin placed the supper on the ground and ran -back for Ottley. He found the coachman explaining to -Kakiki why Marileha had refused to accept the money -for the horse, and how he had kept it for her use.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then take this," cried Kakiki, flinging the purse -of gold towards him, "and do the like."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Ottley's "No!" was dogged in its decision.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What for no?" asked Kakiki, angrily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who is his daughter?" whispered Mr. Hirpington -to his wife.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You know her: she wears the shark's teeth, tied -in her ears with a black ribbon," Mrs. Hirpington -answered, sleepily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then he went to the rescue, and tried to persuade -Kakiki to place his money in the Auckland Bank for -his daughter's benefit, pointing out as clearly as he -could the object of a bank, and how to use it. As -the intelligent old man began to comprehend him, he -reiterated, "Good, good; the pitfall is only dangerous -when it is covered. My following are marching after -me up the hills. If I enter the Rota Pah with the -state of a chief, there will be fighting. Send back -my men to their canoes. Hide the wealth that -remains to my child as you say, but let that wahini" -(meaning Mrs. Hirpington) "take what she will, and -bid her send kai by night to my daughter's whare, -that there may be no starving. This bank shall be -visited by me, and then I go a poor old man to sleep -by my daughter's fire until her warrior's foot is firm -upon the earth once more. I'll wrap me in that thin -sheet," he went on, seizing the corner of the -table-cloth, which was not yet removed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Hirpington let him have it without a word, -and Ottley rejoiced to find them so capable and so -determined to extricate Marileha from her peril.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Before this moon shall pass," said Kakiki, "I will -take her away, with her family, to her own people. -Let your canoe be ready to answer my signal."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Agreed," replied Mr. Hirpington; "I'll send my -boat whenever you want it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For all that," thought Edwin, "will Nga-Hepé go -away?" He longed to fetch in Whero, that he might -enter into his grandfather's plans; and as, one after -another, the passengers went off to bed, he made his -way to Mrs. Hirpington. Surely he could coax her -to unbar the door once more and let him out to the -stables.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What, another Maori asleep in the straw!" she -exclaimed. "They do take liberties. Pray, my dear, -don't bring him in here, or we shall be up all night."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Edwin turned away again in despair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Having possessed himself of the table-cloth, the old -chief lay down on the bear-skin and puffed away at -the pipe Mr. Hirpington had offered him, in silence -revolving his schemes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was most anxious to ascertain how his son-in-law -had brought down upon himself the vengeance of -the tribe amongst which he lived. "I will not break -the peace of the hills," he said at length, "for he may -have erred. Row me up stream while the darkness -lasts, that I may have speech of my child."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Too late," said Mr. Hirpington; "wait for the daylight."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Are there not stars in heaven?" retorted Kakiki, -rising to try the door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Am I a prisoner?" he demanded angrily, when -he found it fastened.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Hirpington felt he had been reckoning without -his host when he declared no one should leave his -roof that night. But he was not the man to persist -in a mistake, so he threw it open.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll row him," said Dunter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Edwin ran out with them. Here was the chance -he had been seeking. He flew to the stable and -roused up Whero. Grandfather and grandson met -and deliberately rubbed noses by the great flat stone -which Edwin had used as a horse-block. Whilst -Dunter and Mr. Hirpington were getting out the boat, -they talked to each other in their native tongue.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It will be all right now, won't it?" asked Edwin, -in a low aside to Ottley, who stood in the doorway -yawning. But Kakiki beckoned them to the conference.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The sky is black with clouds above my daughter's -head; her people have deserted her—all but Ronga. -Would they cut off the race of Hepé? Some -miscreant met the young lord in the bush, and tried to -push him down a mud-hole; but he sprang up a tree, -and so escaped. Take him to school as he wills. -When I go down to the bank I shall see him there. -It is good that he should learn. The letter has saved -my child."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="midnight-alarms"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER VI.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">MIDNIGHT ALARMS.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>After his return home, Edwin felt as if mud -and rain had taken possession of the outside -world. The rivulet in the valley had become a -raging torrent. All the glamour of the woods was gone. -The fern-covered hills looked gaunt and brown. The -clumps of flax and rush bent their flattened heads -low in the muddy swamp before the piercing night -winds. The old trees in the orchard were shattered, -and their broken branches, still cumbering the ground, -looked drear and desolate. The overgrowth of leaf -and stalk presented a mass of decaying vegetation, -dank and sodden.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>One chill May morning brought a heavy snow, -veiling the calm crests of the majestic hills with -dazzling whiteness, becoming more intense and vivid -as their drapery of mist and storm-cloud blackened. -All movement seemed absorbed by the foaming cascades, -tearing down the rifts and gullies in the valley -slope. Every sign of life was restricted to a -ghostly-looking gull, sated with dead rabbit, winging its heavy -flight to the blue-black background of dripping rock.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But in this England of the Southern Seas the -winter changes as it changes in the British Isles. -Sharp, frosty nights succeeded. The ground grew -crisp to the tread. The joyous work in the woods -began. Mr. Lee went daily to his allotment with -axe on shoulder and his boys by his side. His skill -in woodcraft was telling. Many of the smaller trees -had already fallen beneath his vigorous stroke, when -the rabbiters—who glean their richest harvest in the -winter nights—reappeared. They were so used to the -reckless ways of the ordinary colonist—who cuts and -slashes and burns right hand and left until the coast -is clear—that Mr. Lee's methodical proceedings began -to interest them. His first step was to clear away -the useless undergrowth and half-grown trees, gaining -room for charcoal fires, and for stacks of bark which -his boys were stripping from the fallen trunks. His -roving neighbours promised to leave their traps and -snares, and help him to bring down the forest giants -which he was marking for destruction.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>One June evening, as the Lees were returning -from a hard day's work, they passed the rabbiters -going out as usual to begin their own. A slight -tremor in the ground attracted the attention of both -parties. As they exchanged their customary -good-night, one of the rabbiters observed there was an -ugly look about the sky.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The boys grumbled to each other that there was -an ugly look about the ground. Although thousands -of little brown heads and flopping ears were bobbing -about among the withered thistle-stalks, thousands -more were lying dead behind every loose stone or -weedy tuft.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The ghoul-like gulls were hovering in increasing -numbers, some already pouncing on their prey and -crying to their fellows wheeling inland from the -distant shore. No other sound disturbed the silence of -the bush. The sense of profound repose deepened as -they reached their home. To Mr. Lee it seemed an -ominous stillness, like the lull before the storm; but -in the cheerful light of his blazing fire he shook off -the feeling.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The weary boys soon went to bed. For the -present they were sleeping in the same room as their -father, who slowly followed their example.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was nearly midnight, when Edwin was awakened -with a dim feeling of something the matter. -Cuthbert was pulling him. "Edwin! Edwin!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What is it?" he cried. Edwin's hurried exclamation -was lost in the bang and rattle all around. -Were the windows coming in? He sprang upright as -the bed was violently shaken, and the brothers were -tossed upon each other.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What now?" called out Mr. Lee, as the floor -swayed and creaked, and he felt himself rolling over -in the very moment of waking. The walls were -beginning a general waltz, when the noise of falling -crockery in the outer room and the howling of the -rabbiters' dogs drowned every other sound.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A sickly, helpless sensation stole over them all, -Mr. Lee too, as everything around them became as -suddenly still—an eerie feeling which could not be -shaken off. The boys lay hushed in a state of -nervous tension, not exactly fear, but as if their -senses were dumfoundered and all their being -centred in a focus of expectation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Effie gave a suppressed scream. Mr. Lee was -speaking to her through the wall. "It is over, my -dear—it is over; don't be frightened," he was -saying.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It—what it?" asked Cuthbert, drawing his head -under the bed-clothes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Our first taste of earthquake," returned his -father; "and a pretty sharp one, I fancy."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At this announcement Cuthbert made a speedy -remove to his father's bed, and cuddled down in the -blankets. Mr. Lee walked round the room and -looked out of the window. It was intensely dark; -he could see nothing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh my head!" they heard Audrey saying; "it -aches so strangely."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Lee repeated his consolatory assurance that it -was over, and returned to bed, giving way to the -natural impulse to lie still which the earthquake -seemed to produce. The violence of the headache -every one was experiencing made them thankful to -lie down once more; but rest was out of the question. -In a little while all began again; not a violent -shock, as at the first, but a continual quaking.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Lee got up and dressed. He was afraid to -light a lamp, for fear it should be upset; so he -persuaded his children to keep in bed, thinking they -would be rolled down in the darkness by the heaving -of the floor. He groped his way into the outer room, -treading upon broken earthenware at every step. -This was making bad worse. He went back and lit -a match. It was just two o'clock.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Audrey, who heard him moving about, got up also, -and began to dress, being troubled at the destruction -of the plates and dishes. In ten minutes they were -startled by a fearful subterranean roar. Edwin could -lie still no longer. He sprang up, and was hurrying -on his clothes, when the house shook with redoubled -violence. Down came shelves, up danced chairs. The -bang and crash, followed by a heavy thud just -overhead, made Edwin and his father start back to -opposite sides of the room as the roof gave way, and a -ton weight of thatch descended on the bed Edwin -had just vacated.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The chimney!" exclaimed Mr. Lee. "The chimney is down!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The dancing walls seemed ready to follow. Cuthbert -was grabbing at his shoes. Mr. Lee ran to the -door, thinking of his girls in the other room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Audrey! Effie!" he shouted, "are you hurt?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the weight of the falling thatch kept the door -from opening. He saw the window was bulging -outwards. He seized a stick standing in the corner, and -tried to wrench away the partition boarding between -him and his daughters. But the slight shake this -gave to the building brought down another fall of -thatch, filling the room with dust. Edwin just escaped -a blow from a beam; but the darkness was terrific, -and the intense feeling of oppression increased the -frantic desire to get out.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In another moment the whole place will be about -our ears!" exclaimed Mr. Lee, forcing the window -outwards, and pushing the boys before him into the open. -He saw—no, he could not see, but rather felt the -whole building was tottering to its fall. "Let the -horses loose!" he shouted to Edwin, as he ran round -to the front of the house to extricate the girls.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The boom as of distant cannon seemed to fill the air.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"O Lord above, what is it?" ejaculated one of the -rabbiters, who had heard the chimney go down, and -was hurrying to Mr. Lee's assistance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Again the heavy roll as of cannon seemed to -reverberate along the distant shore.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is a man-of-war in distress off Manakau Head," -cried a comrade.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That! man, that is but the echo; the noise is from -the hills. There is hot work among the Maoris, maybe. -They are game enough for anything. The cannon is -there," averred old Hal, the leader of the gang.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then it is that Nga-Hepé blowing up the Rota -Pah by way of revenge," exclaimed the first speaker.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Edwin had opened the stable-door, and was running -after his father. He caught the name Nga-Hepé, and -heard old Hal's reply,—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He buy cannon indeed, when the muru took away -his all not three months since!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Edwin passed the speaker, and overtaking his -father in the darkness, he whispered, "The man may -be right. Nga-Hepé's wife buried his money by the -roadside, by the twin pines, father. I saw her do it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah!" answered Mr. Lee, as he sprang up the -veranda steps and rapped on Audrey's window. As -she threw it open a gruff voice spoke to Edwin out of -the darkness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So it was money Marileha buried?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Edwin gave no reply. Mr. Lee was holding -out his arms to Erne, who had scrambled upon the -window-sill, and stood there trembling, afraid to take -the leap he recommended.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Wrap her in a blanket, Audrey, and slide her -down," said their father.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Edwin was on the sill beside her in a moment. -The blanket Audrey was dragging forward was seized -and flung around the little trembler, enveloping head, -arms, and feet. Mr. Lee caught the lower end, and -drawing it down, received his "bonnie birdie" in his -fatherly arms. Edwin leaped into the darkness -within.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Quick, Audrey, quick, or the house will fall upon -us," he urged.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was snatching at this and that, and tying up a -bundle in haste. Edwin pulled out another blanket -from the tumbled bed-clothes, and flung it on the -window-sill.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no," said Audrey; "I'll jump."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She tossed her bundle before her, and setting -herself low on her feet, she gave one hand to her father -and the other to the gruff speaker who had startled -Edwin in the darkness. They swung her to the -ground between them just as the log-built walls began -to roll. Edwin was driven back among the ruins, -crouching under the bulrush thatch, which lay in -heaps by the debris of beam and chimney, snug like a -rabbit in its burrow, whilst beam and prop were -falling around him. He heard Cuthbert calling -desperately, "Look, look! father, father! the world's on -fire!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Edwin tugged furiously at the mass of dry and -dusty rushes in which he had become enveloped, -working with hands and feet, groping his way to space -and air once more. The grand but terrific sight which -met his gaze struck him backwards, and he sank -confounded on the heap, from which he had scarcely -extricated himself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The sacred Maori hills, which at sunset had reared -their snowy crests in majestic calm, were ablaze with -fire. The intensity of the glare from the huge pillar -of flame, even at so great a distance, was more than -eyes could bear. With both hands extended before -his face to veil the too terrific light, Edwin lay -entranced. That vision of a thousand feet of ascending -flame, losing itself in a dome of cloud blacker and -denser than the blackness of midnight, might well -prelude the day of doom. Unable to bear the sight -or yet to shut it out, he watched in dumb amazement. -White meteor globes of star-like brilliancy shot from -out the pall of cloud in every direction, and shed a -blue unearthly light on all around. They came with -the roar as of cannon, and the rocks were riven by -their fall. Huge fissures, opening in the mountain -sides, emitted streams of rolling fire.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Edwin forgot his own peril and the peril of all -around, lost in the immensity of the sight. The cries -and groans of the rabbiters recalled him. Some had -thrown themselves on their faces in a paroxysm of -terror. Old Hal had fallen on his knees, believing -the end of the world had come.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Edwin heard his father's voice rising calm and clear -above the gasping ejaculations and snatches of -half-forgotten prayer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Would you court blindness? Shut your eyes to -the awful sight. It is an eruption of Mount -Tarawera. Remember, Hal, we are in the hands of One -whom storm and fire obey."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The play of the lightning around the mountain-head -became so intense that the glare from the huge -column of volcanic fire could scarcely be distinguished. -The jagged, forked flashes shot downwards to the -shuddering forest, and tree after tree was struck to -earth, and fire sprang up in glade and thicket.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To the open!" shouted Mr. Lee, blindfolding -Cuthbert with his handkerchief, and shrouding Effie -in the blanket, as he carried her towards the recent -clearing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cuthbert grasped his father's coat with both hands, -and stumbled on by his side. A dull, red spot in the -distance marked the place where the charcoal fires -were smouldering still, just as Mr. Lee had left them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He laid his burden down in the midst of the circling -heaps, which shed a warmth and offered something of -a shelter from the rising blast. It was the safest spot -in which he could leave the two; and charging Cuthbert -to be a man and take care of his sister, he hurried -away to look for Edwin.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With their backs against the sods which covered -over the charring wood, the children sat with their -arms round each other's necks, huddled together in the -blanket, all sense of loneliness and fear of being left -by themselves absorbed in the awe of the night.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Inspired by Mr. Lee's example, old Hal had rallied. -He had caught Beauty, and was putting him in the -cart. Audrey, with her recovered bundle on her arm, -with the quiet self-possession which never seemed to -desert her, was bringing him the harness from the -new-built shed, which was still standing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The gruff rabbiter, who had been the first to come -to Mr. Lee's assistance, followed her for a fork to -move the heaps of thatch which hemmed Edwin in. -He was crossing to the ruined house with it poised -upon his shoulder as Mr. Lee came up. He saw the -lightning flash across the steel, and dashed the fork -from the man's insensate grasp. The fellow staggered -backwards and fell a senseless heap. Star-like rays -were shooting from each pointing tine as the fork -touched the ground, and lines of fire ran from them -in every direction. Edwin saw it also, and seizing a -loosened tie-beam, he gave the great heap of thatch -before him a tremendous heave, and sent it over. -The sodden mass of rush, heavy with frozen snow, -broke to pieces as it fell, and changed the running fire -to a dense cloud of smoke.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A deep-voiced "Bravo, young un!" broke from the -horror-stricken rabbiters, who had gathered round -their comrade. But Mr. Lee was before them. He -had loosened the man's collar and torn open his shirt. -In the play of the cold night air his chest gave a -great heave. A sigh of thankfulness ran round the -group. The lightning he had so unthinkingly drawn -down upon himself had not struck a vital part.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Audrey had dropped her bundle, and was filling -her lap with the frozen flags by the edge of the -stream.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They dragged him away from the smoke, and -Audrey's icy gleanings were heaped upon his burning -head. A twitch of the nostrils was followed by a -deep groan.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He'll do," said Hal. "He's a coming round, thank God!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With a low-breathed Amen, Mr. Lee turned away, -for the cloud of smoke his boy had raised completely -concealed him. The cheery "All right" which -answered his shout for his son put new life into the -whole party.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Audrey and her father ran quickly to the end of -the house. The great beam of the roof was cleared, -and Edwin was cautiously making his way across it -on his hands and knees.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Stand back!" he cried, as he neared the end, and, -with a flying leap and hands outspread he cleared the -broken wall, and alighted uninjured on the ground.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Lee caught hold of him, and Audrey grasped -both hands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm all right," he retorted; "don't you bother -about me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A terrible convulsion shook the ground; the men -flung themselves on their faces. A splendid kauri -tree one hundred and seventy feet high, which shaded -the entrance of the valley, was torn up by the roots, -as an awful blast swept down the forest glades with -annihilating force. The crash, the shock reverberating -far and wide, brought with it such a sense of -paralyzing helplessness even Mr. Lee gave up all for -lost.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They lifted up their heads, and saw red-hot stones -flying into the air and rolling down the riven slopes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"O my little lambs!" groaned Mr. Lee, thinking -of the two he had left by the charcoal fires, "what -am I doing lying here, and you by yourselves in the -open?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Get 'em away," said Hal; "the cart is still there. -Put 'em all in, and gallop off towards the shore; it's -our only safety."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was too much weight in the old man's words -to disregard them. Mr. Lee looked round for his -other horse, which had rushed over him at a mad -bound when the last tree fell. He saw it now, its -coat staring with the fright, stealing back to its -companion.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-rain-of-mud"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER VII.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE RAIN OF MUD.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>It was about four o'clock in the morning. A new -thing happened—a strange new thing, almost -unparalleled in the world's history. The eruption -had been hitherto confined to the central peak of -Tarawera, known among the Maori tribes as Ruawahia; -but now with a mighty explosion the south-west peak -burst open, and flames came belching forth, with -torrents of liquid fire. The force of the earthquake -which accompanied it cracked the bed of the fairy -lake. The water rushed through the hole upon the -subterranean fires, and returned in columns of steam, -forcing upwards the immense accumulation of soft -warm mud at the bottom of the lake. The whole of -this was blown into the air, and for fifteen miles -around the mountain fell like rain. The enormous -amount of steam thus generated could not find half -vent enough through the single hole by which the -water had poured in, and blew off the crust of the -earth above it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Showers of rock, cinders, and dust succeeded the -mud, lashing the lake to fury—a fury which baffled -all imagination. The roar of the falling water through -unseen depths beneath the lake, the screech of the -escaping steam, the hissing cannonade of stones, -created a volley of sound for which no one could -account, whilst the mud fell thick and fast, as the -snow falls in a blizzard.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The geysers, catching the subterranean rage, shot -their scalding spray above the trees. Mud-holes were -boiling over and over, and new ones opening in -unexpected places. Every ditch was steaming, every -hill was reeling. For the space of sixty miles the -earth quivered and shook, and a horrid sulphurous -smell uprose from the very ground; while around -Tarawera, mountain, lake, and forest were enveloped -in one immense cloud of steam, infolding a throbbing -heart of flame, and ascending to the almost incredible -height of twenty-two thousand feet. Beneath its -awful shadow the country lay in darkness—a darkness -made still more appalling when the huge rock -masses of fire clove their way upwards, to fall back -into the crater from which they had been hurled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As Mr. Lee caught his horse by the forelock, the -first heavy drops of mud hissed on the frozen ground. -In another moment they came pelting thick and fast, -burning, blinding, burying everything in their path. -The horse broke loose from his master's hand, and -tore away to the shelter of the trees. The heavy cart -lumbering at his heels alone kept Beauty from -following his mate. Hal caught his rein, Edwin seized his -head, as the thick cloud of ashes and mud grew denser -and blacker, until Edwin could scarcely see his hand -before him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Get in! get in!" gasped the old rabbiter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Edwin swung himself upon the horse's back, and -rode postilion, holding him in with all his might.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The sick man first," said Mr. Lee, almost choking -with the suffocating smell which rose from the earth. -He lifted the poor fellow in his arms, a comrade -took him by the feet, and between them they got him -into the cart. Hal had resigned the reins to Edwin, -and taken his place, ready to pillow the unconscious -head upon his knees.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The Lord have mercy on us!" he groaned.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Lee groped round for Audrey. Her feet were -blistering through her thin boots, as she sank -ankle-deep in the steaming slime, which came pouring down -without intermission. Her father caught her by the -waist and swung her into the back of the cart. -Another of the rabbiters got up on the front and took -the reins from Edwin, who did not know the way. -The other two, with Mr. Lee, caught hold of the back -of the cart and ran until they came to their own -camp. The tents lay flat; the howling dogs had fled; -but their horse, which they had tethered for the -night, had not yet broken loose.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Here they drew up, sorely against Mr. Lee's desire, -for he could no longer distinguish the glimmer of his -charcoal fires, and his heart was aching for his -children—his innocents, his babies, as he fondly called -them—in that moment of dread. As the rabbiters -halted, he stooped to measure the depth of mud on -the ground, alarmed lest the children should be suffocated -in their sleep; for they might have fallen asleep, -they had been left so long.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not they," persisted Edwin. "They are not such -duffers as to lie down in mud like this; and as for -sleep in this unearthly storm—" he stopped abruptly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hark!" exclaimed his father, bending closer to the -ground. "Surely that was a 'coo,' in the distance."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Every ear was strained. Again it came, that -recognized call for help no colonist who reckons -himself a man ever refuses to answer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Faint as was the echo which reached them, it -quivered with a passionate entreaty.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They are cooing from the ford," cried one. But -another contradicted. It was only when bending -over the upturned roots of a fallen tree that the feeble -sound could be detected, amidst all the fearsome -noises raging in the upper air.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The rabbiters felt about for their spades, and -throwing out the mud from the cavity, knelt low in the -loosened earth. They could hear it now more plainly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Lee pressed his ear to the freshly-disturbed -mould, and listened attentively. The cry was a cry -of distress, and the voice was the voice of his friend.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The rabbiters looked at each other, aghast at the -thought of returning to the thick of the storm. It -was bad enough to flee before it; but to face the -muddy rain which was beating them to the earth, to -breathe in the burning dust which came whirling -through it, could any one do that and reach the ford -alive? Not one dare venture; yet they would not -leave the spot.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At break of day they said, "We will go." They -were glad of such shelter as the upheaved roots -afforded. It was a moment's respite from the blistering, -blinding rain. But whilst they argued thus, Mr. Lee -was striding onwards to the seven black heaps, -in the midst of which he had left his children.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The fires had long gone out; the blackness of -darkness was around him. He called their names. He -shouted. His voice was thick and hoarse from the -choking atmosphere. He stumbled against a hillock. -He sank in the drift of mud by its side. A faint, -low sob seemed near him; something warm eluded -his touch. His arms sought it in the darkness, -sweeping before him into empty space. Two resolute -small hands fought back his own, and Cuthbert -growled out fiercely, "Whoever you are, you shan't -touch my Effie. Get along!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not touch your Effie, my game chick!" retorted -Mr. Lee, with the ghost of a smile in spite of his -despair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, it is father! it is father!" they exclaimed, -springing into his arms. "We thought you would -never come back any more."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He thought they would never stop kissing him, -but he got them at last, big children as they were, -one under each arm, lifting, dragging, carrying by -turns, till he made his way to the cart. Then he -discovered why poor Effie hung so helplessly upon -him. Both hands had tightly clinched in the shock -of the explosion, and her feet dragged uselessly along -the ground.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She turned as cold as ice," said Cuthbert, "and -I've cuddled her ever since. Then the mud came on -us hot; wasn't that a queer thing?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They snugged poor Effie in the blanket, and Audrey -took her on her lap.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm not afraid now," she whispered, "now we are -all together. But I've lost the kitten."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," said Audrey; "I saw it after you were gone, -scampering up a tree."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Lee was leaning against the side of the cart, -speaking to old Hal.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They did not hear what he was saying, only the -rabbiter's reply: "Trust 'em to me. I'll find some -place of shelter right away, down by the sea. Here, -take my hand on it, and go. God helping, you may -save 'em at the ford. Maybe they are half buried -alive. It is on my mind it will be a dig-out when -you get there. The nearer the mischief the worse it -will be. When our fellows see you have the pluck to -venture, there'll be some of 'em will follow, sure and -sartin."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We are all chums here," said Mr. Lee, turning -to the men. "Lend me that spade and I'm off to -the ford. We must answer that coo somehow, my lads."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We'll do what we can in the daylight," they answered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am going to do what I can in the darkness," he -returned, as he shouldered the spade and crossed over -for a last look at his children.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Audrey laid her hand in his without speaking.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are not going alone, father, when I'm here," -urged Edwin, springing off the horse. "Take me -with you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, Edwin; your post is here, to guard the others -in my absence.—Remember, my darlings, we are all -in God's hands, and there I leave you," said Mr. Lee.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He seized a broken branch, torn off by the wind, -and using it as an alpenstock, leaped from boulder to -boulder across the stream, and was up the other side -of the valley without another word.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cuthbert was crying; the dogs were whining; -Audrey bent over Effie and rocked her backwards and -forwards.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The cart set off. The mud was up to the axle-tree. -It was slow work getting through it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The rest of the party were busy dragging their -tents out of the mire, and loading their own cart with -their traps as fast as they could, fumbling in the -dark, knee-deep in slush and mud.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As Beauty pulled his way through for an hour or -more, the muddy rain diminished, the earth grew -hard and dry. The children breathed more freely as -the fresh sea-breeze encountered the clouds of burning -dust, which seemed now to predominate over the mud.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They could hear the second cart rumbling behind -them. The poor fellow who had been struck by the -lightning began to speak, entreating his comrades to -lay him somewhere quiet. "My head, my head!" -he moaned. "Stop this shaking."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>By-and-by they reached a hut. They were entering -one of the great sheep-runs, where the rabbiters -had been recently at work. Here the carts drew up, -and roused its solitary inmate. One of the rabbiters -came round and told Hal they had best part company.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There are plenty of bold young fellows among -Feltham's shepherds. We are off to the great house -to tell him, and we'll give the alarm as we go. He'll -send a party off to the hills as soon as ever he hears -of this awful business. A lot of us may force a way. -We'll take this side of the run: you go the other -till you find somewhere safe to leave these children. -Wake up the shepherds in every hut you pass, and -send them on to meet us at Feltham's. If we are -back by daylight we shall do," they argued.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Agreed," said the old man. "We can't better -that. Dilworth and the traps had best wait here. -He will sleep this off," he added, looking -compassionately at his stricken comrade.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Out came the shepherd, a tall, gentlemanly young -fellow, who had passed his "little-go" at Trinity, -got himself "ploughed" like Ottley, and so went in -for the southern hemisphere and the shepherd's crook.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Pale and livid with the horror of the lone night-watch -in his solitary hermitage, he caught the full -import of the direful tidings at a word. His bed -and his rations were alike at their service. He -whistled up his horse and dog, and rode off at a -breakneck gallop, to volunteer for the relief-party, -and send the ill news a little faster to his master's -door, for his fresh horse soon outstripped the rabbiters' -cart. Meanwhile old Hal drove onward towards the -sea. A shepherd met him and joined company, -breathless for his explanation of all the terrors which -had driven him from his bed. He blamed Mr. Lee -for his foolhardiness in venturing on alone into such -danger.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Freed at last from the clayey slime, Beauty rattled -on apace. Cuthbert was fast asleep, and Edwin was -nodding, but Audrey was wide awake. She gathered -from the conversation of the men fresh food for fear. -The "run" they were crossing was a large one. She -thought they called it Feltham's. It extended for -some miles along the sea-shore, and Audrey felt sure -they must have journeyed ten or fifteen miles at least -since they entered it. Thirteen thousand sheep on -run needed no small company of shepherds. Many -of them lived at the great house with Mr. Feltham; -others were scattered here and there all over the -wide domain, each in his little shanty. Yet most -of them were the sons of gentlemen, certain to -respond to the rabbiters' call. Again the cart drew up, -and a glimmer of firelight showed her the low -thatched roof of another shanty. Hal called loudly -to a friend inside.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Up and help us, man! There is an awful eruption. -Tarawera is pouring out fire and smoke. Half the -country round will be destroyed before the morning!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Down sprang the shepherd. "We are off to -Feltham's; but we must have you with us, Hal, for -a guide. We don't know where we are wanted."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Edwin was wide awake in a moment. The men -were talking eagerly. Then they came round, lifted -the girls out of the cart, told them all to go inside -the hut and get a sleep, and they would soon send -somebody to see after them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hal laid his hand on Edwin's shoulder. "Remember -your father's charge, lad," he said, "and just keep -here, so that I know where to find you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was still so dark they could scarcely see each -other's faces; but as Edwin gave his promise, Audrey -sighed a startled sigh of fear. Were they going to -leave them alone?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Must," returned all three of the men, with a -decision that admitted of no question.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Afraid?" asked the shepherd, in a tone which -made Edwin retort, "Not a bit."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Audrey could not echo her brother's words. -She stood beside him the picture of dismay, thinking -of her father. Hal's friend Oscott picked up a piece -of wood and threw it on the dying lire; it blazed up -cheerily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My dear," said Hal, in an expostulating tone, -"would you have us leave your father single-handed? -We have brought you safe out of the danger. There -are numbers more higher up in the hills; we must go -back."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, yes," she answered, desperately. "Pray don't -think about us. Go; do go!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Oscott brought out his horse. The shepherd smiled -pityingly at the children. "We'll tell the -boundary-rider to look you up. He will bring the dog his -breakfast, and I have no doubt Mrs. Feltham will -send him with yours."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With a cheery good-night, crossed by the shepherd -with a cheerier good-morning, intended to keep their -spirits up, the men departed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Edwin put his arm round Audrey. "Are you -really afraid? I would not show a white feather -after all he said. Come inside."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The hut was very similar to the one at the entrance -of the gorge, with the customary bed of fern leaves -and thick striped blanket. The men had laid Effie -down upon it, and Cuthbert was kneeling beside her -rubbing her hands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll tell you a secret," he whispered. "Our -Audrey has gone over to the groaners."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, she has not," retorted Edwin. "But once I -heard that Cuthbert was with the criers."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where are we?" asked Effie piteously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Safe in the house that Jack built," said her -brother, wishing to get up a laugh; but it would -not do.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Audrey turned her head away. "Let us try to -sleep and forget ourselves."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Edwin found a horse-rug in the hut, and went out -to throw it over Beauty's back, for the wind was -blowing hard. There was plenty of drift-wood -strewing the shore, and he carefully built up the fire. -Having had some recent experience during the -charcoal-burning, he built it up remarkably well, hoping -the ruddy blaze would comfort Audrey—at least it -would help them to dry their muddy clothes. The -sound of the trampling surf and the roar of the angry -sea seemed as nothing in the gray-eyed dawn which -followed that night of fear.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He found, as he thought, his sisters sleeping; and -sinking down in the nest of leaves which Cuthbert -had been building for him, he soon followed their -example. But he was mistaken: Audrey only closed -her eyes to avoid speaking. She dared not tell him -of their father's peril for fear he should rush off with -the men, urged on by a desperate desire to share it. -"I know now," she thought, "why father charged -him to remain with us."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her distress of mind drowned all consciousness of -their strange surroundings. What was the rising of -the gale, the trampling of the surf upon the sand, or -the dashing of the tumultuous waves, after the fire -and smoke of Tarawera?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Cuthbert started in his dreams, and Edwin -woke with a cry. Shaking himself from the clinging -leaves, now dry as winter hay, he ran out with the -impression some one had called him. It was but the -scream of the sea-gull and the moan of the storm. -It should have been daylight by this time, but no -wintry sun could penetrate the pall-like cloud of -blue volcanic dust which loaded the atmosphere even -there.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It seemed to him as if the sea, by some mysterious -sympathy, responded to the wild convulsions of the -quaking earth. The billows were rolling in towards -him mountains high. He turned from the angry -waves to rebuild his fire.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Did Oscott keep it as a beacon through the night -on the ledge of rock which sheltered his hut from the -ocean breezes? From its position Edwin was inclined -to think he did, although the men in the hurry of -their departure had not exactly said so. By the light -of this fire he could now distinguish the outline of -a tiny bay—so frequent on the western coast of the -island—a stretch of sandy shore, and beyond the -haven over which the rock on which he stood seemed -sentinel, a sheet of boiling foam.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And what was that? A coasting steamer, with -its screw half out of the water, tearing round and -round, whilst the big seas, leaping after each other, -seemed washing over the little craft from stem to -stern.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He flung fresh drift-wood on his beacon-fire until -it blazed aloft, a pyramid of flame. "Audrey dear, -Audrey," he ran back shouting, "get up, get up!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She appeared at the door, a wan, drooping figure, -shrinking from the teeth of the gale. "Is it father?" -she asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Father! impossible, Audrey. We left him miles -away. It is a ship—a ship, Audrey—going down in -the storm," he vociferated.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She clasped her hands together in hopeless despair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cuthbert pulled her back. "You will be blown -into the sea," he cried. "Let me go. Boys like me, -we just love wild weather. I shan't hurt. What is it -brings the downie fit?" he asked. "Tell old Cuth."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is father, dear—it is father," she murmured, -as his arms went round her coaxingly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I know," he answered. "I cried because I could -not help it; but Edwin says crying is no good."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Praying is better," she whispered, buttoning up -his coat a little closer. But what was he wearing?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I got into somebody's clothes," he said, "and -Edwin helped me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is father's short gray coat," she ejaculated, -stroking it lovingly down his chest, as if it were all -she ever expected to see of her father any more.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So much the better," he answered, undaunted. "I -want to be father to-night."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Night!" repeated Edwin, catching up the word, -"How can you stand there talking when there is a -ship going down before our eyes?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cuthbert ran up the rocky headland after his -brother, scarcely able to keep his footing in the -increasing gale. There, by the bright stream of light -flung fitfully across the boiling waves, he too could -see the little vessel tossing among the breakers. An -Egyptian darkness lay around them—a darkness that -might be felt, a darkness which the ruddiest glow of -their beacon could scarcely penetrate.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You talk of night," Edwin went on, as the -brothers clung together, "but it is my belief it has -long since been morning. I tell you what it is, -Cuth: the sun itself is veiled in sackcloth and ashes; -it can't break through this awful cloud."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Young as they were, they felt the importance of -keeping up the fire to warn the steamer off the rocks, -and again they set to work gathering fuel. The men -had said but little about the fire, because they knew -it was close on morning when they departed, and now—yes, -the morning had come, but without the daylight.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Old roots and broken branches drifted in to shore -were strewing the beach. But as the boys were soon -obliged to take a wider circle to collect them, Edwin -was so much afraid of losing his little brother he -dare not let go his hand. Then he found a piece of -rope in the pocket of "father's coat," and tied their -arms together. So they went about like dogs in -leash, as he told Cuthbert. If dogs did their hunting -in couples, why should not they?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meanwhile Audrey, whose heart was in the hills, -was watching landwards from the little window at -the back of the hut. Edwin's pyramid of fire shot -fitful gleams above the roof and beyond the black -shadow of the shanty wall. Beauty, who had never -known the luxury of a stable until he came into the -hands of his new masters, was well used to looking -out for himself. He had made his way round to the -back of the hut, and now stood cowering under the -broad eaves, seeking shelter from the raging blast.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Where the firelight fell Audrey could faintly -distinguish a line of road, probably the one leading to -the mansion. To the left, the wavering shadows cast -upon the ground told her of the near neighbourhood -of a grassy embankment, surmounted by a swinging -fence of wire, the favourite defence of the sheep-run, -so constructed that if the half-wild animals rush -against it the wire swings in their faces and drives -them back. She heard the mournful howling of a -dog at no great distance. Suddenly it changed to -a clamorous bark, and Audrey detected a faint but -far-away echo, like the trampling of approaching -horsemen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She pushed the window to its widest and listened. -Her long fair hair, which had been loosely braided -for the night, was soon shaken free by the raging-winds, -and streamed about her shoulders as she leaned -out as far as she could in the fond hope that some -one was coming.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The knitted shawl she had snatched up and drawn -over her head when she jumped into her father's -arms was now rolled up as a pillow for Effie. She -shivered in the wintry blast, yet courted it, as it blew -back from her the heated clouds of whirling ashes. -Faint moving shadows, as of trees or men, began to -fleck the pathway, and then a band of horsemen, -galloping their hardest, dashed across the open.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Audrey's pale face and streaming hair, framed in -the blackness of the shadowing roof, could not fail to -be seen by the riders. With one accord they shook -the spades they carried in the air to tell their errand, -and a score of manly voices rang out the old-world -ballad,—</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"What lads e'er did our lads will do;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Were I a lad I'd follow him too.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He's owre the hills that I lo'e weel."</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Audrey waved her "God-speed" in reply. With -their heads still turned towards her, without a -moment's pause, they vanished in the darkness. Only -the roll of the chorus thrown back to cheer her, as -they tore the ground beneath their horses' hoofs, rose -and fell with the rage of the storm—</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"He's owre the hills we daurna name,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He's owre the hills ayont Dumblane,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Wha soon will get his welcome hame.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>My father's gone to fecht for him,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>My brithers winna bide at hame,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>My mither greets and prays for them,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And 'deed she thinks they're no to blame.</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>He's owre the hills," etc.</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The last faint echo which reached her listening -ears renewed the promise—</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"What lads e'er did our lads will do;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Were I a lad I'd follow him too.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He's owre the hills, he's owre the hills."</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The voices were lost at last in the howl of the -wind and the dash of the waves on the angry rocks. -But the music of their song was ringing still in -Audrey's heart, rousing her to a courage which was -not in her nature.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She closed the window, and knelt beside the sleeping -Effie with a question on her lips—that question -of questions for each one of us, be our emergency -what it may—"Lord, what wouldest thou have me -to do?" She was not long in finding its answer.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="a-raging-sea"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER VIII.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">A RAGING SEA.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The boys rushed in exclaiming, "Audrey, Audrey! the -ship is foundering! The men are getting -off into the boat, and they can't keep its head to the -sea. She swings round broadside to the waves, and -must be filling. Is there a rope about the hut—anywhere, -anywhere; a long, strong rope, dear Audrey?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>How should she know what was in the hut? But -she knew what was put in the cart: the ropes which -tied the load were there. She had pulled them out -of the shed with the harness herself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Off went Edwin, shouting, "A rope! a rope! a -kingdom for a rope!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cuthbert released himself from the leash, which -was dragging him along too fast, and ran back to his -sister.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did you hear the singing?" she asked. "Did -you see the men ride past? They are gone to the -rescue, Cuth; they are gone to father's help. May -God reward them all."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And will you come to ours?" he said. "Audrey, -you could feed the fire. Edwin and I have got a lot -of wood together. You have only to keep throwing -it on; and then I can help Edwin."</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"'What lads e'er did our lads will do;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Were I a lad I'd follow him too,'"</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>she answered, slipping her shawl from under Effie's -head and tying it once more over her own. They -went out together. Cuthbert helped her up the rock, -pulled a big root in to the front of the fire to make -her a seat, and left her a willing stoker. He had -pointed out the tiny cockle-shell of a boat—a small -dark speck beyond the sheet of boiling foam, with -the hungry, curling waves leaping after it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Could it escape swamping in the outer line of -breakers it could never hope to cross? It was -running before them now. Edwin had put Beauty once -more into the cart, and was carefully knotting the -rope to the back of it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had learned to tie a safety-knot—a sailor's -knot—on their voyage out. Thank God for that! -It whiled away an idle hour at the time; now it -might prove the saving of human creatures' lives. -That the cart was heavy and lumbering and strong -was cause for rejoicing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You and I, Cuth, could not pull a man through -such a sea; but Beauty can. We know how well he -crossed the ford. I shall back him into the water as -far as ever I can, and then jump into the cart and -throw the rope. You see my plan?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I do," said Cuth; "but as soon as you leave go of -Beauty's head he'll come splashing back again out of -the water. You must have me in the cart to hold -his reins."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I dare not," protested Edwin. "A shrimp like you -would be washed out to sea in no time; and I promised -father to take care of you. No, Cuth, you are not -yet ten years old."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am sure I look a good bit older than that, in -father's coat," urged Cuthbert, looking down upon -himself with considerable satisfaction; but Edwin -was inexorable. "Tie me in the cart, then," cried -Cuthbert.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where is the old leash?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was quickly found, and Edwin owned the -thought was a good one.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When all was ready a sudden impulse prompted -them to run back into the hut and look at Erne, and -then up the rock for a final word with Audrey. -They found her already wet with the salt sea spray, -and almost torn to pieces by the wind, but, as Edwin -said, "at it all the same."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The final word was spoken, reiterated, shouted; -who, alas! could hear it in the rage of the storm? -So it came to a snatch of kiss, and away they ran, -leaving Audrey with the impression that the moving -lips were trying to repeat, "Keep us a jolly blaze."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Voice being useless on such a morning, Audrey -made answer by action, and flung her brands upon the -fire with such rapidity that the column of flame rose -higher and higher, flinging its fitful gleams across the -sands, where the boys were busy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The recent voyage had taken away all fear of the -sea even from Cuthbert, who was already tied to the -front of the cart, with Beauty's reins in his hand, -holding him in with all his might. Edwin, with his -teeth set and a white look about his lips, had seized -the horse's head, and was backing him into the water. -Splash, splash into the wall of wave, rising higher -and higher at every step, and almost lifting Edwin off -his feet. Then he swung himself into the cart by -Cuthbert's side. Beauty felt his firmer grasp as the -reins changed hands, and turning his head with a -look in his resolute eye that showed him a willing -partner in the daring plan, he reversed the position, -choosing rather to breast the opposing billows. Edwin -let him have his way, and with a dash and a snort -he plunged into their midst, carrying the boys full -fifteen yards into the raging sea. The brothers clung -to the cart as the waves dashed in their faces. Caps -were gone in a moment. The cart was filling. -Beauty held his head high above the water, and -struggled on another yard or so. Then Edwin felt -they must go no further, and turned the cart round.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was no easy matter to make Beauty stand. His -natural sense of danger, his high intelligence, his -increasing love for the boys, all prompted him to bring -them out of the water, not to stay in it. He was -bent on rushing back to dry ground, as Cuthbert had -predicted. The boys thundered "Whoa, whoa!" with -all the endearing epithets they were wont to lavish -upon him in his stable. He was brought to a stand -at last, and Edwin, raising himself on the side of the -cart, looked round for the boat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was nowhere. His heart sank cold within him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"O Cuth, we are too late, too late!" he groaned.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then Audrey's fire sent up a brighter blaze, and -hope leaped lightly into life once more, and he cried -out joyfully, "I see it!" but stopped abruptly, almost -drawing back his words with bated breath.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The momentary glimpse had shown him the luckless -boat, blown along by the force of the wind, -without the help of an oar, dash into the bursting -crest of a giant roller. It flung the boat across the -line of boiling foam. The men in it, finding their -oars useless, were kicking off their boots, preparing -for a swim. He knew it by their attitudes. He -seized the pole they had put in the cart to use as -a signal. It was a willow sapling, torn up by its -roots, which they had found when they were -gathering the firewood.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cuthbert had peeled off the bark at the thin end, -whilst Edwin had twisted its pliant boughs into a -strong hoop, to tie at the end of his rope.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As Edwin raised it high above his head—a tall, -white wand, which must be conspicuous in the -surrounding darkness—he saw the boat turn over, the -angry waves rush on, and all was gone. A cry of -dismay broke from the brothers' lips: "Lord help us, -or they perish!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I could not have done this without you, Cuth. -We are only two boys, but now is our hour."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Edwin had learned a great deal from the sailors' -stories during their voyage, and he had been a crack -kite-flier on the playground at his English school; so -that he was quite alive to the importance of keeping -his rope free from entanglement, which really is the -vital point in throwing a rope at sea. He had laid it -carefully on the bottom of the cart, fold upon fold, -backwards and forwards, and Cuth had stood upon it -to keep it in place. The hoop lay on the top of the -coil, and to the hoop he had tied the plaid-scarf from -his own neck, to serve it as a sail.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The paralyzing fear came over him now that whilst -they were doing all this the time for help had gone -by. "But we won't stop trying," he said, "if it seems -ever so hopeless; God only knows."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He took his brother's place on the coil of rope, and -unfolding a yard or two, flung the hoop from him, -taking aim at the spot where the boat had capsized. -The wind caught the scarf and bore the hoop aloft; -Edwin let his rope go steadily, fold after fold. Would -it carry it straight? Would the men see his scarf -fluttering in the wind? He felt sure a hand might -catch the hoop if they only saw it. But, alas, it was -so small! He leaned against his brother back to back, -and if the hot tears came it was because he was only -a boy. Cuthbert put a hand behind him. There -was comfort to him in the touch. One burning drop -just trickled on his thumb.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What, you crying!" he exclaimed; "is not praying better?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"God have mercy on us!" burst from Edwin's lips; -and Cuthbert echoed back the gasping words. Had -they ever prayed like that before? All, all that was -in them seemed to pour itself forth in that moment of -suspense, when God alone could hear.</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 74%" id="figure-59"> -<span id="a-perilous-rescue"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="A PERILOUS RESCUE." src="images/img-132.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">A PERILOUS RESCUE.</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>The rope tightened in Edwin's grasp; something -had clutched it at last. The tug had come. Would -his knots give way? He was faint with the fear -that his work was not well done—not strong enough -to stand the strain which he felt was increasing every -moment. It seemed to him, as he watched with every -sense alert and tried to its uttermost, that each -successive earthquake shock, as it heaved the land, sent -a corresponding wave across the sea. One of these -had carried out his hoop, and he knew he must wait -until it subsided to draw his rope in, or it might -snap like pack-thread under the awful strain.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"O Edwin, I am getting so tired!" said little Cuth, -in a tone of such utter exhaustion it went like a -knife through his brother to hear him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Only another minute," he replied; "just another -minute—if we can hold on."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The longed-for lull was coming. Edwin gave -Beauty his head; but the poor horse was stiffened -with standing, and almost refused to move. Then -Edwin tied himself to the cart.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"O Beauty, if you fail us we are done!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The despairing cry roused the torpid energies of -the horse. With a stretch and a snort he tugged -and strained, dragging his load a yard or two -landwards. A man's head appeared above the water. -The joy of the sight brought back hope and -capability. It was but a spasmodic effort; but Beauty -caught the thrill of joy animating the boyish voices, -cheering him on to renewed exertions. The wheels -splashed round in the water; a cloud of muddy spray -rose between Edwin and the rescued man. He could -not see the sailor's face. The fire was dying. Was -all the wood they had gathered—all that great -heap—burnt up at last?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Audrey raked the dying brands together, and a -fresh flame shot upwards, and by its welcome radiance -Edwin was aware of two hands working their way -along the tightened rope, one over the other, towards -the cart.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The tightened rope! Yes; that was proof that -some one had grasped the hoop. In another moment -that stranger hand was clasping Edwin's in the darkness -that was following fast upon those fitful flames.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hold hard!" shouted a stentorian voice, and a -man got up into the cart beside him. A deep-drawn -breath, a muttered prayer, and the strong, powerful -hands clasped over Edwin's, and began to draw in -the rope.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Not a word was said, for the boys had no voice -left to make themselves heard. The last shout of -joy to Beauty had left them spent and faint. The -stranger, surprised at the smallness and feebleness of -the hand he now let go, gently pushed the boy aside -and took his place. Edwin leaned against the front -of the cart beside his brother, dead beat and scarcely -conscious of anything but a halo of happiness -radiating from the blessed consciousness which found -expression in a murmured, "Cuth, old boy, we've done it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The reins fell slack on Beauty's neck, but the good -horse needed no guiding. He seemed aware that two -more men got up into the cart, and when a pause -followed he gave his proud head a triumphant toss, -and brought them up out of the water. There were -three men in the cart and twice as many more -holding on by the rope.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Audrey ran down from the dying fire to meet them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A strange, unnatural kind of twilight, a something -weird and ghastly, belonging to neither day nor night, -seemed to pervade the land, and shed a sepulchral -gleam across the men's pale faces. Audrey pushed -open the door of the hut and beckoned to the sailors -to enter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They gathered round her, shaking the salt water -from their dripping garments, and uttering broken -exclamations of surprise and thankfulness. She saw -a boy in the midst of the group limping painfully. -As she hurried up to his assistance, she discovered -that it was neither Edwin nor Cuthbert; but he -grasped her outstretched hand so thankfully she -could not withdraw it. There was a wildness in the -alarm with which she began to ask them for her -brothers the men could not mistake. They gave the -forlorn girl an almost unanimous assurance that they -knew nothing of her brothers. For the men clinging -to the rope had not seen the boys in the cart. "But," -added one heartily, "we'll protect you, for there is -wild work afoot somewhere to-night. We have heard -the cannonading, broadside after broadside, or we -should not have gone rock-hunting in the dark. It -is fool's work—you can give it no better -name—coasting along a dangerous shore, with a sky too -black for moon or star to penetrate."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yon's the little maid who fed the beacon," said -another. "I saw her move across the front of the -fire and throw her sticks upon it. God bless her! -Every minute I thought we should see her blown -over into the sea."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not me, not me," interposed poor Audrey.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Getting free in her desperation, and pressing -between the sailors, she ran towards Beauty, who was -slowly lagging round to the back of the hut.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If my brothers are missing," she cried, "they -must have been washed out of the cart." She clasped -her hands before her eyes to shut out the sight of -the drowning boys which imagination was picturing, -and so failed to perceive the two weary heads leaning -against the side of the cart. It was but a moment -of agony, one of the unfounded alarms which always -cluster round a real danger and follow the shock of -dread like its shadow.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Edwin, Edwin! where are you?" she cried.—"Cuthbert, -Cuthbert! come to me!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The rocks gave back the hollow echo, "Come to me!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But she did not hear two faint voices feebly -expostulating, "We tied ourselves to the cart, and we -can't undo the knots. We are here, like two galley-slaves -chained to the oars, and we can't get out."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A shock of earthquake sent Beauty with a shiver -of terror straight to the open. The men threw -themselves on their faces, knowing how easily they might -lose their footing on the reeling ground; whilst -Audrey, neglecting this precaution, went over like a -nine-pin.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The hut shook as if its carefully-piled walls were -about to give way, and Audrey, who had seen their -house go down in the beginning of this fearful night, -shrieked out for Effie.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As the tremor subsided, and the sailors gathered -from poor Audrey's broken sentences some idea of -the awful catastrophe on land, they turned from the -hut, judging it safer to remain in the open.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mates were looking out for mates. Were they all -there? Captain, boatswain, cook—not one of the -little coaster's crew was missing. Passengers all -right: a gold-digger from Otago, the schoolboy from -Christchurch. Are all saved? Only the hand which -threw the rope was missing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Who backed the cart into the sea? they asked; and -where was Oscott?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When they learned from Audrey's frantic replies -that every man had gone to the rescue, and the little -fugitives had been left in the hut alone, the sailors' -desire to find the missing boys was as earnest as her own.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They pointed to the cart jogging steadily across -the grassy plain, dotted with sheep, and shaded here -and there by groups of stately trees.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"God bless the young heroes!" they exclaimed. -"Why, there they are—off to the mansion to beg for -tucker for us all."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Audrey, set at rest from this last great fear, escaped -from her questioners, and retreated to Effie and the -empty hut, saying reproachfully,—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How just like Edwin! But they might have -told me what they were going to do."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It seemed a moment's reprieve. There was nothing -more to be done. Audrey sank upon the bed of fern -leaves, weary and wet and worn, unable any longer -to resist the craving for a little sleep.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The sailors lit a fire on the open grass beyond the -hut, and grouped themselves round it to talk and -rest. The poor fellows who had been dragged to -shore, clinging to the rope, found their shoeless feet -cut and bleeding from the sharp edges of the -oyster-shells with which the sands were studded. But when -an hour or more passed by, the sunless noon brought -with it sharper pangs of hunger to them all.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>No cart had returned, no boundary rider had put -in an appearance, and the men began to talk of a -walk over the grass to find the mansion. They were -all agreed as to the best course for them to pursue. -They must turn "sundowners"—the up-country name -for beggars—tramp across to the nearest port, -begging their way from farm to farm. They knew very -well no lonely settler dare refuse supper and a night's -lodging to a party of men strong enough to take by -force what they wanted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The embankment with its swinging fence, the -shepherd's hut where the girls were sleeping, told -them where they were—on the confines of a great -sheep-run. Their route must begin with the owner's -mansion, which could not be very far off, as there -was no food in the hut, and no apparent means for -cooking any, so Audrey had told them. But now the -storm was dying, the captain rose to look round the -hut for himself. He was wondering what to do with -the Christchurch boy he had undertaken to land at -another great sheep-run about twenty-five miles -farther along the coast It was of no use to take -him back with them, a hundred miles the other way. -He hoped to leave him at the mansion. The owner -must be a wealthy man, and would most likely -undertake to put the boy on board the next steamer, which -would pass that way in a week or ten days.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So he called to the boy to go with him, and -explained his purpose as they went. They waked up -Audrey, to ask the owner's name.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Feltham," she answered, putting her hand to her -head to recall her scattered senses; between rabbiters -and sailors she was almost dazed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To be left alone again in that empty hut, without -food, without her brothers, was enough to dismay a -stouter heart than hers. The captain spoke kindly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I want to see you all safe in this sheep-owner's -care before I leave you," he said. "It was stupid in -those brothers of yours to go off with the cart, for -you are too exhausted to walk."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did you ever hear the name of Bowen in these -parts?" asked the Christchurch boy eagerly, nursing -a bleeding foot the while.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Audrey thought of the kind old gentleman in -Ottley's coach, and answered, brightening.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am his grandson," the boy replied. "I am -Arthur Bowen."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="nothing-to-eat"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER IX.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">NOTHING TO EAT.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>As the shock of the earthquake subsided, and -Beauty rallied from his terror, his pace began -to slacken. If Edwin had not tied himself and -Cuthbert so securely in the cart, they might have -been thrown out when Beauty ran away. So the -knots which would not be untied proved their -protection; and now they found themselves trotting -leisurely through verdant stretches, dotted with ti -tree and blue-gum, and overgrown with toi and flax -and rushes. Before them rose the great gates of the -avenue leading to the central station-house. The -white front of Feltham's mansion gleamed through -the tall stems of the trees which surrounded it; -whilst beyond and around them were the sheds and -walls, the pools and bridges, comprising stock-yards -and shearing-places, where thousands of wild cattle -and tens of thousands of wilder sheep were washed -and dipped, and counted and branded, year after year.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The ingenious arrangement of pool and paddock -and pen by which this gigantic undertaking is safely -accomplished looked to the boys like a wooden village.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Beauty drew up at the friendly gate of his own -accord, attracted by the welcome sounds of human -life as stockmen and shepherds hurried out to their -morning work. Half the hands were off to the hills; -the remaining half found in consequence the more -to do. The poor terrified cattle had suffered -considerably. Sheep were cast in every ditch. Cows -had gored each other in their mad terror; and broken -fences told of wild leaps and escaped bulls to be -sought for in the neighbouring bush.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The boundary rider, whose sole duty is to parade -the vast domain and give notice at headquarters of -unwary gaps and strays, had been spurring hither -and thither, delayed by the gloom of the morning -and the herds of wild bulls which had broken in, -while the tame had broken out. With demolished -fences, and frightened sheep dying around them by -hundreds, the little fugitives in Oscott's hut had been -forgotten.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But when the boundary rider saw a cart at his -master's gate, blue with volcanic mud above, and -dripping from below with the slime of the sea, he -thought of the family from the hills waiting -somewhere for the breakfast he was to have carried in his -saddle-bag. His circuit was but half completed. -"I shall find them yet," he said to himself, as he -galloped up behind the cart. He saw the dangling -rope, and the white faces of the two boys huddled -together in a state of complete exhaustion. He tied -his horse to the gate, and jumping into the cart, -rattled Beauty up the avenue to his master's door, -which stood wide open to all comers. For every -hour brought fresh rumours, and fresh parties of -fugitives who had fled precipitately from their homes -when the storm of mud began.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He took his knife from his pocket and cut the -rope which tied Edwin and his brother to the cart. -Some one ran out with a cup of coffee, which he -poured down their throats, and then the boys began -to revive. He wanted to take them in-doors and put -them to bed. But the relief-party had already sent -down so many sufferers from the hills every bed was -full of children, women, and even men, who had been -dug out of the muddy stream in which they were -suffocating.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As soon as Edwin could speak, he added his story -to the others, entreating the men who turned their -heads to listen, as they hurried in and out, to send -some food to his sisters, who were left alone in Oscott's -hut. As for the sailors, the feeling among Feltham's -people was decided: any one not from the hills must -be left to take care of himself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Just then a horseman, covered with mud and foam, -came spurring towards the house, shouting to the -crowd around the door,—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I've come for every man on the ground, by the -master's orders. Leave everything. Bring your -spades, and follow me. The nearer we get to -Tarawera the thicker lies the mud. Our government -station at Rotorua is buried beneath it, church and -all. Te Ariki and Maura are nowhere to be seen. -The low whares in the Maori pahs are utterly -destroyed. Wherever the roofs have been strong enough -to uphold the weight of the falling mud, the inhabitants -are alive beneath them now. Come to the rescue—come!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The last hoarse words were scarcely audible. The -boundary rider took the unfinished cup from Edwin's -lips and passed it to the man, and the boy was glad -that he did so.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A cry of "Spades! spades!" rang through the -increasing group of listeners, which seemed to gather -and disperse with equal rapidity. Mrs. Feltham made -her way through the midst to the bell-tower, and -rang a frantic peal to call all hands together. Horses -were saddling; men were mounting; others were -hurrying up to learn the meaning of the hasty -summons. Edwin drew his cart aside under the trees to -watch the departure.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Feltham reappeared on her doorstep with -knife and loaf, trying to fill every pocket with bread -before each one rode off. She could not make her -intention understood. The men, in their impatience -to be gone, would hardly stop to take it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh," thought Edwin, "they forget they will want -it all to give away."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He leaned over his brother. "Cuth, take the -reins." But Cuth's numbed hands let them drop. Edwin -twisted them round his arm, and with a nod and a -smile made his way to Mrs. Feltham.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His voice was so weak and faint she could not hear -what he said, but the ready hand was offering to pass -on the great hunches of bread she was cutting, and -she kept him at work, little dreaming how he had to -turn his head away again and again to resist the -impulse to take a bite by the way. As he took the -last crust from her, and saw that it was the last, a -sudden faintness overcame him, and he dropped on -the stones at her feet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am so very, very hungry," he said piteously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why did not you tell me that before the basket -was empty?" she retorted. "You must remember, my -boy, every bit of food for man and beast must be -buried under this dreadful mud for miles and miles. -I may have a famishing army round me before night, -and how am I to feed them all? Not a crumb must -be wasted. If you are so hungry, go into the kitchen -and clear up the scraps on the men's plates. I would -turn all the flour in the granary into bread, and feed -you every one, if I had only hands to make it and -bake it. Stop," she went on; "though you are a boy -you could be of some use. You could wash and boil -a copperful of potatoes and pumpkins; that would be -something to set before the starving cart-loads I hope -and trust they will be successful in saving."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, ma'am," answered Edwin. "I must go back -to my sisters. I have left them alone with a lot -of rough sailors."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His "no" was round and resolute.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She took out her purse, saying almost coaxingly, -"Here is a week's wage for a day's work."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am very sorry, Mrs. Feltham, but I really can't -stay," he persisted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She turned away with an impatient gesture and -went in-doors.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She takes me for some unlucky beggar," thought -Edwin, crawling round to the kitchen door, glad to -avail himself of the somewhat ungracious permission -to look out for the scraps. "It is dog's fare," thought -Edwin, "but it is more to me than her gold." He -found a piece of newspaper, and walked round and -round the long breakfast-table, collecting into it such -morsels as he could find. Of most of the dishes the -hungry young shepherds had made a clean sweep. -Still there were some unfinished crusts of bread, a -corner of Melton pie, a rasher of bacon burned in the -grilling. On the dresser he discovered a bone of -mutton, evidently laid aside for the hounds. He -would not touch the sugar in the basin, or take a -peep at the contents of the cupboards, feeling himself -on his honour. The sounds within convinced him -Mrs. Feltham and the rest of her household were hard -at work transforming the hospitable mansion into a -temporary hospital, for the reception of the poor -unfortunates who might be dug out alive but scarcely -uninjured.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"O Cuth, we haven't been the worst off by a long -way!" exclaimed Edwin suddenly, as the brothers sat -together in their cart, enjoying their bone of mutton, -quite in the doggie line, but, as Cuthbert averred, -feeling themselves, as they ate, like new-made men.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then they turned Beauty homewards. Yes, that -queer little shanty was a kind of home. It was still -dark as in a London fog, but the shocks of earthquake -were less, fainter and farther apart.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Half-way down the road they met the party of -sailors, walking barefoot on the edge of the grass. -They did not recognize the boys, but stopped to ask -the way to the central station.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We have just been there to beg for food," said -Edwin, feeling it quite "infra dig" to acknowledge the -condition in which they reached Mrs. Feltham's gate. -"But," he added drearily, "we could not get it. Not -enough for you all."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then he hurried on to explain the tidings from the -hills and the general stampede to the rescue.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Turn back," urged the captain, "and give us a lift."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lend us the cart," added Arthur Bowen. "If any -harm should come to it, grandfather will pay you for -it; and as for the horse, he will get a good feed of -corn in Feltham's stable. I will see after him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Edwin was not sure he ought to trust the horse -and cart with strangers, but the prospect of a good -feed of corn for Beauty went a long way; for he had -nothing for the horse to eat but the winter grass -around the hut. Down he jumped.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If there are so many men at this station," the -sailors were saying, "maybe they can find us an old -pair of shoes; and if strong arms are in request, we -are ready to take our turn."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They shook hands all round.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good-bye, my lads, good-bye. It was a brave act -to back that cart into the sea, and you'll take a sailor's -blessing with you to your home, wherever it is. If -there is anything washed ashore from the little craft, -you'll store it up high and dry until another coaster -calls to fetch it away."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The promise was given on both sides. Edwin -would find his Beauty safe at Feltham's, and the -captain his wreckage piled against the back of Oscott's -hut, although they might both be miles away when -the two were reclaimed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Edwin took Cuthbert's hand in his and walked on -in grave silence. One thing was clear—nobody would -have time or thought to care for them. They must -just look out for themselves.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is playing at Robinson Crusoe in earnest, we -four in that little hut," said Cuthbert. "He did lots -of things to make himself comfortable, but then he -was a man."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It won't be for long," added Edwin. "I hardly -think we shall see father to-night, but he may be -back to-morrow. If we could only find something to -eat. Whero and his mother lived on nuts and berries -after the muru, but then it was autumn."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They sank again into silence. The barking of the -boundary dog warned them they were near the hut, -and when it died away to a low growl they -distinguished a faint, soft murmur of singing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, hush!" they exclaimed. "Oh, listen! It is -the girls; that is Audrey."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It put fresh life into the weary feet as they heard -it clearer and clearer—</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"Hark, hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings."</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"Heaven's gate," repeated the boys: it was the only -word they could distinguish.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Heaven's gate. It is a word to comfort us, for -that is never shut," added Edwin, as they stumbled -against an uprooted ti tree. The long, tapering stem, -with its waving plume of feathery leaves, barred their -progress. Cuth was about to climb over it, for the -hard brown trunk at its base was six feet round; but -Edwin ran off to examine its leafy crown, where the -cabbage which gave the tree its name should lie hidden.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He parted the yard-long leaflets, and felt a something -tall and crisp growing up in their midst.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A shout of glee brought Cuth to his assistance. -They pulled the pliant boughs to this side and that, -and perceived what looked to them like a coil of white -ribbon, as thick and as long as a man's arm. Was -this the cabbage of which they had heard so much, -for the sake of which the lordly tree was so often -cut down and destroyed?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They tore off one of the ribbon-like flakes and -tasted it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cuth declared it was like eating almonds, only not -so hard.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But how can we cut it without a knife?" cried -Edwin, munching away at the raw flakes in his fingers, -and pronouncing them a right good feed for them all, -if they could but cut the cabbage out.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There might be a knife in the hut, who could say. -Away they rushed to explore, guided through the -tangle of flax and rushes by their sisters' voices.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The girls were sitting on the bed of fern in an -abandonment of despair, scarcely daring to believe -their own ears when the refrain of their song was -caught up and repeated—</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"With everything that pretty is,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>My ladies sweet, arise."</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"O Edwin, Edwin!" they exclaimed. "We thought -you too had vanished."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We could not bear ourselves," said Effie, "so we -took to singing. We feared we were left to starve -on our bed of leaves, like the 'Children in the Wood,' -and we were afraid there was not a robin redbreast -anywhere here to cover us up."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, but there is a robin blackbreast," retorted -Edwin; "a true-born native, all the fitter for the -undertaker's work. Only it is not going to be done -to-night, Dame Trot." He took the wee white face -between his hands, and felt so strong, so vigorous, so -determined to take care of it somehow. "I am not -going away again, Effie." He pulled the newspaper -parcel out of his pocket and tossed it into Audrey's -lap. "Beggars' crumbs!" he laughed. But her cold, -nerveless fingers seemed incapable of untwisting the -paper.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hands were made before forks!" cried Cuthbert, -pushing in between his sisters, "and I've often heard -that pie-crust is made to be broken, like promises. -I can spy a bill-hook in the corner, a little too big for -cutting up a pie, but just the thing to chop the cabbage -out of a ti tree."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Edwin spun round and shouldered it in triumph.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There goes smash to the promise: he is off again -as fast as he can go. And now for the second breakage. -You must not mind my dirty pads for once, Audrey," -Cuthbert went on, pulling the pie into two pieces and -making his sisters eat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The slender store in the newspaper would be soon -exhausted. Cuthbert, like a provident commissariat -officer, was anxious to make the most of it. He laid -aside the bacon to eat with Edwin's cabbage, and -piled up the mutton-bones for their solitary neighbour, -the boundary dog, who, like themselves, had been -breakfasting on broken promise.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Audrey had recovered herself in some measure by -the time Edwin returned with his spoils.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who'll buy? who'll buy?" he shouted; "yards -upon yards of vegetable ribbon, white and delicate -enough to make the wedding favours for the queen of -cooks."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, don't talk about cooking," put in Cuthbert; -"it is so nice, let us eat it as it is."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So down they sat, breaking off flake after flake -until they were satisfied. As hunger diminished -speech returned, and Audrey, who had scarcely uttered -a word whilst Edwin went over all they had heard -and seen at Mrs. Feltham's, became suddenly animated. -A thought had struck her, but she hesitated to -propose her plan too abruptly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dears," she said earnestly, looking round at the -other three, "father will not come back to us perhaps -for a day or two; it may even be a week. Think of -our own escape. Think if one of us had been buried -in that awful mud. How should we be feeling now? -Whilst there is another life to be saved father will -not come away—no, not for our sakes, and we must -not wish that he should."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Even Effie answered, "Oh no, we must not."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then," continued Audrey, still more earnestly. -"what are we going to do?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That is a poser," retorted Edwin. "The storm -brought down the ti tree, and that gave us the -cabbage. The gale is dying. We had better take a walk -round and look about us. We may find something -else. Heaven's gate is open still, Audrey. We must -bear this as patiently as we can, and help will come."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, dears," she answered, "if you can be patient -here a little longer, I think there is something I can -do to help us all."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You, Audrey?" exclaimed her brothers; "you are -as white as a sheet. Let us do; we are twice as -strong as you are."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Strength is not everything," she returned quietly. -"There are some things which only a girl can do. -Now this is my plan. If Edwin will walk with me -to the central station, I will ask Mrs. Feltham to let -me help her. I will go for so much a day, and then -at night when she pays me I may persuade her to -sell me some flour and meat and tea, food enough for -us all, dears."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Go out like a charwoman, Audrey!" exclaimed -Edwin, in amazement. "Is that what you mean?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, yes," returned Audrey, in a considering tone, -"it certainly would be the same thing, if you like to -call it so."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Of old men called a spade a spade,'" grumbled -Edwin. "I like to give things their plain names, -and then we know where we are."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If little Mother Audrey goes out charing, Cuth -will poison himself, and then there will be no more -food wanting for him. That Mrs. Feltham looked as -cross as two sticks," declared Cuthbert.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Just listen to these proud young gentlemen," -retorted Audrey. "Erne, my dear, I turn to you to -support me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll do as you do," returned her little sister, -laying her head on her shoulder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not quite so fast, Dame Trot," interposed Edwin. -"But if Audrey marches home at night with a bag of -flour on her back, you must make it into Norfolk -dumplings. Cuthbert and I, it seems, are good for -nothing but to eat them."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You ridiculous boys, why can't you be serious?" -said Audrey, adding, in an aside to Edwin, "Erne is -too ill to exist on your vegetable ribbon, even if we -boil it. Well, is not my plan better—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Than robin blackbreast and the burying business? -Of course, you have shut me up," he answered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So the decision was reached. Audrey untied her -bundle. Combs and brushes, soap and towels, a -well-worn text-book, a little box of her own personal -treasures, all knotted up in one of Effie's pinafores. -What a hoard of comfort it represented!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That is a notice to quit for you and me, Cuth," -remarked Edwin. "We'll take the boundary dog his -bones, and accommodate our honest charwoman with -a pailful of sea-water to assist the toilet operations."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The storm had died away as suddenly as it rose, -and the receding waves had left the shelving sands -strewn with its debris—uprooted trees, old hats, and -broken boards, fringed with seaweed. A coat was -bobbing up and down, half in the water and half out, -while floating spars told of the recent wreck. A keg -sticking in the sand some feet below high-water mark -attracted the boys' attention, for Edwin was mindful -of his promise to the sailors. As they set to work to -roll it up, they came upon the oysters sticking -edgeways out of the sand, and clinging in clusters to the -rocks. With a hurrah of delight they collected a -goodly heap. Here was a supper fit for a king.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-maori-boy"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER X.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE MAORI BOY.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The bath of sea-water which Edwin had provided -in the shepherd's pail did more than anything -else to restore poor Effie. When the arduous task of -opening the oysters was at last accomplished, by the -aid of a great clasp nail and a splinter of stone, the -abundant and nourishing meal which followed did -them all so much good, Cuthbert and Effie declared -they did not mind being left alone in the hut half as -much as when father left them by the charcoal fires. -They all wanted Audrey to wait until morning, but -her answer was resolute.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, dears; the chance might be gone. It is just -when the men come back from the hills Mrs. Feltham -will want me. They may come in the middle of the -night. Nobody knows when, and if I am there, at -least I shall hear what they say. Perhaps they will -have been with father, and bring us a message."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This reconciled them all to her departure. Then -she hurried away with Edwin by her side, for fear -the dark wintry day should close before she reached -her destination.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Edwin guessed the distance to be about four miles; -but they were in poor order for walking, and were -reduced to halting by the wayside continually. Yet, -as the snail got to the top of the wall at last, so they -reached the avenue gates. Here they agreed to part. -There was no more danger of Audrey losing herself, -and both were uneasy at leaving Effie and Cuthbert -alone so long.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>During the walk they had talked over everything, -which Audrey declared was the greatest comfort -imaginable. Edwin did not want to go up to the house -to fetch his Beauty.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I shall come for him to-morrow," he said; "then -I can tell you how Effie is, and we shall hear how -you are getting on."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The shades of night were gathering as Edwin -turned away; but he could not lose the white line -of well-made road by which he was returning even -by starlight, yet he was afraid of encountering any -of the wild cattle, which he knew were roaming at -will among the groves and coverts which surrounded -him. He found himself a stick, and trudged along, -whistling to keep his courage up.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was a danger to which he was altogether -unaccustomed; for there is no four-footed creature -native to New Zealand bigger than a rat, and in the -primeval forest which surrounded his home the -absence of all animal life is its marked characteristic. -But here the many horses and bulls which had strayed -from the early colonists had multiplied in the bush -and grown formidable, not to speak of the pigs which -Captain Cook let loose on the New Zealand shore, -and which now, like the rabbits, overrun the island. -The sound of grunting in the midst of a flax-bush or -the bleat of a bell-wether was enough to startle him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The hoar was gathering white on the grass and -sparkling like diamonds on shrivelled fronds and -gloomy evergreens, when he heard the barking of the -boundary dog, which told him he was nearing the -hut, and his weary feet jogged on at a quicker pace.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The barking grew still more furious. A battle -was going forward. Instead of turning off towards -the sea to find the hut, Edwin ran on to the point of -the road where it entered another sheep-run. As it -was the public coast-road, there was no gate. The -dog was stationed there, with a chain long enough to -command the whole breadth of the road, to keep the -sheep from straying on to their neighbour's ground, -and well he did his work. He seemed to know in -a moment to which side the adventurous rover -belonged who dared to intrude on his beat, and sent -him home with a resolute bark and a snap of the -wool just to show how easily biting could follow. -But the cry which succeeded the onslaught of the -dog, the cry which made Edwin turn aside, was so -like the cry of a child that it shot a fear through -him Cuthbert might have been tempted to pay the -dog another visit, and having no more bones to give -him, the hungry brute had seized poor Cuth instead.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As Edwin came up he could just distinguish a -small figure on the other side of the boundary vainly -endeavouring to pass. It must be Cuth, he argued, -because there was nobody else about; so he shouted -to him to stand still until he came up. But instead -of obeying, the small figure darted forward once more, -and a fearful yell told Edwin the dog had seized him -at last.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He sprang towards them, and grasping the dog's -collar with both hands, exerted all his strength to -pull him off. Strong and savage as the hairy hermit -had become from the loneliness of his life, he had all -a dog's grateful remembrance of a kindness, and -recognizing the hand which had flung him the welcome -bone earlier in the day, he suffered Edwin to choke -him off without turning on him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Run!" cried Edwin to the boy he had delivered; -"run beyond his reach whilst I hold him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had no need to repeat his exhortation. The -shrieking boy fled like the wind. It was not -Cuthbert; Edwin knew that by the fleetness of his -hare-like speed. He did his best to soothe and coax the -angry dog, keeping his eye meanwhile on the -retreating figure.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As the distance between them increased, Edwin let -the dog go. The fugitive changed his course, and -was circling round to regain the road. Then Edwin -started at right angles, and so got between him and -the hut, where Effie and Cuthbert were probably asleep.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They will be so frightened," thought Edwin, "if -he runs in for refuge. For poor little Eff's sake I -must stop him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So they came up face to face in the open ground -beyond the black shadow of the boundary, and eyed -each other in the starlight.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Whero!" exclaimed Edwin.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, you!" cried the Maori boy, holding out both -hands. "To meet you is good."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come in with me and rest," continued Edwin. -"Are you hurt? It was madness to try to pass the -boundary dog in the dark. He might have torn you -to pieces."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Out spoke the young savage, "I would have killed -him first."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no," interposed Edwin. "He is set there as -a sentinel to keep the sheep from straying; he only -did his duty."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I," repeated Whero—"am I a sheep, to be made to -fear? All the goblins in Lake Taupo should not turn -me back to-night. I heard men saying in Tauranga -streets the sacred three had shot forth the lightning -that made all faces pale last night and laid the tall -trees low. Are not they the men from whom I spring -who are sleeping the death-sleep in their bosom? -Last night they awakened; they are angry. The -thunder of their voices is louder than the cannon of -the pakeha. Why are they calling? I know not; -but I answer I am theirs. I leaped out of the window -of my school, and ran as the water runs to the sea. -No one could catch me, for I thought of my father -and mother; and I said in my heart, 'Will the anger -of the majestic ones fall upon the son of Hepé, or -upon those who have despoiled him?'"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Edwin drew his arm within his dusky friend's. -"It is not the dead men's bones which are buried on -Tarawera but the hidden fires which have burst from -the mountain which have done the mischief. Our -house went down in the shock of the earthquake, -and we fled from it for our lives to the sea."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I took the coast-road," continued Whero, "for the -coach was turned back. Trees lay everywhere in its -path; and no man knows more than I have told you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Edwin trembled for Whero, for he remembered -how the men had said the low whares of the natives -were completely buried.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Wait with us," he entreated; "wait for the -daylight."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As he began to describe the strangeness of the -disaster which had overwhelmed the district, the -ready tears of the Maori race poured down in torrents -from Whero's eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Edwin led him into the hut; and finding Cuthbert -and Effie fast asleep, the two lowered their voices, -and sitting side by side in the starlight, went over -again the startling story until voices grew dreamy, -and Edwin became suddenly aware that the eager -listener reclining at his elbow was lost in forgetfulness. -Then he too laid down his head and gained a -respite from his cares and fears in the deep sweet -sleep of healthy boyhood.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Effie was the first to awaken. A solitary sunbeam -had made its way through the tiny window, and was -dancing along the opposite wall. The rest of the -hut was in shadow. She did not see Edwin with -Whero nestling by his side, for the long fern fronds -rose in heaps around her; but she heard a sound -from the road, and called joyously to Cuthbert,—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Get up; there is somebody coming."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cuth tumbled to his feet; Edwin started upright. -They were rushing to the door, when Whero lifted -a black hand and commanded silence. His quicker -sense of hearing had already told him of men and -horses near at hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Effie eyed him in mute amazement. "Look," she -whispered at last, pointing to Whero's head, "there is -a big boy-rat rustling in the leaves."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hush! listen!" cried her brothers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is it father?" she asked, in a flutter of fear and -expectation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The boys ran out, elate with a similar hope. -But Edwin saw in a moment there was only a party -of shepherds returning for supplies. They scarcely -waited to listen to his eager questions.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Can't stop," they shouted. "But the worst is -over. All are going back to their farms. You will -have your own people coming to look you up before -long. You are safest where you are for the present."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Their words were intended to reassure the boys—Edwin -was certain of that; but their faces were so -grave, they seemed to contradict the comforting -assertion that the worst was over.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I must hear more," cried Edwin. "I'll run after -them and ask if any one has seen father."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The tired horses were walking slowly; one or two -seemed to have fallen lame, and all were covered -with mud.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We shall soon overtake them," thought Edwin; -but Whero outstripped him in the chase. The shepherds -looked back. One amongst their number halted, -and shouted the inquiry, "What now?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did you reach the lake in the hills? How is it -there?" burst forth Whero.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Up among the natives?" answered the shepherd, -not unkindly. "Nobody knows. We did not get -beyond the road, and we found enough to do. The -mud fell so thick every door and window was blocked -in no time, and many a roof fell in with the weight. -Everything around the mountain lies buried deep in mud."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The shriek, the howl in which poor Whero vented -his alarm so startled the shepherd's horse it galloped -off at a mad rate towards the mansion, just as -Edwin came up, pale and panting. But Whero's -English was scattered. He could only reiterate the -man's last words, "Deep in mud; buried, all buried -deep in mud," and then he ran on in Maori.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Edwin and Cuthbert looked at each other in despair. -It was impossible to understand what he was -evidently trying to explain.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You wooden boys!" he exclaimed at last, as he -turned away in disgust, and raced off like a hare -towards the mansion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cuthbert was wild to follow, when a large merino -ram bounded out of a group of palm trees and knocked -him over.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Go back to Effie," urged Edwin, "and I'll watch -by the roadside, for somebody else may pass."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Cuthbert could not find his way alone, and -the brothers retraced their steps. As they drew near -the hut, the loud barking of the boundary dog was -again heard. Somebody might be coming by the -coast-road, somebody who could tell them more.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was the boundary rider from the neighbouring -run, waiting and watching for the appearance of his -neighbour, to ascertain if any tidings had yet been -received from the lonely mountain wilds. All knew -now some dread catastrophe had overwhelmed the -hills. Confused rumours and vague conjectures were -flying through the district beyond the reach of the -muddy rain. Earth-slips and fallen trees blocked -every road. The adventurous few who had made -their way to the scene of the disaster had not yet -returned.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Far as his eye could see across the grassy sweep -not a shepherd was moving. Feltham's sheep were -straying by hundreds in his master's run. Then the -two boys came in sight, and arms were waved to attract -attention; and the burning anxiety on both sides found -vent in the question, "Any news from the hills?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As Edwin poured forth the story of their flight, -another horseman was seen spurring across the open. -It was a messenger Mr. Bowen had despatched the -day before, to inquire among the shepherd hermits in -Feltham's outlying huts, who might, who must know -more than their seaside neighbours. But the man -had ridden on from hut to hut, all alike empty and -deserted. About nightfall, at the extreme end of the -run, he came upon a man who had been struck down -by the awful lightning, who told a rambling tale of -sudden flight before the strange storm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So," said the shepherd, "I rested my horse, and -determined to ride round to the central station, or go -on from farm to farm, to find out all I could; but a -trackless swamp stretched before me. Turning aside, -I fell in with a party of Feltham's men, who had -made their way by the river-bank as far as the -government road. They were returning for a cart -to bring off one of their number, who had been -knocked on the head by a falling tree, trying to make -his way through the bush."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who was it?" asked Edwin breathlessly, his -brief colloquy with the horsemen he had passed full -in his mind. They were the same men, but not a -word as to the accident to one of the relief-party had -crossed their lips.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The significance of their silence flashed upon him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is father!" he exclaimed, "and they would -not tell us."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, Edwin, no," interposed little Cuth, with wide-eyed -consternation. "Why do you say it is father?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, indeed," repeated Mr. Bowen's man. "I -tell you it was a near neighbour of the fordmaster's, -who had come across to his help before the others -got up. For Hirpington and his people were all -blocked in by the weight of mud jamming up -windows and doors, and were almost suffocated; but -they got them out and into the boat when the others -came. One man rowed them off to the nearest place -of refuge, and the others went on to look for the -roadmen in their solitary huts."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Every word the man let fall only deepened Edwin's -conviction.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He grasped Cuth's hand. Was this what Whero -had tried to tell him?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The doubt, the fear, the suspense was unbearable. -Their first impulse was to run after the shepherds, to -hear all they had to tell. But the Bowen men held -them back; and whilst they questioned Edwin more -closely, Cuthbert sat down crying on the frosted grass. -The boundary dog came up and seated itself before -him, making short barks for the bone that was no -longer to be had for the asking. The noise he made -led the men to walk their horses nearer to the hut, -when the debris of the wreck, scattered about the -sands, met their eyes. That a coaster should have -gone down in the terrific storm was a casualty -which the dwellers by the sea-shore were well -prepared to discover. They kicked over the half-buried -boots and broken spars, looking for something which -might identify the unfortunate vessel, and they -brought Edwin into court once again, and questioned -him closely. He assured them the sailors were all -safe, and when they heard how they had borrowed -his father's horse and cart to take them across to the -central station, they only blamed him for his -stupidity in not having asked the captain's name.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, it was stupid," Edwin owned, "but then I -did not know what I was doing."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The sound of their voices brought Effie to the door -of the hut, and they heard a little piping voice -behind repeating, "Bowen, please sir; his name was -Bowen."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What! the captain's?" they cried.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, the schoolboy's," she persisted, shrinking -from the cold sea-breeze blowing her hair into her -eyes, and fluttering her scant blue skirt, and banging -at the door until it shut again, in spite of her utmost -efforts to keep it open.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Here was a discovery of far more importance in -the estimation of Mr. Bowen's men than all the rest.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If that is our young master Arthur," they said, -"coming up for the holidays, we must find him, let -alone everything else. We must be off to the central -station; and as for these children, better take them -along with us."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This was just what Edwin wanted. After a reassuring -word to Effie anent the black boy-rat, he set -himself to work piling up the wreckage, with the -care of one about to leave the place.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had not forgotten Hal's charge to stay where -he left them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But better be lost than starved," said the men; -and he agreed with them. Even Audrey had failed -to send them food to that far-off hut. It was clear -there was no one to bring it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You should have gone with the sailors," said the -boundary rider. "You must go with us."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He wrapped the flap of his coat over Effie as -Edwin lifted her on to his knee, and his comrade -called to Cuthbert, who was hoisted up behind him; -and so they set forth, Edwin walking in the rear.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As the horses trotted onwards across the -fern-covered downs, the distance between them steadily -increased, for the boy was tired. Once or twice he -flung himself down to rest, not much caring about -losing sight of his companions, as he knew the way.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Edwin had nearly reached the gate of the avenue, -when he saw Whero scampering over the grass on -Beauty's back.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a mutual shout of recognition; and -Whero turned the horse's head, exclaiming,—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lee! Boy! Lee! Wanderer Lee! have you lost -your horse? I went to beg bread at the station, and -he leaped over the stable-bar and followed me. You -must give him back, as you said you would, for how -can I go to the hills without him? I want him now."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And so do I," answered Edwin; "I want to go -back with the shepherds to father."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The men who spoke to us are gone. I saw them -start," returned Whero. "But jump up behind me, -and we will soon overtake them."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For one brief moment Edwin looked around him -doubtfully. But Erne and Cuthbert were safe with -Audrey by this time, and he was sure Mr. Bowen, -"the old identity," their kind-hearted travelling -companion, would take good care of all three as soon as -he heard of their forlorn condition. "His grandson -will tell him how Cuth and I pulled him through the -surf. I had better ride back to the hills with Whero, -and see if it is safe for us to go home. They may -have taken father there already, and then I know he -will want me." So Edwin reasoned as he sprang up -behind the Maori boy. "And if I don't go with -him," he added, "we may lose our horse, and then -what would father say to that?"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="widespread-desolation"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XI.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">WIDESPREAD DESOLATION.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>As the boys rode onward a sharp and bracing -wind blew in their faces. The hoar still lay -on the grass, and the many pools at which the sheep -were accustomed to drink were coated with ice. But -the mysterious darkness of the preceding day was -over, and the sun shone forth once more to gild a -desolated world.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Whero and Edwin were alike anxious to avoid -meeting any of Mr. Feltham's shepherds who might -have returned to their daily work, for fear they should -try to stop them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Whero, with something of his father's skill, shot -forward with a reckless disregard for the safety of -Edwin's neck. But the party they were pursuing -were long out of sight.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As they reached the confines of the sheep-run, an -unnatural grayness overspread the landscape. Yet -on they went, encountering clouds of dust with every -breeze. The blades of grass beneath the horse's hoofs, -the leaves rustling on the boughs, were all alike -loaded with it. But the cattle were still grazing, -and despite the clouds of dust constantly rising, the -atmosphere above was clear; and the sunshine cheered -their spirits.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We will not turn back," said Edwin.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They knew, by what the shepherds had told them, -the force of the eruption had expended itself; that -danger was over. When the boys ascended higher -ground and gained a wider view, they could -distinguish parties of men marching up in every direction, -with their spades on their shoulders. For now the -personal danger was diminished, the anxiety to -ascertain the fate of the unfortunate people living near -the sacred heights of Tarawera predominated.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Above the range of hills there was a dense bank -of steam, which rose like a wall of snowy white, -extending for miles. Whero shook with terror at the -sight, but Edwin urged him on. They had missed -the shepherds, but they could soon overtake the men -now in sight. Yet the longer they gazed at the huge -mass of vapour, the more impenetrable it seemed. It -was drifting slowly northwards, where it merged in -another cloud, black and restless, like smoke. It was -but the work of the winds, stirring the vast deposit -of dust covering hill and forest.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Changed as the face of the country appeared to be, -Whero seemed able to track his way with something -of the unerring instinct of the hound. Emboldened -by Edwin's steadier courage, on he went, the gray, -drab tint of the volcanic debris deepening around -them at every step, until it lay nine inches deep on -the ground, covering up all trace of vegetation. The -poor cattle wandering in the fields were here -absolutely without food, and the blue waters of the -liquid rivulets were changed to a muddy brown, thick -and repulsive. Every footfall of the horse enveloped -his riders in so dense a cloud that eyes were stinging -and voices choking, until they began to exchange this -dry deposit for the treacherous, deadly mud which -had preceded it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This soon became so thick and sticky poor Beauty -could scarcely drag his legs out again, and their pace -grew slower and slower. The time was going fast; -they had scarcely gained a mile in an hour. They -dare not turn aside to view the ruins of Edwin's home. -As they went deeper and deeper into the bush, the -blue mud lay fifteen inches thick on all around. The -unrivalled beauty of the forest was gone. The boys -could see nothing but a mass of dirt-laden tree -trunks, bending and falling beneath the weight of -their burden. Every leaf was stripped off, and every -branch was broken short. It was a scene of -desolation so intense Whero set up a wild wail of -lamentation. All was taken from the Maori when the wealth -of the bush was gone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They gained the road; the mud was two feet thick -at least, and Beauty sank knee-deep in the sulphurous, -steaming slime. How they got him out again they -hardly knew. They backed him amongst the trees, -seeking the higher ground. Fresh mud-holes had -opened in unexpected places, and old ones had enlarged -to boiling pools, and wide areas of smouldering ashes -marked the site of the many fires the lightning had -kindled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Could the boys have extricated themselves just -then, they might have been tempted to turn back in -sheer dismay. They were forced from the line which -Whero had hitherto pursued with the directness -which marks the flight of the crow. The trees were -quivering with an earthquake shock. The hill was -trembling visibly beneath their feet. Guided by a -break in the trees, they made their way to the open. -Once more the bank of cloud was visible, drifting -slowly to the north; but Whero's eyes were fastened -on the distance, where he knew the lofty Tarawera -reared its threefold crest.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Had the mighty chieftains of renown arisen from -their graves and built a wall of luminous vapour -around their sleeping-place? He quailed in abject -terror at the sight of the clouds, like ramparts rising -into the air for thousands of feet, and veined with -wavy lines that glowed and shimmered with the -reflection of the flames they held enshrined.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If the arrows of their lightnings burst forth upon -us," shrieked Whero, "how shall such as we escape? -Better seek sleep in the cold waters of the river than -fall before the torture of their presence in the boiling -mud and scorching flame."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Edwin, too, was staggered by the strangeness of -the sight. It was the sense of unprecedented peril, -the presence of dangers which no man could fathom, -which overwhelmed him. But he had enough clear-sighted -common sense to perceive the first thing to be -guarded against was the frantic terror of the wilful -boy who was guiding him; for Whero, in his -excitement, was urging Beauty to a breakneck speed. But -a change awaited them in the open glade, for there the -sun and wind had dried the surface of the mud, and -the clouds of dust settling down upon it had formed -a hard crust.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Edwin breathed more freely as Whero grew calmer. -The horse seemed to step along with ease at first; but -his weight was too great. The crust gave way -beneath him, and they were soon all floundering in a -quagmire. Edwin was flung backwards on a portion -of the broken crust, which, like a floating island, was -drifting him across the fissure. Whero clung round -the horse's neck, clutching wildly at his mane. Beauty, -with the intelligence of a fording-horse, pawed through -the mud in quest of a firmer foothold, and found it -on the trunk of a buried tree.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On this vantage-ground, being lightened of half his -load, he was preparing for a spring. At the first -movement Whero went over his head, and Beauty, -finding himself his own master, changed his mind. -Under any other circumstances it would have been -fun to Edwin to see him feeling his way along -his unseen bridge until he reached the roots of the -tree, which, with the many tons of earth clinging in -them, rose at least ten feet into the air, a solitary -hillock around which the mud was consolidating. -Here he took his stand. The boys could see him -scraping away the earth and nibbling at the young -green shoots of budding fern already forcing their -way to the upper air.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Edwin tried to propel his floating island towards -the point where Whero was standing, like a heron, -on one leg, trying to scrape the mud from the other. -He edged about this way and that, until at last the -boys were near enough to clasp hands. When he -felt the sinewy gripe of his dusky friend, Edwin took -the meditated leap, and broke into the mud by -Whero's side. He went down upon his hands and -knees; but Whero grasped the collar of his jacket, and -kept him from sinking. The crust in this place was -nearly a foot thick, and when Edwin regained his -equilibrium the two stepped lightly over it, walking -like cats, holding each other's hands, and balancing -themselves as if they were treading on ice, until they -reached a precipitous crag, on which it was impossible -for the mud to rest. Whero began to climb the steep -ascent, reaching down a hand to drag up Edwin after -him. They gained a ledge several feet above the -lower ground, and here they paused to recover -themselves and look around for Beauty. It was a pain, a -grief to both the boys to abandon him to his fate. -But they dared not shout his name or attract his -attention, for fear he should attempt to cross the -treacherous waste which lay between them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To dash the tears from their eyes, to speak as if -they "would not care" when their hearts felt bursting, -was useless; and yet they did it—risking their own -necks in a mad desire to rush off where they could no -longer see him, and then returning for a last despairing -glance, until Whero had to own he had lost his way.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Another vast column of steam hung in mid air, and -when it lifted they could distinguish the gangs of -men hard at work, marking the site of more than one -annihilated village. They watched them from afar -digging away the mud in hopes of finding some of the -inhabitants alive beneath it. A mill-sail turning in -the wind just showed itself above the blue-gray mass, -and warned them that the depth of the deposit was -increasing steadily as they drew nearer and nearer to -the sacred mountains. That moving sail told Whero -where he was. With one hand shading his eyes he -scanned the country round.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The pakeha seeks out the pakeha, but no man -turns to the Maori pah!" he exclaimed, stretching his -arms towards the wide waste of hateful blue, and -pointing to the foul remains of the crystal lake—the -lake by which he had been born. But where was the -ancient whare? where was his home?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Edwin thought only of crossing to the nearest -group of men, throwing back the mud, right and left, -with a desperate energy. He raised his voice and -tried to give the "coo" for help, in the fond hope it -might reach their ears. Whero joined in the outcry, -and they stood still, shouting. But the hollow echo -was their sole reply.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They had wandered wide from the ford, for they -were approaching the lake from the opposite side.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They sat down on the rocky ledge, and looked at -each other in silence. A call from above startled -them. It was a shrill but far-off voice that was not -human.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Whero, with all a Maori's belief in evil spirits, -shook with terror, and his howling shrieks filled the -air and drowned the distant sound.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, hush!" entreated Edwin. "Shut up! do, -and let us listen."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They heard it plainly once again—the long-drawn -Maori word "Hoké" (Return, return), followed, in -quicker accents, by Whero's name. He looked up -terror-stricken, surveying the rocky steep above their -heads, and gasped out, almost fainting,—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You know not where you are. This hill is tapu, -and he who breaks tapu is sure to die."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Bosh!" retorted Edwin. "If you would only -speak English I should know what you mean."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His arms went round the poor boy, who seemed -ready to die, as many a Maori has died before, of -pure fright at the thought of breaking tapu—that is, -touching anything the chief has made sacred. But -Edwin did not understand his dread.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't be such a coward," he expostulated; "I'll -stand by you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hoké! hoké!" rang out the bird-like voice. -"Whero, hoké!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The lofty summit of the hill gave back the cry.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Go up," urged Edwin. "Some of your people -may have taken refuge here. Whatever you mean -by tapu, it can't scare me. You daren't go! then let -me try."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a rift in the scarped side of the hill, -where human hands had cut a foothold here and -there, making the ascent possible. Whero crept along -the edge and swung himself over. Edwin crawled -after him, and climbed up with less difficulty than he -expected. "Hoké" was piped above their heads, and -Whero's courage failed him once again. He sank -upon a stone, with every nerve quivering. The -English boy climbed on, and found himself at last upon -a bit of table-land which from its height seemed to -have escaped the general devastation; for the ground -was still covered with the dried remains of summer -vegetation. He passed between the tree-like ferns -until he came upon a spot, bare and dry, without a -sign of a scrap of undergrowth of any kind or at any -time. It might have been about three-quarters of an -acre, and was completely arched over by the -inter-woven boughs of four or five gigantic trees, which -even the storm of mud could not penetrate. Edwin -gazed at their majestic trunks, full sixty feet in -circumference, ranged around him like the columns of -one of nature's temples, with a kind of awe.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The ground on which he stood was hard and dusty, -and yet he knew, by the fern and the creeper through -which he had reached it, this unusual clearance was -not the work of the eruption. It looked as if it -might have been thus barren for ages.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The roots of the trees had grown out of the ground, -and were twisted and coiled over and over like a -group of mighty serpents transfixed and fossilized by -ancient sorcery. Among them lay the human relics -of a barbarous age. The very stones on which he -trod had once been fashioned by the hand of man. -There were axe and spear heads, knives and chisels, -embedded in the fibrous coils; and were they human -skulls and bones which lay there whitening by their -side? Edwin recoiled in horror. A bird flew down -from the leafy dome, and alighted near him, renewing -its wailing cry, "Hoké, hoké." Edwin saw by the -crimson feathers of its breast it was a species of -macaw—an escaped pet from some of the buried -homes around him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He called it a little nervously at first, as if it had -dyed its plumage in the blood of the murdered -captives whose bones lay white at his feet. The bird -swooped round, beating the air with its outspread -wings, and darting forward as if it had half a mind -to perch upon his outstretched hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When were Edwin's pockets ever empty? He was -feeling in them now for a few dry crumbs wherewith -to tempt the wailing bird.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It fluttered nearer at the welcome sight, for grain -or insects were nowhere to be found in that place of -dearth. It came at last, and nestled, as it had -evidently been taught to nestle by its unknown master, -close against Edwin's cheek. He grasped it by the -wings, and gently smoothed its ruffled feathers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Whero," he shouted, running back with it to the -brow of the hill, "Whero, it is a bird."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The sound of his own voice seemed to break the -spell of horror which had fallen over him, and he -rushed away from serpent root and blighted bough -with which nature herself had written on the hateful -spot, "Accursed."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He no longer wondered that the Maori boy refused -to go with him. The slightest suspicion of impatience -and contempt had vanished from his tone when he -spoke again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Look at it, Whero."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Whero looked not at the bird, but at his friend.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did you go far?" he asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Only to the top," answered Edwin.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not to the top," persisted Whero, lowering his -voice and whispering hoarsely. "There is a spot up -there, a fatal spot, where the grass never grows and -the air breathes death. Ask me not for more. Come away."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He seized Edwin's arm and drew him backwards. -The desolate bird shook itself free, and flew to him -with a cry of joy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is my kaka," he exclaimed, "my own dear -redbreast, calling out, 'Return.'"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Are you satisfied, Whero?" asked Edwin, in tones -of heartfelt sympathy. "Have we searched far -enough? Shall we go back and try to make our -way to the ford or across to the diggers?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not yet," answered Whero; "I would see the spot -where the great hot stone used to be."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is buried," Edwin went on, "too deep in the -mud for us to find, I'm afraid."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Whero flung himself on the ground, exclaiming -wildly, "All lost! all gone! why don't you tangi over -me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I would, if it would do you any good; but I -don't know how," said Edwin, bluntly. "We are not -sure yet, Whero; your people may have rushed away -in the night as we did. We will hope to the last."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In his despair Whero had let the kaka fly, and -Edwin watched it wheeling over the space between -them and the lake, until it settled down in what -appeared to him to be a hole in the all-pervading mud.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He has found something," cried Edwin, hurrying -down the steep descent in a wave of excitement. -Whero shrieked after him to stop him; so once again -the boys rested awhile, and ate up the remainder of -the bread in Whero's pockets. It was Edwin's last -resource to revive the wild boy's failing courage, and -it partially succeeded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Edwin," he said, "am I alone in the world—the -last of the proud race who owned the fastness in this -steep hill-top and the hot stone by yonder lake? -Have I nothing left to me but this awful place where -my grim forefathers held their victory-feast? Will -you come and live with me there?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In that ogre's castle!" exclaimed Edwin, with a -shudder. "A moment ago you dare not follow me -to its threshold, and now—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have been thinking," interrupted Whero, "I -must not slight so strange an omen as the kaka's -call. Are the mighty dead using his voice to call -me back (for I should have fled the place); to remind -me what I have now become—a chief of the hills, -who can make and unmake tapu as he pleases? Let -us go up and swear to be true to each other for ever -and ever and ever, as my forefathers used to swear -on the eve of battle."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I will stand by you," said Edwin, earnestly; "on -the honour of an Englishman I will. I'll go down -to the lake with you. Better see what the kaka has -found than climb the hill again. Come."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He put his arm round Whero and began the -dangerous descent. A fallen tree bridged their path. -The tremor of an earthquake was beginning. They -flung themselves at once on their faces, for fear they -should be rolled over down the treacherous steep. -As Edwin lay resting his arms against the fallen -tree, he scanned once more the break in the muddy -crust round which the kaka was still wheeling.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>What did he see, or what did he fancy he could -see at such a distance? Was it a blackened fragment -of pumice-stone the bird was hovering over with its -wailing cry, or was it the quaint old carving on the -pointed roof of Nga-Hepé's whare? Whero's eye -was fastened on the spot. Could he too see it? They -were afraid of losing their foothold, as the tree, like -everything else, was covered with the sticky slime, -and crawled along the trunk one after the other, -Whero leading the way. It landed them on the top -of the mud-heap, and they walked across the dried -crust, as they had been able to do on the other side.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The stillness of the desert was around them. -Little life of any kind seemed to have escaped the -widespread destruction. A lonely gull had flown up -with the morning breeze, and was pursuing the dead -fish across the lake, as they floated entangled in the -drift of the wind-torn foliage which strewed its surface.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On they walked, until Whero was satisfied that the -dead level they were crossing must cover the site of -the Rota Pah. Even the strong wall which defended -it was buried. Yet it was a wall strong enough and -high enough to resist the attack of English assailants.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The wintry breezes sweeping over the lake had -dried the mud more thoroughly on this side of the -hill. The crust beneath their feet was thicker and -firmer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The boys ran lightly across the intervening space. -As Whero drew near to the hole, the bird alighted -on his shoulder, and putting its beak to his ear, -exchanged its painful cries for a soft, low, warbling -note.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Edwin was sure now they saw the ridge of the -high-peaked roof of Nga-Hepé's whare.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="edwin-s-discovery"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XII.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">EDWIN'S DISCOVERY.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Edwin rubbed off the mud from the boss at the -point of the gable, and gazed upon the hideous -face, which was neither bird's nor man's, but the same, -the very same, which had attracted his attention when -he went with Nga-Hepé to his home. Edwin looked -up. The words upon his lips seemed to die away in -pity for the Maori boy. At last he whispered huskily, -"Whero, there is something here."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My home! my home!" was the passionate response, -as Whero flung himself across the ridge and hugged -the wooden face as if it were a living thing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Edwin was thinking of all Mr. Bowen's men had -said: how the doors and windows of the ford-house -had been blocked by the mud with such rapidity there -was not time for Mr. Hirpington and his people to -get away. He recalled all he had ever heard or read -of the frightful colliery accidents when the miners -had been entombed for days, and of cottages buried -beneath an avalanche of snow. A bitter and -overwhelming feeling of self-reproach rose in his heart. -"Oh, why did we linger by the way and follow the -bird? We ought to have hurried here at once. O -Whero, I did not realize, I did not half understand. -Help me," Edwin went on, for Whero had begun to -raise his howling dirge—"help me to make a hole -through the roof, for fear there should be anybody -left inside."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Have I come to the hot stone of my fathers to -find it a place of graves?" groaned Whero, pausing in -his wail.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Hirpington got away in his boat; your -father may have taken to his canoe," urged Edwin, -clinging to hope to cheer his companion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A bound, and Whero was up among the leafless -boughs of the grand old trees which had sheltered his -home.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Were the canoes gone? His eye roved along the -reedy swamp for each familiar mooring-place, but all -was changed. Mud-banks and shoals surrounded the -murky pool, and his landmarks were gone. Yet more -than one canoe was embedded in the new-made morass, -and he cried out in despair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meanwhile Edwin was tugging at the bulrush -thatch with all his might. As the hole increased with -his efforts, he caught the echo of a feeble sigh. He -shouted to Whero, and tore away at the rushes with -frantic desperation. A knock made answer. The -wintry day was darkening to its close, and Edwin -felt that the task was beyond him. He could not -unroof the well-built whare, with no fork to help him -and single-handed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We must get across the bush somehow, and fetch -the men we saw at work on the other side of the hill."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But nothing which Edwin could urge could induce -Whero to leave the spot. He sat on the ridge of the -roof with the fidelity of a dog, howling and wailing, -only pausing to bury his head in the thatch to listen -to the faint and feeble sounds within. Edwin watched -him breathlessly for a moment or two. They had let -in the air through the hole he had made; but the -brief New Zealand twilight would soon be over, and -what more could they do in the darkness of night? -He sprang to his feet. "I'm off, Whero," he shouted. -"Trust me, I'll never rest until I get you better help -than mine."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He ran across the mud. It was growing harder and -harder in the keen frosty air. He knew the wind was -blowing from the lake, so that if he were careful to -turn his back to the breeze, he could not lose his way.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Edwin had almost reached the hill, when he heard -a voice "cooing" in the distance. It was not Whero's. -But the swift transition with which night comes on in -New Zealand shrouded him in sudden darkness; and -whilst he waited for the rising of the stars, he heard -the shouts drawing nearer, and gave the answering -"coo" with all his might. He could distinguish the -echo of a horse's hoofs on the hardening ground. -There was no doubt about it now, the rider was coming -fast. He shouted with renewed energy; and then the -Southern Cross shone out in all its brilliancy, and the -horseman perceived the small dark figure waving both -arms in the air, and galloped towards him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In another moment Edwin was grasping hands with -his old friend the coachman.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What! you, my lad, up here?" exclaimed Ottley; -and as Edwin answered, the sight of the prancing -horse that Ottley was riding shot a pain through his -heart. It was so like his own beloved Beauty, -abandoned on his little islet in that sea of mud.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The tears came rushing into Edwin's eyes, until he -could see no more. He tried to answer. The horse -had turned its head to listen with quick, impatient -movements, until it fairly rubbed its nose against -Edwin's shoulder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His arms went round its arching neck with a cry -of delight. It was his own, his own, own Beauty.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," said Ottley, "I knew him again. I -supposed he had strayed, for I came upon him standing -shivering against such shelter as the roots of an -upturned tree could afford him. He was not difficult -to catch, and he has brought me on. I got my coach -along some miles beyond Cambridge, and found the -way completely blocked, so I have left it there, and -come to give what help I could. I can spare the -time it would have taken me to reach the end of my -route. I have been working with a party of diggers -at Te Wairoa. Then I determined to come across and -see how it fared with my old friend at the ford, and -now I find you wandering alone. Come, get up -behind me. It is not the first time you and I have -crossed these wilds together."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh no," answered Edwin; "and I want you -worse than even then. You must come with me at -once to the help of the Maori chief. We have found -him buried alive, with his whole family, beneath this -awful mud—but I think not yet quite dead. I feel -as if God had sent you here to save them."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then Edwin poured out his story, and explained -how he had encountered Whero, and how they had -come on together to find their fathers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Whilst he was yet speaking Ottley alighted. -"Take your horse, lad," he said, "and ride as fast as -you can; the mud will bear you now. As soon as -you get to the brow of that hill, you will see the -camp-fire of the diggers in the distance. Make that -your guide. You will find them by that in the -night when you could not have found your way in -the daylight and the dust. Trust to Beauty to avoid -the boiling jets; they are opening everywhere. You -can give this message from me to the first party of -diggers you come to. Tell them I want help badly, -by the lake. Be a brave lad, and remember that -more lives than we can reckon are depending on your -speed."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then Ottley took out his match-box, and sharing -its contents with Edwin, charged him, if he happened -to lose his way or meet with any obstacle he could -not pass, to choose a dry tree and set it on fire. "The -blaze will be seen for miles through the leafless forest, -and will be sure to bring you help," he added, as he -put the boy on the horse and set off at a swinging -pace towards the buried whare, over which the kaka -was still hovering.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The emergency was so great, Edwin felt himself -beyond all personal fear, which might have daunted -him at any other time had he been obliged to ride -alone in the night through those desolate wilds. He -patted Beauty's neck, and heartened himself up with -the thought of the eternal presence of the Unseen, -ever ready, ever near to help and guide, giving -strength in weakness and light in darkness. When -will, desire, and trust meet in one point, that point -is faith, the strongest power within the human breast. -It upheld Edwin, worn and weary as he was, in that -lonely ride. He had cleared the rising ground. The -camp-fire glimmered in the distance; but Beauty, who -had had neither food nor water since the morning, -began to flag. Then Edwin remembered Ottley's -charge, and looked about for a dry tree.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He found one smouldering still, in the midst of a -scorched circle—the dying remains of a bush fire, -kindled by the lightning on the night of the eruption.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He gathered up the charred branches fallen around -it, and fanned the glowing embers to a flame. One -of the incessant earthquake shocks scattered his fire -just as he had got it to burn. He did his work over -again. The blaze roared up into the midnight sky. -He tied Beauty to a tree at a little distance, and sat -down before his fire, thankful for the momentary -rest. He could have fallen asleep. He was afraid -that he might do so unawares, for he felt he was -succumbing to the genial warmth. The change was -too great after being exposed for so many hours to -the chill of the night, and he fainted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When Edwin came to himself he was lying under -canvas. A cup was held to his lips by some unknown -hand, and as he tasted its warm contents, voice came -back to him. He asked feebly, "Where am I? I -can't remember."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Never mind then, my boy," said his rough nurse, -in kindly tones which were not altogether strange. -"You are with those who will take care of you to the -last. There, sleep, and forget your troubles."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sleep!" repeated Edwin, starting up. "What -business have I with sleep when Mr. Ottley sent me -with a message?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ottley! who is Ottley?" asked another voice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The coachman fellow who helped us at Te -Wairoa," answered the first speaker.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Edwin roused himself, saying earnestly,—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He wants you to go to his help. He wants help -badly by the lake amid the hills."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where is that?" asked the men of each other.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll guide you," said Edwin. "I'll show you the way."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not you," they answered simultaneously. "You -just lie here and sleep in safety. Some of the other -fellows will know. That will be all right."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As they laid him back on the blanket, Edwin saw -in the dim, uncertain light the rough sleeve of a blue -jacket.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What! surprised to meet us here, my boy?" said -the voice, which he now knew to be the captain's. -"Though our feet were sore with dragging over the -oyster-bed, we went back with Feltham's shepherds. -When we saw your fire flash up against the night -sky, says some of the fellows, 'That is a signal,' and off -they went to see, and when they brought you into -camp I knew you in a moment."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Edwin grasped the horny hand held out to him -with a smile.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where is my horse?" he asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tethered outside; but there is not a bit of food -to give him—no, not a single bite. But lie still and -sleep and eat yourself, and in a few hours you will be -all right."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When Edwin waked again it was daylight. A -piece of camping-out bread and a cup of water stood -beside him, but every man was gone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He took the breakfast they had provided, and -walked to the door of the tent eating his bread. -There was no one in sight but Beauty, looking very -wretched for want of food. Edwin broke the crumb -from his piece of bread, and carried it to him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We will go shares, old fellow," he said, patting -him, "and then you will carry me to father.</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>'What must be, must;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But you shall have crumb,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>If I have crust.'"</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>He looked about the tent, and found a small pail. -The hiss and splash of bubbling water guided him to -the geyser. He knew the men would not have put -up their tent unless there had been a spring at hand. -He filled his pail with the boiling water, and left it -to cool for Beauty's benefit. Still he thought they -could not be very far off, or they would not have left -their tent. But he was afraid to waste time looking -about him. Some of the party had no doubt -remained behind. He longed to follow the captain, -and go back to Ottley and Whero, for when their -work was over by the lake he knew they would help -him to find his father. Edwin found a charred stick -where the men had made their camp fire. He wrote -with it on a piece of bark:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good-bye, and thanks to all kind friends. I am -going back to Ottley.—EDWIN LEE."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then he gave poor Beauty his water, and started -off for the Rota Pah. He was trusting to the horse's -sagacity. "If I give him the rein," he thought, "he -is safe to take the road to his old home."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But no brief spell of sleep, with its blessed -forgetfulness, had come to Whero. He had kept his lonely -vigil on the tumbled thatch, chanting his mournful -dirge until the echoes rang. There, with the -starshine overhead, and that strange cloud through which -the fire still flashed rising like a wall between him -and the sacred hills, he felt himself abandoned by -earth and heaven. But his despair had reached its -climax. The help which Edwin had gone to seek -was nearer than he thought. A long, dark shadow -was thrown across the star-lit ground, and Ottley -hastened towards him, exclaiming,—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Stop that howling. Be a man, and help me. -We'll soon see if there is any one alive beneath that -thatch."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He found himself a pole among the broken arms -of the trees, and set to work tearing away the thatch -until the starlight waned, and the darkest hour of all -the night put a stop to his efforts.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But in many places the roof was stripped to its -rafters, so that the cold night breeze could enter -freely. Whero was gathering the heaps of dusty -rush which Ottley had flung off to make a fire. The -cheery flames leaped upward, but were far too -evanescent to do more than give a glimpse into the -interior of the whare. But Ottley saw something in -the dark corner of the room like a white dress, -fluttering in the admitted gust. Could it be the thin white -sheet in which Kakiki had chosen to disguise himself?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Brief as the blaze had been, it had served as a -beacon to guide the captain and his mates to the spot -with their spades and bill-hooks. To chop away the -beam, to build a more substantial fire with the -splintered wood, was easy now. Whero leaped through -the hole, and reappeared with his mother in his arms. -The captain swung himself down after him, directed -by Ottley to "that something white in the corner." He -dragged it forward—a senseless burden. A -spade full of ice from above was dashed into the -unconscious face of the aged chieftain resting on his -shoulder. As Kakiki Mahane opened his eyes, the -first thing he saw was the well-remembered face of -Ottley looking down upon him, and the first thing -he heard was the heartfelt murmur which ran through -the little group above, "In time! thank God, in time!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="feeding-the-hungry"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XIII.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">FEEDING THE HUNGRY.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>As Edwin crossed the desolated bush, the morning -sun lit up the marvellous cloud-banks with a -flush of pink and gold that held him spell-bound with -the strangeness of the sight, until the dust-drift before -him began to tremble visibly with an earthquake -shock. He was not wrong in his estimate of Beauty's -intelligence, but the weary horse poked his head -forward and walked languidly. Edwin avoided the hill -where he had found the kaka. He shrank from the -gruesome spot even by daylight.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was trying to find a safe pathway to the lake, -when he saw Ottley walking rapidly towards him. -He waved his arm to the boy to stop. As they drew -near to each other, Edwin almost shuddered, expecting -to hear nothing but ill news. He was bitterly -reproaching himself for not having asked the captain if -he had heard anything of his father.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Ottley shouted out "Well met" in a cheery -tone, adding dryly, "I hope you got some breakfast -at the camp, for on this side of the bush it is very -hard to find. We have been at it all night. -Nga-Hepé has not yet come round; but Marileha is saved, -and her white-haired father too. We have done what -we could, with nothing to help us but the keen frosty -air and muddy water. Now we must have food, for -most of the villagers from the Rota Pah had taken -refuge with them. The mud slipped off the sloping -roof of Nga-Hepé's whare when half the huts in the -pah lay crushed beneath its weight. I am going to -the ford to see if Hirpington has come back to his -place. He kept a full store-room at all times."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"O Mr. Ottley," exclaimed Edwin, "let me go too, -for father may be with him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, he is not, my boy," returned Ottley, -compassionately. "He was the first in the field, and did -wonders. He has been hurt by a falling tree, but an -old fellow they call Hal is taking care of him in one -of the tents. I'll show you where."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Show me at once," entreated Edwin. "I must go -to father first, wherever he is. I have been such a -very long while trying to find him. Is it very far -from here?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," answered Ottley; "but you must wait until -I can take you there. You had better come with me -now, and get some food for your father whilst I can -give it to you. If Hirpington has not come back, we -must dig into the house and help ourselves, and reckon -the pay when we meet."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Please, Mr. Ottley," burst in Edwin, "tell me all -about father. Is he much hurt?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My boy," exclaimed Ottley, "I know no more -than you do; but if he is roughing it, as our fellows -do up there alone, better wait and see what I can find."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Edwin felt the force of this reasoning, and said no -more. Ottley laid his hand on Beauty's rein, and -walked beside him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Suddenly Edwin looked up, exclaiming, "This is -Sunday morning!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And a strange Sunday it is," answered Ottley, -somewhat dreamily, as his thoughts went back to -Sundays long ago, bringing with them an echo of the -church-going bells, to which his ear had so long been -a stranger. "Sunday up country in New Zealand," -he went on, "is little beside a name, except to those -who can hear the sermon of the stones and read the -books—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In the running brooks," added Edwin; "and good -in everything. But is it so?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nature's voices have been speaking in tones to -which all must listen," continued Ottley. "Yet the -Lord was not in the earthquake and the storm, but in -the still small voice."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His words were slow and grave, so unlike his usual -tones Edwin listened in silence, and in silence they -approached the ford. Even Beauty's footsteps were -inaudible, for the mud by the river had not dried as -fast as elsewhere.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The boy's heart was heavy with apprehension as -he looked up, expecting to see the familiar gate; but -not one trace of post or gate remained. The acacia -tree in which the lamp used to hang was riven asunder. -The grassy mound and the gorse hedge were gone. -The road had been raised by the mud and dust to the -level of the farm-yard wall. Almost without knowing -they did so, they went straight over it, and found -themselves even with the window of the hay-loft. -The roof of the house was crushed in, and its doors -and windows banked up with mud. As they looked -round at it, Edwin pointed to the hole his father must -have made when he extricated his friend's family. A -man was getting out of it at the moment. They stood -quite still and watched him draw up a full sack after him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There is some one before us on the same errand," -said Edwin; but Ottley hushed him without replying.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The man looked round as Edwin's voice broke the -profound stillness. Ottley shouted to him, "Wait -where you are, mate, and I will come to your help."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The coachman knew if the man were on honest -work intent he would gladly accept his offer, for the -sack was so full he could hardly move it. But he -thought, if the fellow is a thief, he will try to get rid -of me. Ottley turned to Edwin, saying carelessly, -with the air of one at home in the place, "You will -find some hay for your horse inside that window. -Give him a good feed, whilst I look round and see if -all is safe."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was speaking loud enough for the man to hear -him. He was trying to make the fellow understand -that he was there to protect Mr. Hirpington's property. -He left Edwin to feed his horse, and walked quickly -across the heaps of mud Mr. Lee had shovelled away -from the window nearest to the water.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The man had let the sack drop, and now stood idly -on the main beam, which had not been displaced, as -if he too were surveying the extent of the mischief. -Ottley leaped across and stood beside him, observing, -"The colonists are everywhere returning to their -homes. The general opinion seems to be that the -danger is over. Hirpington may be expected any -minute. I came over to help him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The men stood looking at each other, and Edwin -recognized the fellow on the roof. It was the rabbiter -who had spoken to him in the dark when he thought -no one could hear him but his father.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"O Mr. Ottley," he called out, "it is one of the -rabbiters who came to our help."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And are you the farmer's son?" asked the man, -descending from the roof to speak to him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Edwin was feeling very grateful to the rabbiters. -Hal was nursing his father, and he looked on them as -friends. So when the man approached and asked him -what he had come to the ford for he answered him -freely, explaining all that had happened since they -parted. Edwin ended his account with the dismaying -intelligence, "Mr. Ottley says there is no food to be -had—nothing to give the poor Maoris to eat—so we -have come to look if we can find any food among -these ruins."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No harm in that," returned the man quickly. -"We are all on the same errand."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>These were Edwin's own words, and he smiled, not -knowing anything of Ottley's suspicion that the man -was bent on plunder. The rabbiter walked off, and -they saw no more of him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ottley continued his examination of the premises. -The house to the river-side was not greatly damaged. -If the roof were repaired, Mr. Hirpington could -inhabit it again, and clear away the mud from the -garden side at his leisure. But Ottley had no idea where -his friend had taken refuge. He could send him no -warning to return and see after his property. The -window of the store-room looked to the river. As -he went round to examine it, he found the old -ford-horse wading about in the water, cropping at the -weeds which grew on its margin. When Dunter let -him loose—for no power on earth could make him -travel on land—he swam down stream, and returned -to his beloved ford, which he had crossed and recrossed -several times, for his own gratification. Ottley called -him out of the water, and led him round to share -the hay with Beauty. He was anxious about his -own coach-horses, for whose benefit the store of hay -had been provided. They were gone. Probably -Mr. Hirpington had opened the stable-doors at the first -shock of earthquake. The hay was his own, and he -told Edwin to tie up a bundle and take it away with -him for Beauty. He was glad to see the man had gone -off quietly, and said no more about him. He saw no -occasion to put Edwin on his guard, as he was going -to take him back to his father directly. He had not -much faith in any boy's discretion, and he thought he -might talk about the man to Hal.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ottley knew well, when there were so many -abandoned homes and so many homeless wanderers, what -was sure to follow. "But," he said to himself, "this -state of things will not last many days; yet a lot of -mischief may be done, and how is the property to be -protected? Life must stand first. A good dog would -guard the ruins, but Hirpington's must all have -followed their master."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He crawled into the hay-loft and pulled out a -tarpaulin, which, with Edwin's assistance, he spread over -the broken roof, and fastened as securely as he could, -to keep out the weather and other depredators. Then -he cut away the lattice of the store-room window -with his pocket-knife, until he had cleared a space -big enough for Edwin to slip through.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This feels like house-breaking," said the boy with -a laugh, as his feet found a resting-place on -Mrs. Hirpington's chopping-block, and he drew in his -head and stood upright.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah! but it is not," returned Ottley gravely. -"All this is accommodation provided for my 'coach,' -and paid for. It will be all right between me and -Hirpington. If anybody talks of following in our -steps, tell them what I say. Now hand me up that -cheese, and the ham on the opposite shelf, and look if -there is a round of beef in salt. There should be -bovril and tea and sugar somewhere. We may want -those for your father. Now for the flour!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Edwin undid the window from the inside, but he -could not lift a sack of flour. He handed up a -biscuit-tin, and pound after pound of coffee, until Ottley -began to think they had as much as they could carry -away. Like a careful housekeeper, Mrs. Hirpington -kept the door of her store-room locked, so they could -not get through to the kitchen to find the bacon. -Where Mrs. Hirpington kept her bread was a puzzle. -Then Ottley remembered there was another pantry; -but they could not get at it. He discovered two -great baskets in the loft, used in the fruit-gathering. -He slung them over Beauty's back, and filled them -full. Edwin got out of the window again, and shut -it after him. Mrs. Hirpington's pastry-board was -converted into a temporary shutter. But as all -Ottley's fastenings had to be done on the outside, -they could also be undone if any one were so minded. -Yet this consideration could not weigh against the -starving people by the lake. Ottley pulled the hay -still in the loft close up to the window, which they -left open, so that the old forder could help himself. -Then they attempted once again to cross the bush. -Poor Beauty was terribly annoyed by his panniers. -He conceived the wild idea of rolling over on the -ground, to get rid of them. But Ottley promptly -circumvented all such attempts. As for the load of -hay on his back, Beauty was decidedly of opinion the -best way to free himself from that was to eat it up. -Edwin contented him with an occasional handful, and -much patting and coaxing to soothe his ruffled temper.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was the middle of the day before they reached -Nga-Hepé's whare, which the kindly band of excavators -had so expeditiously unroofed. When their work -was over in that direction, they had dug into the -mud heaps which marked the site of the Rota Pah, -and many a poor Maori had been lifted into light -and air.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Some of the inhabitants of the village had rushed -out at the first alarm, and had escaped in their canoes; -others had taken refuge in Nga-Hepé's strongly-built -whare; but many had perished beneath their falling -roofs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The captain and his mates had bent all their -energies to the task. They had shovelled away the -mud from the council-hall, which was also, according -to Maori custom, the sleeping-room of the tribe. -Here they found men, women, and children huddled -together, for the stronger beam of its roof had not -yet given way under the weight of the mud. They -had carried the survivors to the fire on the bank of -the lake, and left them in Whero's care, to await -Ottley's return with the food. There was nothing -more that the captain and his companions could do -here. But other lives might yet be saved elsewhere; -and they hurried back to the help of the comrades -they had abandoned when Ottley's message reached them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The natives, swathed in their mats and blankets, -were lying in groups on the frozen mud, still gasping -and groaning, suffering as much from terror as from -physical exhaustion. But the rich men of the tribe, -who may always be known by some additional bit of -European clothing, were not among them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The aged patriarch Kakiki, who had been among -the first to rally, had raised himself on his elbow, and -was asking eager questions about them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where is Pepepe? Hopo-Hopo where? Are -there none to answer?" he demanded, gazing at the -dazed faces around him. "Then will I tell you. -They are struck by the gods in their anger. Who -are the gods we worship? who but the mighty -ones of the tribe—men whose anger made the brave -tremble even here on earth. Who then can hope to -stand against their anger in the dwelling of the gods? -Is not Hepé the terrible one foremost among them? -Did ye at all appease him when ye sent the tana to -a son of his race? See his vengeance on Pepepe! -He lies dead in the pah, he who proposed it. Who -shall carry up his bones to the sacred mountain, that -he may sleep with his fathers? The gods will have -none of him, for has he not eaten up their child? Ye -who brought hunger to this whare, in this place has -hunger found you. Ye left Nga-Hepé naught but -a roof to shelter him; he has naught but that shelter -to give you now. As the lightning shrivels up the -fern, so shame shall shrivel up the tongue which asks -of him the food of which ye have robbed him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He ceased speaking as Ottley came in sight. Whero -was hidden among the reeds, filling a pail he had -exhumed with the muddy water from the lake. Four -or five of the other Maoris staggered to their feet and -intercepted the horse, clamouring and snatching at -the food in its panniers. They had eaten nothing -since the night of the eruption. The supply Ottley -had brought looked meagre and poor amongst so many, -and whilst he promised every man a share, he steadily -resisted all their attempts to help themselves until he -came up with the little cluster of women and children -cowering between the heaps of thatch, when a dozen -hands were quickly tearing out the contents of the -baskets.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Old Konga seized a stick and tried to beat them -off, while Marileha stood behind her imploring her -old friends to remember her famishing babes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Edwin was pushed down, but he scrambled up and -ran to meet Whero, as Kakiki Mahane rose slowly -from the ground and laid a detaining hand upon the -horse's mane. "Who fights with starving men?" he -exclaimed, and the stick fell from Ronga's hand in -mute obedience.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What is the matter?" asked Whero, as the boys -stood face to face. "There is trouble in your eyes, -my brother—a trouble I do not share."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ottley has promised to take me on to father; -the time is flying, and he cannot get away," said -Edwin.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Whero's cheek was rubbed softly against his, a -word was whispered between them, and Whero went -round to where his own father lay groaning on the -ground, leaving his pail behind him. "Father, father, -rouse yourself," he entreated, "or the men of the pah -will tear the kind coachman to pieces!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Edwin caught up the pail and threw away the -muddy water which Whero had taken such pains to -reach, but no vexation at the sight brought the -slightest cloud to his dusky face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Throw me that tin of coffee," shouted Edwin to -the resolute Ottley, who was dividing the food so -that every one should have a share, according to his -promise.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The desired tin came flying through the air. Edwin -emptied its contents into his pail. "Whoever wants -coffee," he cried, "must fill this at the geyser."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nga-Hepé lifted his head from the ground where -he had been lying, apparently taking no notice, and -said something to his wife. She moved slowly amidst -the group until she reached her old friend the -coachman. "Go," she whispered. "The boiling spring is -choked by the mud. The men are scattering to find -another. Go before they return. In their hearts -they love you not as we do. Go!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He put the remainder of his stores into her hands, -sprang upon Beauty, and caught up Edwin behind -him. They looked back to the old man and the -children, and waved their hands in farewell, taking -nothing away with them but the bovril and the tea -in Edwin's pocket.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They rode on in silence until they felt themselves -beyond the reach of the excited crowd. Both were -looking very grave when at last they reached the -tent where Mr. Lee was lying. The lowering skies -betokened a change of weather.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Rain," said Ottley, looking upwards; "but rain -may free us from this plague of dust."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hal, who had heard their steps approaching, came -out to meet them. Whilst he was speaking to Ottley, -Edwin slipped off the horse and ran into the tent. -He found his father lying on the ground, apparently -asleep. He knelt down beside him and listened to -his heavy breathing. The dreamy eyes soon opened -and fastened on his face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't you know me, father?" asked Edwin, taking -the hand which hung down nervelessly in both of his.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where are the little ones?" asked Mr. Lee.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Safe by this time with Mr. Bowen's grandson, -father," answered Edwin. But the reply was hardly -spoken when the dreamy eyelids closed, and Mr. Lee -was fast asleep again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Edwin looked out of the door of the tent, where -the men were still talking.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If it had not been for those surveying fellows," -Hal was saying, "who hurried up from the south -with their camp, what should I have done? They -lent me this tent and gave me some bread."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where are they?" asked Edwin, glancing round. -"I want to thank them all."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, lad," exclaimed Hal, "they are miles away -from here now. They say the mud has fallen from -Taheka to Wairoa. Not your little bit of a place, -but a big village. We've lots of Wairoas; it is a -regular Maori name."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," added Ottley, "they have gone on; for the -mud has fallen heavy for ten miles round the -mountain—some declare it is a hundred feet deep at Te -Ariki—and there may be other lives to save even now."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, but you have done a bad day's work, I fear," -persisted the old rabbiter. "You have brought back -to life a dangerous neighbour; which may make it -hardly safe for us to stay where we are. His people -will follow the horse's tracks, and come and eat up -all my little hoard; and how can an old man like me -defend himself? They would soon knock me over, -and what would become of poor Lee? He will sleep -himself right if we can let him lie still where he is; -but if these Maoris come clamouring round us, it will -be all over with him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Edwin grew so white as he overheard this, Ottley -urged him to go back to his father and rest whilst -they lit a fire and prepared the tea.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He gave Beauty his feed of hay, and gathering -up the remainder he took it in with him, to try to -make his father a better bed than the old rug on -which he was lying.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It would be a bad day's work indeed if it were to -end as Hal predicted. He trembled as he slipped the -hay beneath his father's head, wondering to find him -sleeping undisturbed in the midst of such calamities -as these. "If he could only speak to me!" he groaned.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had found at last one quiet Sunday hour, but -how could he have knelt down to pray that night if -he had refused to help Whero? His fears were for -his father, but he laid them down. Had he to live -this day over again to-morrow he would do the same. -His heart was at rest once more, and he fell asleep.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was wakened by Hal and Ottley coming inside -the tent. It was raining steadily. There was no -such thing as keeping a fire alight in the open. The -tea had been hastily brewed. It was none the better -for that; but such as it was, they were thankful for -it. They roused up Edwin to have his share. It -was so dark now he could scarcely see the hand which -held the cup. Hal spread the one or two remaining -wraps he had, and prepared for the night. They all -lay down for a few hours' sleep. Edwin was the -nearest to his father.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The two men were soon snoring, but Edwin was -broad awake. Mr. Lee moved uneasily, and threw -aside the blanket which covered him. Edwin bent -over him in a moment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is there anything I can do for you, father?" he -said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Lee was feeling about in the blanket. "Where -is my belt?" he asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Edwin did not say a word to rouse the other -sleepers; but although it was perfectly dark, he soon -satisfied himself the belt was gone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was a wash-leather belt, in which Mr. Lee had -quilted his money for safety. Edwin knew it well. -He realized in a moment what a loss it would be to -his father if this were missing. Hal had set Mr. Lee's -leg with splints of bark; whilst he was doing this he -might have taken off the belt. Perhaps it would be -found in a corner of the tent when it was light. -Edwin felt he must mind what he said about it to -Hal, who was taking such care of his father. He -saw that more clearly than anything else.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>No; he would only tell Ottley, and with this -decision he too fell asleep.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was so tired out, so worn, so weary, that he -slept long and heavily. When he roused it was broad -daylight, and Ottley, whose time was up, had departed. -Hal had made a fire, and was preparing a breakfast -of tea. He agreed to save the bovril Edwin had -brought for his father alone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They made a hole in the floor of the tent, not deep -enough to break the crust of the mud, and lined it -with bark. Here they kept the little jar, for fear -any of the Maoris should see it, if they came across -to beg for food.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Whilst the two were drinking their tea and watching -the lowering clouds, which betokened more rain, -the other rabbiter whom Ottley had surprised in the -ford-house strolled out from among the leafless trees -and invited himself to a share. Edwin and Hal, -who knew he needed it as much as they did, felt it -would indeed be selfish to refuse him a breakfast.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As they sat round the fire Hal took counsel with -his mate, and talked over the difficulties of their -position.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ottley had promised to try to send them help to -remove Mr. Lee to a safer place. But Hal, who was -expecting one of those torrents of rain which mark a -New Zealand winter, feared they might be washed -away before that help arrived.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lawford—as he called his mate—was of the same -opinion, and offered, if Edwin would accompany him, -to go across to the ford-house and see if the -Hirpingtons had returned.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This seemed the most hopeful thought of all, and -Edwin brightened as he ran off to catch Beauty.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had left his father comfortably pillowed in the -hay, which he had made to serve a double purpose, -but he was now obliged to pull a bit away for the -horse's breakfast.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As he started with Lawford, Hal called after them -to be sure to wrench off a shutter or a loose bit of -board. They must bring back something on which -poor Mr. Lee could be laid, to move him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Beauty trotted off briskly. After a while Lawford -looked over his shoulder at Edwin, who was riding -behind him, and said shortly, "Now we are safe, I -have something to tell you."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="rain-and-flood"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XIV.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">RAIN AND FLOOD.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Edwin felt a cold shiver run over him as -Lawford made this announcement.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Something to tell me!" he exclaimed. "Oh, -please speak out!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you see those spades?" replied Lawford, -halting beside a tree, against which two spades were -leaning. "Whero has sent them to you. He wants -you to show me where he buried that bag of treasure. -I am to dig it up and take it to Nga-Hepé. He -means to use it now to buy food for the people about -him. You know the place: it is between the two -white pines by the roadside. As soon as Nga-Hepé -has got his money, he will row down the river in his -canoe and bring it back with a load of bacon and -flour, and whatever he can get in the nearest township."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This seemed so natural to Edwin he never doubted -it was true. There were the spades, just like the two -he had seen in the whare.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh yes," he answered, "I can find the place. I -saw the trees only yesterday."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nga-Hepé sent you a charge," added Lawford, -"to mind and keep a still tongue; for if it gets air -whilst he's gone for the food, there will be such a -crowd waiting for the return of the canoe, it would -be eaten up at a single meal, and his own children -would be starving again."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I shall not speak," retorted Edwin. "Nga-Hepé -may safely trust me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They reached the road at last, and made their way -along it as before, until they came to the two tall -tapering trunks—not quite so easily identified now -they had lost their foliage.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This is the spot!" cried Edwin, slipping off the -horse, and receiving a descent of mud upon his -shoulders as he struck the dirt-laden tree.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lawford gave him the spades he was carrying, and -got down. They tied Beauty at a safe distance, and -set to work. It was comparatively easy digging -through the crust, but when they reached the soft -mud beneath it, as soon as they cleared a hole it filled -again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Their task seemed endless. "I don't believe we -can get at the money," said Edwin, in despair. "I -must go on and see if Mr. Hirpington has returned, -for I want to get back to father."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All right," answered Lawford. "Leave me at the -work. A boy like you soon tires. Take your horse -and ride down to the ford; but mind you do not say -anything about me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You need not fear that," repeated Edwin, as he -extricated himself from the slime-pit they had opened, -and mounted Beauty. It was not very far to the ford, -but he found it as he had left it—desolate and deserted. -No one had been near it since yesterday, when he -visited it with Ottley. The good old forder neighed a -welcome, and came trotting up from the river-bank -to greet him. He pulled out more hay to feed both -horses, and whilst they were eating he examined the -house.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The river was swollen with last night's rain. It -had risen to the top of the boating-stairs. Once more -the house was standing in a muddy swamp, from -which the tall fuchsia trees looked down disconsolate -on the buried garden. It was past anybody's power -to get at the store-room window. In short, the river -had taken possession, and would effectually keep out -all other intruders.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Edwin chose himself a seat among the ruins, and -turned out his pockets in quest of a little bit of -pipe-clay which once found a lodging amongst their -heterogeneous contents. He wrote with the remaining -corner, which he was happy enough to find had not -yet crumbled to dust, "Lee, senior, waiting by lake, -badly hurt, wants food and help."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had fixed upon the shutter of the hay-loft -window for his tablet, and made his letters bold and -big enough to strike the eye at a considerable distance. -He tried to make them look as if some man had -written them, thinking they would command more -attention. Then he hunted about for the piece of -loose board Hal had charged them to bring back.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Edwin wrenched it off from the front of the -hayloft, and discovered a heap of mangel-wurzel in the -corner. He snatched up one and began to eat it, as -if he were a sheep, and then wondered if he had done -right. But he felt sure Ottley would say yes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He balanced the board on his head, but found it -impossible to mount Beauty, and equally difficult to -make him follow a master with head-gear of such -an extraordinary size. So he had to drive Beauty -on before him, and when he reached the white pines -Lawford was gone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He ought to have waited for me," thought Edwin, -indignantly. "How can I get across the bush with -this board? The men care nothing about me; they -drive me along or they leave me behind to follow as -I can, just as it happens. It is too bad, a great deal -too bad!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Beauty heard the despairing tone, and turning -softly round, tilted the board backwards in spite of -Edwin's efforts to stop him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was no such thing as getting it into position -again. All Edwin could do was to mark the spot and -leave it lying on the ground. Then he jumped on -Beauty and trotted off to the tent, for the rain which -Hal had predicted was beginning fast. The sodden -canvas flapped heavily in the storm-wind. The -tent-poles were loosened in the softened mud, and seemed -ready to fall with every gust, as Edwin rode up -disheartened and weary, expecting to find Lawford had -arrived before him. No such thing. Hal was worn -out with waiting, and was very cross.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It is only the few who can stand through such days -of repeated disaster with patience and temper -unexhausted. There has been some schooling in adversity -before men attain to that. Edwin was taking his -lesson early in life, but he had not learned it yet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hal would have it Edwin had lost himself, and -called him a young fool for not sticking close to his -companion, who was no doubt looking for him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He started off in high dudgeon to "coo" for Lawford, -and bring on the board Edwin had left by the way.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Father and son were alone. The rain pouring -through the tent seemed to rouse Mr. Lee to -consciousness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am hurt, Edwin," he said; "yet not so much -as they think. But is there not any place of shelter -near we can crawl into? This rain will do me more -harm than the fall of the tree. If this state of -things continues, we shall be washed away into the mud."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Edwin's heart was aching sorely when Hal returned -with the board. Mr. Lee looked up with eyes which -told them plainly the clouded understanding was -regaining its power.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The old man saw it with pleasure, He knew even -better than Mr. Lee that the steady rain was changing -the mud to swamp. They must lose no time in -getting away, at least to firmer ground.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was looking about him for the nearest hill. -He had made his plan; but he wanted Lawford's help -to carry it out.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He will come back soon," said Edwin confidently, -feeling pretty sure Lawford had gone across to the -lake to give Nga-Hepé his bag.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hal was more puzzled than ever at his mate's -disappearance, and again he wanted to know why the -two had parted company. Edwin was so -downhearted about his father, and so badgered by Hal's -questionings and upbraidings, he knew not what to -say or do.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hal wrapped Mr. Lee in the blanket, and with -Edwin's assistance laid him on the board. It was a -little less wet than the sodden ground. He bound -him to it with the cord which had tied up Beauty's hay.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There," he said, as he pulled the last knot tight, -"we can lift you now without upsetting my splints. -They are but a bungling affair, master; but bad is -the best with us."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Try as Edwin would he was not strong enough to -lift the board from the ground. The old man saw it -too, and pushed him aside impatiently.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"See what you have brought on us all," he said, -or rather muttered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I could not help it," repeated Edwin bitterly; "but -I don't mind anything you say to me, Hal, for you -have stuck by father and cared for him, when he -would have died but for you. Don't despair; I'll go -and look for Lawford."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You!" returned Hal contemptuously; "you'll lose -yourself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Edwin, who thought he could guess where -Lawford was to be found, could not be turned from -his purpose.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Can't I cross the bush once more, for father's -sake," he asked, "whilst I have got my horse?" -He called up Beauty and told him to go home. -Edwin found the whare by the lake deserted. After -his abrupt departure with Ottley, Nga-Hepé had -roused himself to assist his father-in-law in making -an equal distribution of the food; and then they -gathered the men around the fire and held a council.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With two such leaders as Nga-Hepé and Kakiki, -they reached the wise decision to seek a safer place -beyond the anger of the gods, and build a temporary -kainga, or unwalled village, where food was to be -obtained, where the fern still curled above the ground, -and the water gushed pure from the spring. The -men of the pah yielded as they listened to the -eloquent words of the aged chief; and though they -passed the night in speechifying until the malcontents -were overawed, the morning found them hard at -work digging out their canoes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As Edwin approached the lake he saw the little -fleet cautiously steering its way through the -mud-shoals and boulders towards the river.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The wind was moaning through the trees, and the -unroofed whare was filling with the rains.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>While Edwin surveyed the desolate scene, he -perceived a small canoe coming swiftly towards his side -of the lake. He watched it run aground amongst the -bent and broken reeds, swaying hither and thither in -the stormy wind. Suddenly he observed a small, -slight figure wading knee-deep through the sticky -slime. It was coming towards him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A bird flew off from its shoulder, and the -never-to-be-forgotten sound of "Hoké" rang through the air.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Whero, Whero!" shouted Edwin joyfully; and -turning Beauty's head he went to meet him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Whero waved him back imperiously; for he -knew the horse could find no foothold in the -quagmire he was crossing. He was leaping now like a -frog, as Edwin averred; but there are no frogs in -New Zealand, so Whero could not understand the -allusion as Edwin held out his hand to help him on. -Then the kaka, shaking the water from his dripping -wings, flew towards Edwin and settled on his wrist -with a joyous cry of recognition.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Take him," gasped Whero; "keep him as you -have kept my Beauty. The ungrateful pigs were -to kill him—to kill and eat my precious redbreast; -but he soared into the air at my call, and they -could not catch him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Edwin's boyish sympathies were all ablaze for his -outraged friend. "Is that their Maori gratitude," he -exclaimed, "when it was your kaka which guided -me to the spot?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"When I told them so," sobbed Whero, "they -laughed, and said, 'We will stick his feathers in our -hair by way of remembrance.' They shall not have -him or his feathers. They shall eat me first. I will -take him back to the hill which no man cares to -climb. I will live with dead men's bones and despise -their tapu; but no man shall eat my kaka."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>During the outpouring of Whero's wrath, Edwin -had small chance of getting an answer to his anxious -question. "Are not those your people rowing across -the lake? Is Lawford with them? Did he bring -the bag to your father all right?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Whero looked at him incredulously. Edwin waved -his hand, and the Maori boy leaped up for once behind -him. He took the kaka from Edwin's wrist and -hugged it fondly whilst he listened to his explanations -about Lawford.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It was I," interposed Whero, "who was staying -behind to dig up the bag by the white pines. Did -my father think I would not go when I ran off to -call away my kaka? Where could he meet this -pakeha and I not know, that he should trust him to -look for his hoard? as if any one beside me or my -mother could find it. Kito!" (lies.)</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the pelting rain cut short his wonder, as -Edwin urged everything else must give way to the -pressing necessity of finding some better shelter for -Mr. Lee. It was useless to look for Lawford any -longer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You will help me, Whero?" entreated Edwin -earnestly, as they turned the horse's head towards the -small brown tent. It was lying flat, blown down by -the wind in their absence. Hal had folded up the -canvas, and was pacing up and down in a very dismal -fashion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Father," said Edwin, springing to the ground, -"I can't find Lawford; but this Maori boy was going -to a sheltered place high up in the hills. Will you let -us carry you there?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Anywhere, anywhere, out of this pond," replied Mr. Lee.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Have at it then!" cried Whero, seizing hold of -the board; but Hal called out to them to stay a bit. -By his direction they lifted Mr. Lee on his board and -laid it along the stout canvas. Hal tied up the ends -with the tent ropes, so that they could carry Mr. Lee -between them, slung, as it were, in a hammock. Hal -supported his head, and the two boys his feet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was a slow progression. Whero led them round -to another part of the hill, where an ancient fissure in -its rugged side offered a more gradual ascent. It was -a stairway of nature's making, between two walls of -rock. Stones were lying about the foot, looking as if -they might have been hurled from above on the head -of some reckless invader in the old days of tribal -violence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Edwin had well named it an ogre's castle. It was -a mountain fastness in every sense, abandoned and -decayed. As they gained the summit, Edwin could -see how the hand of man had added to its natural -strength. Piles of stones still guarded the stairway -from above, narrowing it until two could scarcely -walk abreast, and they lay there still, a ready heap of -ammunition, piled by the warrior hands sleeping in -Tarawera.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Whero sent his kaka on before him. "See," he -exclaimed to Edwin, "the bird flies fearless over the -blighted ground, and you came back to me unharmed. -I will conquer terror by your side, and take possession -of my own. Who should live upon the hill of Hepé -but his heir! Am I not lord and first-born? Count -off the moons quickly when I shall carry the -greenstone club, and make the name of Hepé famous among -the tribes, as my mother said. This shall be my -home, and my kaka shall live in it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They were trampling through the dry brown fern -on the hill-top, and here Whero would willingly have -bivouacked. But Hal, who knew nothing of the -traditionary horrors which clung to the spot, pushed on -to the shelter within the colonnade. No tent was -needed here. They laid their helpless burden on the -ground and stretched their cramped arms. Whero's -tall talk brought an odd twinkle of amusement into -the corner of Hal's gray eye as he glanced around him -humorously. "It is my lord baron, as we say in -England, then," he answered, with a nod to Whero: -"but it looks like my barren lord up here." Whero -did not understand the old man's little joke, and -Edwin busied himself with his father.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Whero descended the hill again and fetched up -Beauty, who was as expert a climber as his former -owner, and neighed with delight when he found -himself once more amid the rustling fern. Dry and -withered as Edwin had thought it, to Beauty it was -associated with all the joys of early days, when he -trotted a graceful foal by his mother's side. Like -Whero, he was in his native element.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The proud boy rolled a big stone across the end of -the path by which they had climbed up, and then feeling -himself secure, began to execute a kind of war-dance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Stop your antics," said Hal, cowering against the -gigantic trunk which was sheltering Mr. Lee from the -keen winds, "and tell us what that means." He -pointed to a huge white thing towering high above -his head, with open beak and outstretched claw—a -giant, wingless bird, its dry bones rattling with every -gust.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is a skeleton," said Edwin, walking nearer to -it to take off the creepy feeling it awakened.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is a moa," said Whero, continuing his dance—"the -big old bird which used to build among these -hills until my forefathers ate him up. They had -little to eat but the fern, the shark, and the moa, -until the pakeha came with his pigs and his sheep. -There may be one alive in the heights of Mount -Cook, but we often find their skeletons in desolate -places." Then Whero went up close to the quivering -bones, and cried out with exultation when he -discovered the hole in its breast through which the spear -of the Hepé had transfixed this ancient denizen of -his fortress.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is an unked place," muttered Hal, "but dry -to the feet."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He lit his pipe, and settled himself on the roots of -the tree for a smoke and a sleep. He had been -existing for so many days in the midst of the stifling -clouds of volcanic dust and the choking vapours from -the ground, through which chloride of iron gas was -constantly escaping for a space of fifty-six miles, that -the purer air to which they had ascended seemed like -life, and robbed the place of its habitual gloom.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Even Whero, with the Maori's reverential horror of -a dead man's bones, coiled himself to sleep in the -rustling fern by Beauty's side, his dream of future -greatness undisturbed by the rattling bones of the -moa, and the still more startling debris which -whitened amidst the gnarled and twisted roots.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But it was not so with Edwin. He sat beside his -father, feeding him with the undiluted bovril—for -water failed them on the rocky height—and -wondering how long the slender store would last. He -refused himself the smallest taste, and bore his hunger -without complaint, hiding the little jar with scrupulous -care, for fear Whero should find it and be tempted -to eat up the remainder of its contents. So he kept -his silent vigil. The storm-clouds cleared, and the -grandeur of the view upon which he gazed banished -every other thought. He could look down upon the -veil of mist which had hidden the sacred mountains, -and Tarawera rose before him in all its grandeur. -He saw the awful rent which had opened in the side -of the central peak, and from which huge columns of -smoke and steam were fitfully ascending. He watched -the leaping tongues of flame dart up like rockets to -the midnight sky, once more ablaze with starshine, -and a feeling to which he could give no expression -seemed to lift him beyond the present,—"Man does -not live by bread alone."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="who-has-been-here"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XV.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">WHO HAS BEEN HERE?</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"Edwin," said Mr. Lee, when he saw his son -shivering beside him in the gray of the -wintry morning, "what is the matter with you? -Have you had enough to eat?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not quite. Well, you see, father, we have to do -as we can," smiled Edwin, in reply.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Certainly; but where on earth have we got to?" -resumed the sick man, as he glanced upwards at the -interlacing boughs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We are high up in the hills, father, in one of the -old Maori fastnesses, where the mud and the flood -cannot reach us," answered Edwin.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And the children?" asked Mr. Lee.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Are all safe by the sea," was the quick reply.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Lee's ejaculations of thankfulness were an -unspeakable comfort to Edwin.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did not I hear the splash of oars last night?" -asked his father.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You might when Whero came. He guided us -here," said Edwin.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then," resumed his father, "try to persuade this -Maori to row you in his canoe down the river until -you come to an English farm. The colonists are all -so neighbourly and kind, they will sell or lend or -give you what we want most. Make the Maori bring -you back. You must pay him well; these Maoris will -do nothing without good pay. Remember that; but -there is plenty in the belt." Mr. Lee ceased speaking. -He was almost lost again, and Edwin dare not remind -him that the belt was gone. But Edwin knew if -Whero would do it at all, he would not want to be paid.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"With this leg," sighed Mr. Lee slowly and dreamily, -"I—am—a—fixture."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sleep was stealing over him, and Edwin did not -venture to reply.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A sympathetic drowsiness was visiting him also, -but he was roused out of it by seeing Hal busily -engaged in trying to capture the kaka.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is a good, fat bird," whispered the old man; -"they are first-rate eating in a pie. We can cook -him as we did the duck I found; put him in the -boiling mud as the natives do!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Up sprang Edwin to the rescue. "No, Hal, no; -you must not touch that bird!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He caught the old man's arm, and scared the kaka -off. The frightened bird soared upwards, and -concealed itself in the overarching boughs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Whero was awakened by its screams, and got up, -shaking the dry moss from his tangled shock of hair, -and laughing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Edwin called off attention from the kaka by -detailing his father's plan.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The breakfastless trio were of one mind. It must -be tried, as it offered the surest hope of relief. The -river was so much safer than the road. Ottley might -never have it in his power to send the promised help. -Some danger might have overwhelmed him also. What -was the use of waiting for the growing of the grass, if -a readier way presented itself? Hal spread out the -canvas of the tent to dry, and talked of putting it up -in the new location. Legs and arms were wonderfully -stiff from keeping on wet clothes. But the -most pressing want was water. Dry ground and -pure air were essential, but thirst was intolerable. -They took the cup by turns and went down to a -spring which Whero pointed out. Beauty had found -for himself a little pond, which nature had scooped -out, and the recent rains had filled with greenish -water which he did not despise.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Whilst Hal was away, Edwin intimated to Whero -that it was not very safe to leave his kaka with him; -for he feared the bird would be killed and eaten as -soon as they were gone, although he did not say so to -his Maori friend.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Whero's eyes were ablaze with rage in a moment. -"Let him touch it!" he snorted rather than hissed. -"I'll meet him. If it's here on the hill, I'll hurl him -over that precipice. If—if—" Edwin's eye was -fastened on the boy with a steady gaze. Whero -raised his clinched hand, as if to strike. "Tell him," -he went on—"tell him in our country here the mud -is ever boiling to destroy the Maori's foes. I'll push -him down the first jet we pass." He looked around -him proudly, and kicked away the skull beneath his -foot, as if to remind his listener how in that very -spot the threats in which he had been indulging -found plenty of precedent.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Edwin exerted all his self-command. He would -not suffer one angry or one fearful word to pass his -lips, although both anger and fear were rising in his -heart. But the effort to keep himself as cool and -quiet as he could was rewarded. Whero saw that he -was not afraid; and the uncontrollable passion of the -young savage expended itself in vain denunciations.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Edwin knew how the Maoris among themselves -despise an outburst of passion, and he tried to shame -Whero, saying, "Is that the way your warriors talk -at their councils? Ours are grave, and reason with -each other, until they find out the wisest course to -take. That is what I want to do as soon as we have -caught the kaka."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The catching of the macaw proved a safety-valve; -and Whero went down to the lake to get the canoe -ready, with the bird on his wrist.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Edwin ran back to beg Hal to return to his father, -as he and Whero were hurrying off to the lake. He -had saved a dangerous quarrel, but it left him very -grave. He was more and more afraid of what Whero -might do in a moment of rage. "Oh, I am excessively -glad, I am thankful," he thought, "that I was -not forced to leave him alone with Effie and Cuthbert!" It -was well that Whero was rowing, for the exertion -seemed to calm him. Edwin escaped from the difficulty -of renewing their conversation by beginning to -sing, and Whero, with all the Maori love of music, -was easily lured to listen as "Merry may the keel -row" echoed from bank to bank, and the splash of -his paddle timed itself to the words of the song.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Edwin assured him he was singing to keep the -kaka quiet, which had nestled on his folded arms, -and was looking up in his face with evident enjoyment. -As they paddled on the old ford-horse stepped -out into the water to hear him, so they stopped the -canoe and went ashore to pull him out his hay. He -followed them for nearly half-a-mile, and they lost -sight of him at last as they rounded the bend in the -river. He was fording his way across the huge bed -of shingle, over which the yellow, rattling, foaming -torrent wandered at will. The tiny canoe shot forward, -borne along without an effort by the force of the -stream. With difficulty they turned its head to -zigzag round a mighty boulder, hurled from its mountain -home by the recent convulsions.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Even now as the river came tearing down from the -heights above, it was bringing with it tons upon tons of -silt and shingle and gravel. The roar of these stones, -as they rolled over each other and crashed and dashed -in the bed of the flood, was louder than the angry -surges on the tempestuous shore when Edwin saw the -coaster going down. The swift eddies and -undertows thus created made rowing doubly dangerous, -and called forth Whero's utmost skill.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the signs of desolation on the river-banks were -growing fainter. Between the blackened tracts where -the lightning had fired the fern broken and storm-bent -trees still lifted their leafless boughs, and shook -the blue dust which weighed them down into the eyes -of the travellers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Here and there a few wild mountain sheep, which -had strayed through the broken fences of the run, -were feeding up-wind to keep scent of danger. But -other sign of life there was none, until they sighted -an English-built boat painfully toiling along against -the force of the current. They hailed it with a shout, -and Edwin's heart leaped with joy as he distinguished -Mr. Hirpington's well-known tones in the heartiness -of the reply. "Well met, boys. Come with us."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They were soon alongside, comparing notes and -answering inquiries. Dunter, who plied the other oar, -nodded significantly to Edwin. He had encountered -Ottley, and received his warning as to the depredations -likely to ensue if the ford-house were left to -itself much longer. He had started off to find the -governor.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The good old forder was still scraping amongst -the shingle, and when he saw his master in the -boat, he came plunging through the water to meet -him with such vehemence he almost caused an upset. -But the stairs were close at hand, and as Mr. Hirpington -often declared, he and his old horse had long -ago turned amphibious. They came out of the water -side by side, shaking themselves like Newfoundland -dogs. It was marvellous to Mr. Hirpington to -discover that his old favourite had taken no harm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He is a knowing old brute," said Dunter. But -when they saw the writing on the shutter, they knew -where he had found a friend. The pipe-clay was -smeared by the rain, but the little that was legible -"gave me a prick," said Mr. Hirpington, "I cannot -well stand."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A great deal of the mud had been washed on to -Ottley's tarpaulin, which had been pushed aside by -the fury of the storm, as Mr. Hirpington was inclined -to think. But there were footprints on the bank of -mud jamming up doors and windows—recent footprints, -impressed upon it since the storm. Dunter -could trace them over the broken roof. They were -not Edwin's. Dunter pointed to the impression just -left by his boot as the boy climbed up to them. That -was conclusive.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If it were any poor fellow in search of food under -circumstances like these, I would not say a word," -remarked Mr. Hirpington.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Dunter found a firmer footing for himself, and -getting hold of the edge of the sheet of iron, he forced -it up, and with his master's help dislodged a half-ton -weight of mud, which went down into the river with -a mighty splash. To escape from the shower-bath, -which deluged both them and the roof, the three -jumped down into the great farm kitchen. There all -was slime, and a sulphurous stench vitiated the atmosphere.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We can't breathe here," said Mr. Hirpington, seizing -Edwin's arm and mounting him on the dining-table.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The muddy slush into which they had plunged was -almost level with its top. The door into the bedroom -was wrenched off, and lodged against it, forming a -kind of bridge over the mud. But there was one -thing which the earthquake, the mud, and the storm -could never have effected. They could not have filled -the sacks lying on the other end of the long tables. -That could only have been done by human hands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They were all three on the table now. Mr. Hirpington -untied the nearest sack, and pushed his arm -inside.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Some of our good Christchurch blankets and my -best coat," he muttered. "I have no need to make -them in a worse state with my muddy hands. Leave -them where they are for the present," he continued, -turning to Dunter, who began to empty out the -contents of the other sacks.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Hirpington looked about for his gun. It was -in its old place, lying across the boar's tusks, fixed -like pegs against the opposite wall. It was -double-barrelled, and he knew he had left it loaded for the -night as usual.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You must get that down, Dunter," he said, "and -mount guard here, whilst I take young Lee back to -his father. That must be the first concern. When I -return we must set to work in earnest—bail out this -slush, mend the roof over the bedroom to the river, -where it is least damaged, and live in it whilst we -clear the rest. Light and air are to be had there still, -for the windows on that side are clear. More's the -pity we did not stay there. But when that awful -explosion came, my wife and I rushed into the kitchen, -and so did most of the men. I was tugging at the -outer door, which would not open, and 'cooing' with -all my might, when the crash came, and I knew no -more until I found myself in the boat."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I was a prisoner in my little den," put in Dunter; -"and I kept up the 'coo' till Mr. Lee came, for I -could not open door or window though I heard your -groans."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, Lee must be our first care. We owe our -lives to him alone; understand that, all of you. He -had us out before anybody else arrived," Mr. Hirpington -went on, as he heaved up the fallen door and -made a bridge with it from the table to the back of -the substantial sofa, over which his gun was lying. -From such a mount he could reach it easily. Was -there anything else they required? He looked around -him. Dunter had got possession of a boat-hook, and -was fishing among the kettles and saucepans under -the dresser. The bacon, which had been drying on -the rack laid across the beams of the unceiled roof, -had all gone down into the mud; but the solid beams -themselves had not given way, only the ties were -dislodged and broken, with the iron covering. All the -crockery on the shelves of course was smashed. A -flying dish had struck Mrs. Hirpington on the head -and laid her senseless before the rain of mud began. -But her husband had more to do now than to recount -the how and the why of their disaster.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was hastily gathering together such things -within reach as might be most needed by the sufferer -on the hills. A kettle and a pan and a big cooking-spoon, -which Dunter had fished out, were tied up in -the Christchurch blanket dislodged from the sack, and -slung across Mr. Hirpington's shoulder. Dunter made -his way into the bedroom, and pulled out a couple of -pillows. Here, he asserted, some one must have been -before him; for muddy footsteps had left their mark -on the top of the chest of drawers and across the -bed-quilt, and no mud had entered there ere the -Hirpingtons fled. Yet muddy fingers had left their -impress high up on wardrobe-doors and on -window-curtains, which had been drawn back to -admit the light. Over this room the roof had not given -way. The inference was clear—some one had entered it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Hirpington glanced up from the bundle he was -tying, and spoke aside to Edwin: "You knew the man -Ottley surprised in the house?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," answered Edwin; "he was one of the -rabbiters. I thought he was looking for food, as we -were. Mr. Ottley did not say anything to me about -his suspicions. Somebody else may have got in since -then, Mr. Hirpington."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Certainly, certainly," was the answer, and the -three emerged again into daylight.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As they stood upon the roof shaking and scraping -the mud from each other, Edwin looked round for -Whero.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Whoever filled these sacks," observed Mr. Hirpington, -when he was alone with Dunter, "means to come -back and fetch them. Be on the watch, for I must -leave you here alone."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Dunter was no stranger to the Maori boy, and -invited him to share in the good things he was -unloading from the boat, thinking to secure himself a -companion. Whilst he was talking of pork-pies and -cheese, Edwin suggested the loan of a spade and a pail.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A' right!" exclaimed Whero, with a nod of -intelligence; "I'll have both."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, take all," laughed Edwin, as he ran down the -boating-stairs after Mr. Hirpington, who was -impatient to be off. Whero followed his friend to the -water's edge to rub noses ere they parted. The -grimaces with which Edwin received this final token -of affection left Dunter shaking with laughter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I go to dig by the white pines," said Whero.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But you will come back to the hill of Hepé. We -shall have food enough for us all," returned Edwin, -pointing to the boat in which Mr. Hirpington was -already seated.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="loss-and-suspicion"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XVI.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">LOSS AND SUSPICION.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The great hole which Lawford had made in the -mud was not yet filled up. He had walled -the sides with broken branches, damming up the mud -behind him as he dug his way to the roots of the -white pines.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Of course the mud was slowly oozing through these -defences, and might soon swallow them up. But -Whero felt he was just in time. He dipped out a -pail or two from the bottom, and felt about for the -original hole in which he had hidden the bag. His -foot went into the hole unawares. He was not long -in satisfying himself that the treasure was gone. It -was too heavy to float away. However great the -depth of mud might be above, it should still be in -the hole where he had hidden it. He had covered it -over with bark. The bark was there, but the bag -was gone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He went back to the ford. Dunter was at work -dipping out the slime from the farm-house kitchen. -The boy did not wait to speak to him, but pushed off -his canoe and paddled away down the river to find -his mother. Dunter had promised to take care of his -kaka during his absence. Well, if that were -prolonged, he would take care of it all the same, so -Whero reasoned, as he was carried along by the rapid -current.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was watching for the first sign of the Maori -encampment, which he knew he should find beyond -the vast tract which had been desolated by the rain -of mud. The canoe shot onward, until the first leaf -became visible on the evergreens, and the fish were -once more leaping in the water. The terraced banks -of the river were broken here and there with deep -gulches and sunken canyons. It was in one of these -retreats that he was expecting to find the Maori -tents.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The river was rushing deep and swift as before, but -its margin was now studded with reeds and ti trees. -The crimson heads of the great water-hens were -poking out of their midst to stare at him, and flocks -of ducks rose noisily from their reedy beds.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Whero began to sing one of the wild and plaintive -native melodies. But his voice was almost drowned by -the roar of the whirling stones, and his passage was -continually impeded by the masses of drift-wood—great -arms of trees, and uprooted trunks—striking against -the boulders and threatening him with an upset.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yet he still sang on, until a low, sweet echo -answered him from the bank, and he saw his mother -gathering fern by the water's edge.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The canoe was quickly run aground, and he leaped -ashore to join her. Then he saw that his grandfather -Kakiki Mahane was sitting on a stone not far off. -Whero walked up a little ashamed of his behaviour; -but for him Marileha had no reproaches, for he was -the bitter-sweet which changed her joy to pain and -her pain to joy continually.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She hailed his return, for her heart was aching for -her baby, which could not survive their terrible -entombment. She pointed to the bend in the ravine, -where one or two small whares had been hastily built. -Two uprights in the ground, with a pole across, had -been walled with mats, roughly and quickly woven -from flax-leaf and bulrush. Every Maori had been -hard at work, and work could get them all they -wanted here, except the hot stone and the geyser-bath.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With her own hands Marileha had cooked them -what she called a good square dinner.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the ideal life of the Maori is one of perfect -laziness, and as a Maori lady Marileha had enjoyed -this from her birth. Her old father was trying to -comfort her. She should go back with him to her -own people. She should not stay where the fish had -to be caught, and the wild duck snared, and the wild -pig hunted, and then brought to her to kindle a fire -to cook them, when he was a rich man, who could -live like his kinsmen at Hawke's Bay, hire a grand -house of the pakeha, and pay white servants to do -everything for them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The prospect was an alluring one, but Marileha did -not believe anything would induce Nga-Hepé to -abandon his native hills even for a season.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Have I not sat in the councils of the pakeha?" -argued Kakiki. "Do I not see our people giving -place to theirs? The very rat they have brought -over seas drives away our kiore [the native rat], and -we see him no more. Have I not ever said, Let your -young lord and first-born go amongst them, that he -may learn their secret and hold his own in manhood -against them?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have learned it," put in Whero: "it is 'work.' Was -it for this, mother, you sent a pakeha to dig up -the bag we buried by the white pines?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marileha hushed her son as she glanced nervously -around, for none of her Maori companions must know -of the existence of that bag.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Foolish boy," she said softly, "what pakeha had -we to send? The bag is safe where we hid it; no one -but you or I could find it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then it is stolen," exclaimed Whero, "for the bag -is gone."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They questioned him closely. How had he -discovered that the bag was gone? As they walked -away to find Nga-Hepé, the old patriarch laid his -hand on his daughter's arm, remarking in a low aside. -which was not intended for Whero's ear, as he did -not wish to excite his indignation,—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is the farmer's son who has had it; no one -else knew of it. Our own people cannot help in this -matter; we must go to the pakeha chiefs."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the meantime, whilst Whero was disclosing the -loss of the buried treasure, Edwin was marching over -the waste by Mr. Hirpington's side. The heavy load -they had to carry when they left the boat made them -very slow; but on they toiled to the foot of the hill, -when Mr. Hirpington's ready "coo" brought Hal to -their assistance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He looked very white and trembling—a mere -ghost of his former self. Mr. Hirpington could -hardly recognize him. He was down in heart as -well, for his pipe, his sole remaining solace, had -burned out just half-an-hour before he heard the -welcome "coo" at the foot of the hill.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For a moment the two men stood regarding each -other as men regard the survivals of a dread catastrophe.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lord bless you, sir," said Hal. "I never thought -to see you again, looking so hale and hearty."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't talk about looks, Hal. Why, you are but -a walking skeleton!" exclaimed Mr. Hirpington. -"But cheer up," he added,—"the worst is over; we -shall pull ourselves together now. Lend a hand with -this basket up the steep."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The climb before them was something formidable -to the genial speaker.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Edwin was already lost to view beneath the -overhanging wall of rock which shadowed the cleft. -They had trodden down a pathway through the fern; -but the ascent was blocked by Beauty, who seemed -resolute to upset the load on Edwin's head, as he had -upset the board in the bush. In vain did Edwin -apostrophize him, and thunder out a succession of -"whoas" and "backs," and "Stand you still, you -stupid, or you will roll me over." It was all of no -use. He was obliged to shunt his burden on to the -heap of stones; and Beauty, with a neigh of delight, -came a little closer, so that he too might rub his nose -against Edwin's cheek.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't you mean to let me pass, you silly old -fellow? Well, then, I won't turn baker's boy any -more; and what I want to carry I'll carry on my -back, as you do. There!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Edwin at last seized Beauty by the forelock, -and forcing him to one side, squeezed by.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Edwin!" called his father, and a feeble hand was -lifted to beckon him nearer, "what are you bringing?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Pillows, father, pillows," he cried, as he -stumbled over the twisted roots, half blinded by the -sombre gloom beneath those giant trees where his -father was lying. Edwin slipped out of his sandwich -with exceeding celerity. A pillow was under the -poor aching head in another minute, and a second -propping the bruised shoulders, and Edwin stood by -his father, smiling with the over-brimming joy of a -grand success.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then he denuded himself of the blanket, which -he had been wearing like a Highlander's plaid, and -wrapped it over the poor unfortunate, cramping in -the bleak mountain air with cold and hunger.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Father," he went on cheerily, "the worst is over. -Mr. Hirpington is here. He has come to see after -you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Too late, too late," moaned Mr. Lee. "I fear I -am done for. The activity of my days is over, Edwin; -and what remains to us?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We don't know yet, father," answered the boy, -gravely. "I'm young and ever so strong, and if I've -only got you to tell me what to do, I can do a lot."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But, Edwin, have you seen anything of my belt?" -asked Mr. Lee, collecting his wandering thoughts.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Edwin shook his head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What has become of it?" repeated the sick man -nervously, as Mr. Hirpington appeared above the -stones. Edwin went to meet him, and to gather -together the remainder of his load, which he had left -for Beauty to inspect at will.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A horse up here!" exclaimed Mr. Hirpington. -"He must have the feet and knees of a goat."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I think he has," answered Edwin, backing his -favourite to a respectful distance as Mr. Hirpington -stepped on to the top of the hill, panting and puffing -from the toilsomeness of the long ascent.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He looked around him bewildered, and followed -Edwin into the dim recesses beyond the gloomy -colonnade of trees, whose hoary age was beyond their -reckoning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am the most miserable of men!" he exclaimed, -as he stooped over his prostrate friend, and clasped -the hand which had saved him at such a cost. "How -do I find you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Alive," answered Mr. Lee, "and likely to live, a -burden—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no, father," interposed Edwin.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't say that!" exclaimed Mr. Hirpington, -winking hard to get rid of a certain moisture about the -eyelids very unusual to him. "To think how I have -been living in clover all these days whilst you were -lying here, it unmans me. But where on earth are -you bivouacking? in a charnel-house?" He ceased -abruptly with a shudder, as he discovered it was a -human skull he was crushing beneath the heel of his -boot.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hal was busy with the basket, and Edwin ran off -to his assistance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sit down, Hal, and begin to eat," urged Edwin. -"Now I have come back let me see after father."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the sight of the longed-for food was too much -for the old man. He began to cry like a child.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>If the first glance into the full basket had been -more than poor Hal could bear, the first taste was a -sight from which Mr. Hirpington had to turn away. -The one great object before him and Edwin was to -get the two to eat, for the starving men seemed at -first to refuse the food they were craving for; in fact -they could hardly bear it. Mr. Lee put back the -cold meat and bread, unable to swallow more; so -Edwin at once turned stoker, and lit up a jolly fire -of sticks and drying roots.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We must get them something hot," said Mr. Hirpington, -opening one of the many tins of soup which -he had brought with him. Soon the savoury contents -of the steaming kettle brought back a shadow of -English comfort.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Hirpington had passed many a night of camping -out before he settled down at the ford, and he set to -work like an old hand. The canvas of the tent was -stretched from tree to tree and well pegged down, so -as to form a screen on the windward side. The dry -moss and still drier fern that could be collected about -the brow of the hill where Beauty was ranging, were -brought in and strewed over the gnarled and twisted -roots, until they gained a warm and comparatively -level floor, with an excrescence here and there which -served them for a seat. The basket was hung up to -preserve its remaining contents from the inspection -of centipedes and crawling things, for which Edwin as -yet had no nomenclature.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then the men pulled up their collars to their ears, -set their backs against the wind, lit a well-filled pipe, -and laid their plans. The transfer of Mr. Hirpington's -tobacco-pouch to Hal's pocket had brought back -a gleam of sunshine—wintry sunshine, it must be -confessed; but who could look for more? Mr. Lee, -too, was undeniably better. The shake his brains -had received was going over. He was once more -able to listen and understand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have telegraphed to Auckland," explained -Mr. Hirpington. "I shall have my store of corrugated -iron by the next coaster, and Middleton's barge will -bring it up to the ford. Thank God for our -waterways, there is no stoppage there! I have always -kept to the river. But, old friend, before we mend -up my own house we must get a roof over your head. -There is not a man under me who will not be eager -to help us at that; and we cannot do much to the -road until the mud hardens thoroughly, so for once -there will be help to be had. We are booked for the -night up here; but to-morrow I propose to take your -boy with me, and go over to your place and see the -state it is in. A wooden house stands a deal of -earthquaking. Edwin thinks it was the chimney -came down. We must put you up an iron one. You -have plenty of timber ready felled to mend the roof, -and rushes are growing to hand. It is only the work -that has to be done, and we all know how to work in -New Zealand."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh ay," chimed in old Hal; "most on us sartinly -do, and this little chap ain't no foreigner there."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was already nodding. The comforting influences -of the soup and the pipe were inviting the -return of "tired nature's sweet restorer." By-and-by -he slipped from his seat upon the soft moss, and was -lost to every trouble in balmy sleep. Edwin covered -him up, feeling rich in the possession of a blanket for -every one of the party.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The wintry twilight was gathering round them, -cold and chill. The skeleton of the bird monster -rattled and shook, and gleamed in spectral whiteness -between the blackness of the shadows flung by the -interlacing boughs. A kiore working amongst the -dry bones seemed to impart a semblance of life to -them which effectually banished sleep from Mr. Hirpington, -who persuaded Edwin to come closer to him, -declaring the boy looked frightened; and well he -might, for who but a clod could lay his head on such -a floor?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Assured at last that Hal was lost to all outward -perception, Mr. Lee whispered the story of his loss. -The belt was gone—taken from him whilst he was -unconscious. No doubt about that. Mr. Hirpington -described the state in which he found his house—the -three sackfuls ready to be carried off. Edwin -thought he had better tell his father now of the -digging up of Whero's treasure.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There is a thief amongst us," said Mr. Hirpington, -"and suspicion points to the gang of rabbiters."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, not to Hal," interposed Mr. Lee; "not to all. -We may yet find the belt."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was growing excited and restless. He had -talked too much.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I must have this matter over with Dunter," was -Mr. Hirpington's conclusion, when he saw how unable -poor Mr. Lee was to bear any lengthened conversation. -Before they settled to sleep he charged Edwin to be -very careful, and not let any alteration in his manner -put the old man on his guard.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The three arose in the gray of the morning with -renewed energy. To take Beauty to water, to light -a fire and prepare a breakfast in the solitary fastness, -left scant time for any further discussion. But second -thoughts told Mr. Lee that in such strange circumstances -loss was almost inevitable. If his belt had been -taken off when his leg was set, it might have been -dropped in the all-surrounding mud and never missed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"True, true," answered Mr. Hirpington, and leaving -Mr. Lee to his son's care, he strolled across to the fire, -where Hal was brewing the morning coffee, and began -to question him about the accident—how and where -the tree fell. But no new light was thrown upon -the loss. It was hopeless to dig about in the mud, -supposing Mr. Lee's last surmise to be correct. He -determined to ride Beauty to the ford and look round -the scene of the disaster with Edwin.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The day was well up when he stepped across the -sunken fence which used to guard his own domain, -and found Dunter fixing a pail at the end of the -boat-hook to facilitate the bailing out of the mud.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Maori boy had deserted him, he said, and a -fellow single-handed could do little good at work like -his. No one else had been near the place. He had -kept his watch-fire blazing all night as the best scare -to depredators. In Dunter's opinion prevention was -the only cure. With so many men wandering homeless -about the hills, and with so many relief-parties -marching up in every direction, there was sure to be -plenty of pilfering, but who could track it home?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The hope of discovering the belt appeared to grow -less and less.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What shall we do without the money?" lamented -Edwin, as he continued his journey with his father's -friend. "Trouble seems to follow trouble."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It does," said Mr. Hirpington; "for one grows -out of another. But you have not got it all, my boy; -for my land, which would have sold for a pound an -acre last Saturday week, is not worth a penny with -all this depth of volcanic mud upon it. Nothing can -grow. But when we get to your father's, where the -deposit is only a few inches deep, we shall find the land -immensely improved. It will have doubled its value."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As they drew nearer to the little valley the road -grew better. The mud had dried, and the fern -beneath it was already forcing its way through the -crust. The once sparkling rivulet was reduced to a -muddy ditch, choked with fallen trees and stones, -which the constant earthquaking had shaken down -from the sides of the valley.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Beauty took his way to the familiar gate, and -neighed. Edwin jumped down and opened it. All -was hopeful here, as Mr. Hirpington had predicted. -The ground might have been raised a foot, but the -house had not been changed into a cellar. The -daylight shone through the windows, broken as they -were. The place was deluged, not entombed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You might return to-morrow," said Mr. Hirpington. -"This end of the house is uninjured."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The chimney was down, it was true, the sleeping-rooms -were demolished, but the workshop and storeroom -were habitable. Whilst Mr. Hirpington considered -the roof, Edwin ran round and peeped in at -the broken windows. Dirt and confusion reigned -everywhere, but no trace as yet of unwelcome visitors. -A feeble mew attracted his attention, and Effie's kitten -popped up its little head from the fallen cupboard in -which it had evidently been exploring. It was fat -and well. An unroofed pantry had been its -hunting-ground; not the little room at the other end of the -veranda, but a small latticed place which Mr. Lee -had made to keep the uncooked meat in. The leg of -a wild pig and a brace of kukas or wild pigeons, -about twice the size of their English namesake, were -still hanging on the hooks where Audrey had left them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The leg of pork had been nibbled all round, and -the heads were torn from the pigeons.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lucky Miss Kitty," said Edwin. "We thought -you had got the freedom of the bush, and here you've -been living in luxury whilst the rest of the world -was starving. Come; you must go shares, you darling!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It clawed up the wall, and almost leaped into his -arms, to be covered with kisses and deafened with -promises which were shouted out in the joy of his -heart, until Mr. Hirpington began to wonder what -had happened.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My boy, have you gone quite crazy?" he -exclaimed. "Why don't you look after your -horse? you will lose him!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Edwin looked round, and saw Beauty careering up -the side of the valley. He shut the kitten carefully -into the workshop. Mr. Hirpington had just got the -other door open, and came out to assist in recalling -Beauty to his duty.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Edwin started off after his horse; but he had not -gone far when he was aware of another call, to which -his Beauty paid more heed than he seemed disposed -to show to Edwin's reiterated commands to come back.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The call was in Maori, and in a few minutes -Nga-Hepé himself emerged from the bush and seized the -horse by the forelock.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="edwin-in-danger"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XVII.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">EDWIN IN DANGER.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>When Mr. Hirpington came up he found his -little English friend in earnest argument -with the Maori warrior.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nga-Hepé's looks were excited and wild. He was -carrying the famous greenstone club, which he -brandished every now and then in the heat of the -conversation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come with me," he was saying peremptorily—"come -with me and find the man."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I cannot," answered Edwin, toughly. "I cannot -leave my father. Take the horse, if you will, and -follow the tracks in the mud. I will show you which -is Lawford's footprint."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Show me the man, and I will believe you," -retorted Nga-Hepé, swinging himself lightly upon -Beauty's back as he spoke.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Edwin glanced round at Mr. Hirpington. It was -a look which said, "Stand by me." The appeal was -mute, and he answered it neither by word nor sign. -Edwin thought despairingly he had not understood -him, but a hand was laid on his shoulder. He almost -fancied he was pushed aside, as Mr. Hirpington spoke -to Nga-Hepé in his cheeriest tones:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well met, old neighbour. Both of us above -ground once again, thank God in his mercy. As for -me and mine, we were fairly buried alive, and should -have died under the mud but for this lad's father. -We left everything and fled for our lives, and so it -was with most of us. But now the danger is over, -I have come back to look after my property, and find -a thief has been there before me. According to this -boy's account, I am afraid the same fellow has walked -off with something of yours. But I have a plan to -catch him, and you are the one to help me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A' right," answered the Maori. "You catch your -man, I catch my boy. Man and boy go hand in hand."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," said Edwin stoutly; "I have nothing to do -with Lawford."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nga-Hepé raised his club. "You, who but you," -he asked, "watched my wife dig hole? Who but -you set foot on the spot? Who but you say, 'Man -dig here'? I'll make you say a little more. Which -had the bag?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have never seen or touched the bag since I gave -it back to your wife Marileha on the night of the -tana's visit," answered Edwin.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A' right," repeated Nga-Hepé. "No, you are not -a' right, or you would go with me to find the man; -for who but you knows who he is? If you won't, -you are a' wrong, and I have come here to kill you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>An exasperated savage on horseback, with a club -in his hand, was no mean foe. Edwin thought of -old Hal's words. Was it a bad day's work which -restored Nga-Hepé to life? But he answered himself -still with an unwavering "No."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are returning me evil for good," said Edwin -quietly. "Whero would not have dared to follow the -kaka over the mud if I had not gone with him; but -for me you would have been a dead man. Ask -Whero—ask your own son."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I take no counsel with boys," answered the Maori -loftily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Neither do I think overmuch of boys," interposed -Mr. Hirpington; "but we will keep young Lee with -us, and all go together and find the man if possible. -Yet with you on his back that horse will go like the -wind. How are we to keep up with you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You have ridden behind me before," said -Nga-Hepé, turning to Edwin; "you can do it again."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Only I won't," thought Edwin; but aloud he said, -"So I could, but then there is Mr. Hirpington. What -is he to do?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah!" put in the latter, taking out his pipe and -lighting it deliberately, "the question is not how we -shall go, but which way. The relief-parties are -beginning to disperse. Now, Nga-Hepé, I am as -earnestly desiring to help you as I am to defend -myself. Only I see plainly if we try to follow the -fellow among these wild hills we shall miss him. -He belongs to a gang of rabbiters. I know their -leader. Let him call his chums together. I'll provide -the lure—a reward and a jolly good dinner for every -one of the poor fellows who came so gallantly to our -help at the risk of their own lives. We must bear -in mind that after Mr. Lee these rabbiters were the -first in the field. If there is a black sheep among -them, we shall have him. But I must get my own -men about me, and then we will confront him with -Edwin Lee, in the presence of them all."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your plan is good," answered the Maori. "Try -it and I try mine; then one or other of us will catch -him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That will be me," remarked Mr. Hirpington, in a -knock-down tone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Jump up!" cried Nga-Hepé, turning to Edwin.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no," interposed Mr. Hirpington; "it is I -who must have young Lee. I have left a watchman -at the ford ready to pounce on the thief if he should -return there for his booty. I may want this boy any -minute. Ride fast from camp to camp. Ask for any -of my roadmen among them, and give my message to -them. Ask if there are any rabbiters, and give the -other in Hal's name. I'll make it right with the -old man. We shall throw our net so wide this Lawford -can't escape our meshes. He must have got your -bag about him, and the other money I suspect he has -taken. We'll make him give it all up."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>No one was noticing Edwin. He made a slight -sound, which set Beauty off trotting, as he knew it -would.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The delight of feeling his own good horse beneath -him once again induced Nga-Hepé to quicken the trot -to a gallop. He did not turn back to prolong the -discussion, but only waved his arm in reply.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Edwin thought to increase the distance between -them by running off in the opposite direction.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no," said Mr. Hirpington; "just stand still by -me. If he saw you begin to run, he would be after -you in a minute. If the ape and the tiger lie -dormant in some of us, the wild animal is rampant in -him. Face him to the last."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Edwin looked up with admiring gratitude at the -friend who had so skilfully delivered him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They watched the vanishing figure as Edwin had -watched him on the day of his first acquaintance with -the Maori warrior.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He will never give back my Beauty," he sighed, -as horse and rider were lost to view in the darkling -bush.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your horse may prove your ransom," said -Mr. Hirpington, as they retraced their steps. He knew -that the boy's life was no longer safe within the reach -of the angry savage. What was he to do? Send him -off to a friend at a distance until the affair had blown -over? Yes; row him down the river and put him on -board one of the Union steamers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He began to question Edwin. "Had they any other -friends in New Zealand?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"None," answered the boy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"More's the pity," said Mr. Hirpington; "for it -will not do for you and your father to remain alone -with Hal on that hill any longer. We must separate -you from the rabbiters, for the gang will be sure to -draw together soon. It is nearly a week since the -eruption. I hope and trust some of my men may -get my message, and come to us before Nga-Hepé -returns."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If any of the surveying party are about still, they -would help us," said Edwin. "Mr. Ottley told me -how to signal to them, and they answered at once. -They said we were to signal again if we wanted them. -The captain of the coaster is with them. He would -be sure to come."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Hirpington knew nothing about the captain, -but he assented. "Signal by all means. If we have -Englishmen enough about us, we shall carry this -through. We must get your father home. One or -two men will soon mend the roof. I'll spare you -Dunter; he would keep a sharp look-out. As the -relief-parties disperse, we shall see who comes our -way. Chance may favour us."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then the two started again for the ford, leaving -pussy once more in possession of the valley farm. -Mr. Hirpington was struck when he saw the difference -a single day's hard work had effected.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I want to be by your side, Dunter, putting my -own shoulder to the wheel, and we should soon fetch -the mistress home. But we are in for an awful deal -of trouble with these poor Lees, and we can't fail -them. Somehow they do not square it with their -Maori neighbours," he sighed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not quite up to managing 'em yet, I guess," -replied Dunter, as he showed his master a kitchen -clear of mud, although a stranger still to the -scrubbing-brush. A few loose boards were laid down as -pathways to the bedroom doors, which all stood wide, -letting in the clear river breeze from the windows -beyond. Dunter was washing his hands to have a -spell at the bedmaking, as he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We are all relegated to the cellar," sighed his -master, "and we cannot stay to enjoy even that. We -shall have a row with Nga-Hepé's people if we are -not on the alert. I want to get this young Lee out -of their way. Where will he be safest for to-night?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Here with me, abed and asleep," answered the -man unhesitatingly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Hirpington glanced into the range of bedrooms, -still left as at the moment when their occupants rushed -out in the first alarm. "That will do," he assented. -"Trust a boy to go to sleep. He will tumble in just -as the beds are. Anything for his supper?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Plenty, but it is all poisoned with the horrid -sulphurous stench. Something out of the tins is best," -groaned Dunter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Give him one or two to open for himself, and shut -him in. Drive that meal-barrel against the door, and -don't you let him out till I come back," was -Mr. Hirpington's parting charge, as he pushed off in his -boat for the lake, to light the beacon-fires on the -hills around it, to summon the help he so much needed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Edwin, who had been hunting up the kaka, was -disappointed to find himself left behind.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All the better for you," retorted Dunter. "Take -the bird in with you, and get a sound sleep, now you -have the chance."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, you are good!" exclaimed Edwin, when he -saw a jug of river-water, a tin of sardines, and -another of brawn, backed by a hunch of mouldy bread, -provided for his supper.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The door was shut, and he lay down without a -suspicion of the kindly-meant imprisonment on which -he was entering. Both men were sure he would never -have consented to it had he known of their intentions -beforehand. They did not want to make the boy too -much afraid of his dusky neighbours; "for he has got -to live in the midst of them," they said. "He will -let them alone after this," thought Dunter. "He has -had his scare for the present; let him sleep and -forget it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The deep and regular breathing of a sleeper soon -told Dunter his wish was realized.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was a weary vigil for Mr. Hirpington. He kept -his watch-fire blazing from dusk till dawn.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was a wakeful, anxious night for Hal and -Mr. Lee, who saw the beacon-lights afar, and wondered -more and more over the unlooked-for sight.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is some one signalling for help," groaned -Mr. Lee, feeling most painfully his inability to give it. -It might be Edwin, it might be some stranger. He -wanted his companion to leave him and go to see. -But the old man only shook his head, and muttered, -"There is no go left in me, I'm so nearly done."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Hirpington had given up hope. He had coiled -himself in his blanket, laid his head on the hard -ground, and yielded to the overwhelming desire for -sleep.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The returning party of surveyors, who started on -their march with the first peep of the dawn, caught -the red glow through the misty gray. They turned -their steps aside, and found, as they supposed, a sleeping -traveller. It was the only face they had seen on the -hills which was not haggard and pale. In the eyes -of those toilworn men, fresh from the perils of the -rescue, it seemed scarcely possible that any one there -could look so ruddy and well unless he had been -selfishly shirking his duty to his neighbour, and the -greeting they gave him was biting with its caustic.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There is no help for me out of such a set of churls," -thought Mr. Hirpington bitterly, as he tried to tell his -story, without making much impression, until he -mentioned the name of Edwin Lee, and then they -turned again to listen, for the captain was amongst -them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But as for this stranger, had he not food and -friends of his own? what did he want of them? they -asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Help for a neighbour who has saved more -lives than can be counted, and is now lying on the -hills with a broken leg; help to convey him to his -home," Mr. Hirpington returned, with increasing -warmth, as he showed them there was but one way -of doing that. They must carry the poor fellow -through the bush on a stretcher. "When did -colonists turn their back on a chum in distress?" he -asked reproachfully.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Shut up," said the captain, "and show us where -he lies."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They would have set to work on the broken boughs -and twisted them into a stretcher; but there was -nothing small enough for the purpose left above -ground. They must turn the tent into a palanquin -once again, and manage as Hal had done before them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>One and all agreed if the Maoris had been using -threatening language to the suffering man's boy, they -could not go their ways and leave him behind in the -Maoris' country. "No, no," was passed from lip to -lip, and they took their way to the hill.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Hirpington was himself again, and his geniality -soon melted the frost amongst his new friends.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So you have carried him blankets and food?" they -said; and the heartiness of the "yes" with which he -responded made them think a little better of him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The steep was climbed. Mr. Lee heard the steady -tramp approaching, and waked up Hal.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Humph!" remarked the foremost man, as he -caught sight of Hal. "I thought you said you brought -them food."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Are you sure you did not eat it all by the way?" -asked another of Mr. Hirpington.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Look at that poor scarecrow!" cried a third, as -they scaled the hill and drew together as if loath to -enter the gloom of the shadow flung by those tremendous -trees. They gazed upwards at the giant branches, -and closed ranks. More than one hand was pointing -to the whitened skeleton.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you see that?" and a general movement showed -the inclination to draw back, one man slowly edging -his way behind another. It left the captain in the -forefront. Mr. Lee lifted a feeble hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, it is all right; there he is!" exclaimed the -man of the sea, less easily daunted by the eerie -qualms which seemed to rob his comrades of their -manhood.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We've come to fetch you home, old boy," he added, -bending over Mr. Lee and asking for his sons. "Have -you not two?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I've a brace of them," said the injured man, -"Edwin, where is Edwin?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Edwin and Cuthbert," repeated the captain. "I -have something to tell you about them. They are -just two of the boldest and bravest little chaps I ever -met with. If my mates were here they would tell -you the same. But they have followed the fall of -mud, and gone across the hills by Taupo. I was too -footsore for the march, and so kept company with -these surveying fellows."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The said fellows had rallied, and were grouped -round Mr. Hirpington, who was pointing out the route -they must take to reach the valley farm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Two of the men started to carry their baggage to -Mr. Hirpington's boat, intending to row to the ford -and wait there for their companions. The canvas -was taken down from the trees. Mr. Lee was bound -to his board once more and laid within the ample folds, -and slid rather than carried gently down the steep -descent. The puzzle remained how one old man and -two boys ever got him to the top alive. The party -was large enough to divide and take turns at the -carrying, and the walk was long enough and slow -enough to give the captain plenty of opportunity to -learn from Mr. Hirpington all he wanted to know -about Mr. Lee and his boys. He gave him in return -a picture of the deserted coast. "Every man," he said, -"was off to the hills when my little craft went down -beneath the earthquake wave. It was these young -lads' forethought kept the beacon alight when the -night overran the day. They saw us battling with -the waves, and backed their cart into the sea to pick -us up. Mere boys, they had to tie themselves to the -cart, sir. Think of that."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Hirpington was thinking, and it made him -look very grave. What had he been doing in the -midst of the widespread calamity? Not once had -he asked himself poor Audrey's question, but he asked -it now as the captain went on: "A shipwrecked -sailor, begging his way to the nearest port, has not -much in his power to help another. But I will find -out a man who both can and will. I mean old Bowen. -He is one of our wealthiest sheep-owners, and he -stands indebted to these two lads on the same count -as I do, for his grandson was with me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"His run is miles away from here," said -Mr. Hirpington. "You cannot walk so far. Look out -for some of Feltham's shepherds riding home; they -would give you a lift behind them."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The party halted at the ford, where Mr. Hirpington -found several of his own roadmen waiting for him. -Nga-Hepé had faithfully delivered his message.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah!" said Mr. Hirpington, "I knew he would, -and I am going to keep my part of the bargain too. -We are always friendly." He turned to Hal, and -explained how he had sent to his mates to meet him -at the ford. "Until they come," he added, "rest and -eat, and recover yourself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Since the arrival of the boat, Dunter had been -getting ready, for he foresaw an increasing demand for -breakfast, and his resources were very restricted. But -he got out the portable oven, lit his fires, not so much -in the yard, correctly speaking, as over it. -"Breakfasting the coach" had given every one at the ford -good practice in the art of providing. When the -walking-party arrived they found hot rolls and -steaming coffee awaiting them without stint. It brought -the sunshine into many a rugged face as they voted -him the best fellow in the world.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They circled round the fire to enjoy them. Nobody -went down into the house but Hal, who resigned the -care of Mr. Lee somewhat loathly. "I should have -liked to have seen you in your own house before we -parted," he muttered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no," said Mr. Lee; "you have done too much -already. You will never be the man again that you -have been, I fear."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The hearty hand-clasp, the look into each other's -faces, was not quickly forgotten by the bystanders.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The air was full of meetings and partings. -Mr. Hirpington was in the midst of his men. He was -bound by his post under government to make the -state of the roads his first care.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"When will the coach be able to run again?" was -the question they were all debating, as a government -inspector was on his way to report on the state of -the hills; for few as yet could understand the nature -of the unparalleled and unprecedented disaster which -had overwhelmed them.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="whero-to-the-rescue"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XVIII.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">WHERO TO THE RESCUE.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The busy sounds of trampling feet, the many -voices breaking the silence of the past days, -roused Edwin effectually, and then he discovered that -the door of the room in which he had slept resisted -his most strenuous efforts to open it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He called to Dunter to release him. No reply. -A louder shout, accompanied by a sturdy kick at the -immovable door, gave notice of his growing impatience. -The kaka, which had been watching his determined -efforts with exceeding interest, set up its cry of "Hoké, -hoké!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We are caged, my bird," said Edwin; "both of us -caged completely."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His eye wandered round in search of any outlet -in vain. All his experiences since the night of the -eruption had taught him to look to himself, and he -turned to the window. It was securely shuttered -and apparently barred.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How strange!" he thought, as a sudden shock of -earthquake made the iron walls around him rattle -and vibrate, as if they too were groaning in -sympathetic fear.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The kaka flew to him for protection, and strove to -hide its head. Another tremor all around sent it -cowering to the floor. Edwin stooped to pick it up, -and saw that the thin sheet of iron which formed the -partition between that room and the next had started -forward. He found the knife which Dunter had left -him, and widened the crack. He could slip his hand -through it now. The walls were already twisted -with the shocks they had sustained. He got hold of -the iron with both hands, and exerting all his strength -bent it up from the floor. His head went through. -Another vigorous tug, another inch was gained; his -shoulders followed, and he wriggled through at last -in first-rate worm fashion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is something to be thin," thought Edwin, as he -shook himself into order on the other side. He was -in another bedroom, exactly similar to the one he -had left. Both were designed for the reception of -"the coach;" but door and window were securely -fastened, as in the other room. The sounds which -had awakened him must have been the noise -accompanying some departure, for he thought he could -distinguish the splash of oars in the water, and words -of leave-taking. But the voices were strange voices, -which he had never heard before, and then all was -profoundly still.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It dawned on Edwin now that perhaps he had not -been shut in by accident, but that something had -occurred. He was getting very near the truth, for -he recalled Nga-Hepé's threats, and wondered whether -friend or foe had made him a prisoner.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Well, then, was it wise to keep making such a row -to get out? He began to see the matter in a different -light. He lay down on the bed in the second room, -determined to listen and watch; but in his worn-out -condition sleep overcame him a second time.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The kaka missed his society, and followed to perch -on his pillow. He was awakened at last by its -scream. The window was open, and the bird was -fluttering in and out in a playful endeavour to elude -a hand put through to catch it. Edwin was springing -upright, when his recent experiences reminded -him of the need of caution. But the movement -had been heard, and a voice, which he knew to be -Whero's, said softly, "Edwin, my brother, are you -awake?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Awake? yes! What on earth is the matter?" -retorted Edwin.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hush!" answered Whero, looking in and laying -a finger on his own lips. "Come close to the window."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Edwin obeyed as noiselessly as he could. Whero -held out his hand to help him on to the sill.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Escape," he whispered; "it is for your life."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His hands were as cold as ice, and his teeth were -set. Edwin hesitated; but the look on Whero's face -as he entreated him not to linger frightened him, -already wrought up to a most unnatural state of -suspicion by the tormenting feeling of being shut in -against his will.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Any way, he was not going to lose a chance of -getting out. It was too unbearable to be caged like -a bird. He took Whero's hand and scrambled up. -The Maori boy looked carefully around. All was -dark and still. Again he laid his finger on his lips.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Trust in me, my brother," he murmured, pointing -to his canoe, which was waiting in the shadow of the -rushes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where are we going?" asked Edwin under his breath.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To safety," answered Whero. "Wait until we -are out of hearing, and I will tell you all."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He grasped Edwin's hand, and led him down the -bank to the shingly bed of the river.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Stop a minute," interposed Edwin, not quite sure -that it was wise to trust himself altogether to the -guidance of the young Maori. "I wish I could catch -sight of Dunter. I want a word with him, and then -I'll go."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no!" reiterated Whero, dragging him on as -he whispered, "No one here knows your danger. It -is my father who is coming to take your life; but I -will save you. Come!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Edwin lay down in the bottom of the canoe as -Whero desired, and was quickly covered over with -rushes by the dusky hands of his youthful deliverer. -A low call brought the kaka to Whero's shoulder, and -keeping his canoe well in the shadows, he rowed -swiftly down stream.</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 75%" id="figure-60"> -<span id="another-flight"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="ANOTHER FLIGHT." src="images/img-272.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">ANOTHER FLIGHT.</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>The brilliant starshine enabled him to steer clear -of the floating dangers—the driftwood and the -stones—which impeded their course continually.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Are you hungry?" asked Whero, bending low to -his companion. But Edwin answered, "No."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then listen," continued the excited boy. "My -father has found this Lawford, the rabbiter you told -me about. He was with one of the biggest gangs of -pakehas, going back from the hills, every man with -his spade. Had my father raised his club, it would -have been quickly beaten out of his hand among so -many. He knew that, and the pakehas talked fair. -But this Lawford did not say as you say. He made -my father believe it was you who asked him to go -with you to the roadside, and dig between the white -pines, to find a bag you had dropped in the mud; -and so he dug down until you found it and took it -away. You then went alone to the ruins at the ford, -and he thinks you hid it in the hayloft. It was -before the fordmaster and his people had returned. -My father wanted these pakehas to come with him, -and take it from you; but they all declared that -was against the law of the pakehas. They would -go their ways and tell their chief, who would send -his soldiers for you. It was but a bag of talk. -My father has been watching round the ford, waiting -for them, yet they have not come."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But, Whero," interposed Edwin, "Nga-Hepé cannot -be sure that I was at the ford, for it was at the -valley farm that he met me and took the horse."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Does my father sleep on the track of an enemy?" -asked Whero. "Has he no one to help him? My -grandfather was following in the bush when he took -the horse from you. The one went after Lawford, -the other stayed to watch your steps. My -grandfather saw you enter the ford; he saw the master -leave it alone. A Maori eye has been upon the place -ever since. They know you have not come out of -the hole where you went in. Nothing has been done. -What were the fordmaster's promises? what were -Lawford's? A bag of talk. My father feels himself -the dupe of the pakeha. A geyser is boiling in his -veins. If you meet him you fall by his club. He -will wait until the day breaks; he will wait no longer. -At nightfall the old man, my grandfather, rowed back -to the little kainga our people have made on the -bank of the river."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A kainga?" interrupted Edwin, breathlessly. -"What is a kainga?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That is our name for a little village without a -wall," explained Whero, hurrying on. "He came. -He called the men together. They have gone up -with clubs and spears. They will come upon the -ford-house with the dawn, and force their way in to -find the bag. The master cannot resist so many. -O Edwin, my brother, I said I saved my kaka when -they would have killed it; shall I not save my friend? -I wanted to go with the men, that I might tell my -father again how you have stood by me. And should -I not stand by you? But my mother, Marileha, held -me back. My grandfather kept on saying, 'I knew -from the first it was the farmer's son who had robbed -you. Was it he who helped us out of the mud? I -saw him not. It was Ottley, the good coachman. -Have we not all eyes?' 'Go not with them,' said my -mother. 'What is talk? Your father will make you -the same answer. Do they know the young pakeha -as we do?' So I listened to my mother, and we -made our plan together. I knew our men could not -conceal themselves in the water; they must all be -hidden in the bush. I filled my canoe with rushes. -I rowed after them up the river, gliding along in the -shadows. I climbed up the bank, under the row of -little windows at the back of the ford-house, and -listened. I heard my kaka scream, and I guessed it -was with you. I was sure you would take care of -it. I could see the windows were all cracked and -broken with the earthquakes. The shocks come still -so often I knew I had only to wait, and when I felt -the ground tremble under my feet I smashed the -window. Nobody noticed the noise when everything -around us was rocking and shaking. You know the -rest. We have an hour before us yet. I am rowing -for the coast as hard as I can. Once on board a -steamer no Maori can touch you. I have plenty -of money to pay for our passage. My grandfather -came to see me when I was at school, and gave me a -lot to persuade me to stay. He was taking his money -to the Auckland bank, for fear another tana should -come. Then we can go and live among the pakehas."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But where shall we go?" asked Edwin, struck -with the ability with which Whero had laid his -plan, and the ease with which he was carrying it out. -"I only wish I could have spoken to Dunter or -Mr. Hirpington before we came away; for what will they -think of me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Think!" repeated Whero; "let them think. Could -I betray my father to them? Our hearts are true to -each other. We have given love for love. Would they -believe it? No. Would they have let you come away -with me, Nga-Hepé's son? No. One word, my brother, -and you would have been lost. A steamer will take -us to school. They told me at Tauranga there was a -school in every great town on the island, so it does not -matter where it lands us; the farther off the better."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marileha was watching for them on the bank. -Whero waved his arms in signal of success, and shot -swiftly past in the cold gray light of the coming day.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The eastern sky was streaked with red when the -first farm-house was sighted. Should they stop and -beg for bread? Whero was growing exhausted with -continued exertion. He lifted his paddle from the -water, and Edwin sat upright; then caution whispered -to them both, "Not yet! wait a little longer." So -they glided on beneath the very window of the room -where Mrs. Hirpington was sleeping. One half-hour -later she might have seen them pass.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The ever-broadening river was rolling now between -long wooded banks. Enormous willows dipped their -weeping boughs into the stream, and a bridge became -visible in the distance as the morning sun shone out. -The white walls of many a settler's home glistened -through the light gauzy haze which hung above the -frosted ground. Whero's aching arms had scarcely -another lift left in them, when they perceived a little -river-steamer with its line of coal-barges in tow.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Should they hail it and ask to be taken on board? -No; it was going the wrong way. But Edwin -ventured, now that the hills were growing shadowy in -the dim distance, to sit upright and take his turn with -the paddle, whilst Whero rested.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>How many miles had they come? how many -farther had they yet to go?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They watched the settlements on either side of the -river with hungry eyes, until they found themselves -near a range of farm-buildings which looked as if -they might belong to some well-to-do colonist, and -were in easy hail of the river-bank. They ran the -canoe aground, and walked up to the house to beg for -the bread so freely given to all comers through the -length and breadth of New Zealand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Invigorated by the hearty meal willingly bestowed -upon a Maori boy on his way to school, they returned -to the canoe; but the effort to reach the coast was -beyond their utmost endeavour. Edwin felt they -were now out of the reach of all pursuit, and might -safely go ashore and rest, for Whero was ready to fall -asleep in the canoe.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They were looking about for a landing-place, when, -to his utter amazement, Edwin heard Cuthbert shouting -to him from the deck of one of the little steamers -plying up and down the river.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"By all that is marvellous," exclaimed Edwin, "if -that isn't my old Cuth!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He turned to his companion, too far under the -influence of the dustman to quite understand what -was taking place around him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cuthbert's shout of "Stop, Edwin, stop!" was -repeated by a deep, manly voice. The motion of the -steamer ceased. Edwin brought the canoe alongside.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where are you bound for?" asked his old -acquaintance the captain of the coaster.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come on board," shouted Cuthbert.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The captain repeated his inquiry.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Whero opened his sleepy eyes, and answered, "Christchurch."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am a Christchurch boy," cried another voice -from the deck of the steamer. "But the Christchurch -schools are all closed for the winter holidays."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There were hurried questions exchanged between -the brothers after father and Effie. But the -answers were interrupted by the appearance of Mr. Bowen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Pay your rower," he shouted to Edwin, "and join -our party. I am taking your little brother and sister -home, for I am going to the hills to make inquiries -into the state of distress."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Before Edwin could reply, Whero, with a look at -the old identity as if he defied the whole world to -interfere with him, was whispering to Edwin,—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"These men are fooling us. They will not take us -to Christchurch. They are going the wrong way."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Edwin was as much alarmed as Whero at the -thought of going back; but he knew Mr. Bowen had -no authority to detain him against his will.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Our errand admits of no delay," he answered, as -he resigned the paddle to Whero.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The canoe shot forward.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good-bye! good-bye!" cried Edwin.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sailors and passengers were exclaiming at their -reckless speed, for Whero was rowing with all his -might. The number of the boats and barges increased -as they drew nearer the coast.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lie down again amongst the rushes," entreated -Whero, "or we may meet some other pakeha who -will know your English face."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Their voyage was almost at its end. They were -in sight of the goal.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Black, trailing lines of smoke, from the coasting-steamers -at the mouth of the river, flecked the clear -brilliancy of the azure sky.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Edwin was as much afraid as Whero of another -chance encounter. Audrey might turn up to stop him. -Some one might be sending her home by water, who -could say? Another of the shipwrecked sailors might -be watching for a coaster to take him on board. So -he lay down in the bottom of the canoe as if he were -asleep, and Whero pulled the rushes over him.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="met-at-last"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XIX.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">MET AT LAST.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The boys were recovering their equanimity, when -the stiff sea-breeze blowing in their faces -scattered the rushes and sent them sailing down the -stream.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Whero drew his canoe to the bank as they came to -a quiet nook where rushes were growing abundantly, -that he might gather more.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Whero was out of his latitude, in a </span><em class="italics">terra -incognita</em><span>, where he knew not how to supply the want of -a dinner. How could he stop to discover the haunts -of the wild ducks to look for their eggs? How could -he reach the cabbage in the top of those tall and -graceful ti trees, which shook their waving fronds in -the wintry breezes? Ah! if it had been summer, -even here he would not have longed in vain. His -bundle of rushes was under his arm, when he noticed -a hollow willow growing low to the river-side. A -swarm of bees in the recent summer had made it -their home, and their store of winter honeycomb had -filled the trunk. Swarms of bees gone wild had -become so frequent near the English settlements, wild -honey was often found in large quantities. But to -Whero it was a rare treat. He was far too hungry -to be able to pass it by. He scrambled up the bank, -and finding the bees were dead or torpid with the -cold, he began to break off great pieces of the comb, -and lay them on his rushes to carry away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As he was thus engaged a man came through the -clustering ti trees and asked him to give him a bit.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Whero was ready enough to share his spoils with -the stranger, for there was plenty. As he turned to -offer the piece he had just broken off, he saw he was -an ill-looking man, with his hat slouched over his -eyes, carrying a roll of pelts and a swag at the end -of a stick, which had evidently torn a hole through -the shoulder of the wretched old coat the man was -wearing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Much craft on the river here?" asked the man. -"Any barges passing that would take a fellow down -to the coast?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am a stranger here," answered Whero; "I do -not know." As he spoke, his quick eye detected the -stains of the hateful blue volcanic mud on the man's -dirty clothes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll be off," he thought. "Who are you? You -are from the hills, whoever you are."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He gave him another great piece of the honeycomb, -for fear he should follow him to ask for more.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That is so old," objected the man; "look how -dark it is. Give me a better bit."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But he took it notwithstanding, and tried to put it -in his ragged pocket. The holes were so large it fell -through.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There is plenty more in the tree," said Whero. -"Why do you not go and help yourself?" He took -up his rushes and walked quickly to the canoe.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Edwin was making a screen for his face with the -few remaining rushes. Whero saw that he was -looking eagerly through them, not at the honeycomb he -was bringing, but at the man on the bank.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you know him?" asked Whero.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, yes; it is Lawford," answered Edwin, under -his breath. "Look, he has got his rabbit-skins and -his swag. How careful he is over it! He has set his -foot on it whilst he gets the honey."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The canoe was completely hidden by the tall tufts -of bulrush growing between it and the willow, so they -could watch unseen. The man was enjoying the -honeycomb immensely. He was choosing out the best -pieces. Whero gave Edwin the kaka, lest it should -betray them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are sure it is Lawford?" asked Whero.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, quite," replied Edwin, beginning to eat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The best of the honeycomb was higher up in the -hollow trunk, where the rain could not wash out its -sweetness. As Lawford was stretching up his arm to -get at it, the sweet-brier, now so plentiful in New -Zealand, that was growing about its roots caught the -ragged old coat. They heard the rent; something fell -out of the pocket on the other side.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He picked it up hastily, shaking off the dirt into -which it had fallen. "It is my father's belt!" -exclaimed Edwin. Whero was over the side of the -canoe in a moment, and crawling through the bed of -rushes with the noiseless swiftness of a wild animal -watching its prey.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He saw Lawford unpack what New Zealanders call -a swag—that is, a piece of oil-cloth provided with -straps, which takes the place of knapsack or -portmanteau amongst travellers of Lawford's description. -If a man has not even got a swag, he is reckoned a -sundowner in colonial eyes. Swags are always to be -bought at the smallest stores. No difficulty about that. -As Whero drew nearer, he saw the swag was a new -one. Everything else about the man looked worn out.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lawford was unpacking it on the ground, throwing -suspicious glances over his shoulder as he did so; but -his recent companion seemed to have vanished. He -stood up and looked all round him, but there was no -one to be seen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He took out a small bundle packed up in flax-leaves, -which he began slowly to unwind.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Did not Whero know the bag which his own -mother had woven? Could anything produce those -tell-tale stains but the hateful mud from which it -had been dug up?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lawford wrapped the belt round the bag, and -bound the flax-leaves over both as before. When he -began to strap up the swag, Whero crept back to the -canoe. His eyes were ablaze with passion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Pull off your coat," he whispered, "and leave it -in the rushes. Take mine, or he will know you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Edwin eagerly complied.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sleep deep; lie on your face!" whispered Whero, -covering him over with the rushes he had brought. -Then, before Edwin had the least idea of what he -was purposing, Whero pushed out his canoe into the -middle of the river, and paddled quickly to a handy -landing-place a little farther on. He ran up the -bank shouting to Lawford, "If you want a boat to -go down river to meet a coaster, I'll row you in my -canoe. But you will have to pay me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You would not work without that if you are a -Maori, I know," retorted the other, taking out a -well-worn purse.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come along," shouted Whero; "that's a' right." The -unsuspecting Lawford took his seat in the canoe, -and gave Edwin an unwary kick.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who have you got here?" he asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A chum asleep," answered Whero, indifferently, as -he stroked his kaka.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Edwin was feeling anything but indifferent. He -knew not how to lie still. "If we are not dead -unlucky," he thought, "we shall get all back—Nga-Hépé's -bag, and father's belt too. We must mind we -do not betray ourselves. If we can manage to go on -board the same steamer, when we are right out to sea -I'll tell the captain all; and we will give Lawford in -charge as he lands." Such was Edwin's plan; but he -could not be sure that Whero's was the same. He -dare not exchange a look or sign; "for," he said to -himself, "if Lawford catches sight of me, it is all -over."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They passed another little steamer going up the -river, with its coal-barge in tow.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Edwin felt as if Audrey's sedate face would be -looking down upon him from its deck, but he was -wrong.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nothing is certain but the unforeseen," he sighed; -but he remembered his part, and the sigh became a -snore, which he carefully repeated at intervals, for -Lawford's benefit.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He little thought how soon his words would be -fulfilled. The steamer was some way ahead, and -Whero was making towards it steadily. The barge -behind them was lessening in the distance, when the -Maori boy fixed his fingers like a vice in the strap of -Lawford's swag, and upset his canoe.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Whero knew that Edwin could swim well, and -that Lawford was unused to the water. Whero had -detected that by the awkward way in which he -stepped into the canoe.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The two struggled in the water for the possession -of the swag. At last the man relinquished his hold, -and Whero swam to shore triumphantly, leaving him -to drown.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He shall not drown!" cried Edwin, hastening -towards him with vigorous strokes; but before he -could reach the spot, Lawford had sunk. Edwin -swam round and round, watching for him to rise.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was a moment of anguish so intense he thought -life, reason, all within him, would give way before -the dreadful question, "What have I been? An -accomplice in this man's death—all unknowing, -it is true; but that cannot save him. Oh! it does -matter," he groaned, "what kind of fellows a boy is -forced to take for his chums."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The drowning man rose to the surface. Edwin -grasped him by the coat. For a little while they -floated with the current, until Lawford's weight -began to drag Edwin down.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Better die with him than live to know I have -killed him," thought Edwin. One hurried upward -glance into the azure sky brought back the -remembrance of One who is ever present, ever near, and -strong to save us to the uttermost. This upheld him. -A tree came floating by; he caught at its branches. -Lawford had just sense enough to follow his example -and cling for dear life to the spreading arms.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A bargee, unloading his freight of coal upon the -bank, perceived their danger, and swam out with -a rope. He threw it to Lawford, but he missed it. -A second was flung from the barge, and the noose at -the end of it caught among the branches flapping up -and down in the water. Men's lives were at stake, -but as the value of the drift-wood would well repay -its capture, they hauled it in with the bold young -swimmer clinging to its boughs; for the first of the -watermen who came to their help had seized Lawford, -who relinquished his hold on the tree to snatch at -the rope he brought him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The two men swam to the barge. Edwin was -drawn in to shore. He scrambled up the bank and -looked around him for Lawford.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He saw the rabbiter half lying on the deck of the -barge, panting with rage and fear, and shouted to -him, "Safe! all safe!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Lawford answered with a bitter imprecation -on the son of the cannibal, who had purposely flung -him over, tossed him like a bone to the hungry sharks.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ask yourself why," retorted Edwin. "And what -might not I have done to you, if I had never heard -such words as, 'Neither do I condemn thee: go, and -sin no more'?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come," interposed the waterman to Lawford, -"shut up. Such language as this is wonderfully -unbecoming from the mouths of fellows scarce snatched -back from a watery grave, and we don't care to hear -it. Say what you will to the young 'un, he made -a bold fight with the tide to save you. Let him -alone."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where were you bound for?" said the bargee -aside to Edwin, as the boy poured out his gratitude -for their timely assistance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wanted to take a passage on board the steamer -for Christchurch, and a Maori boy was rowing me -down to meet it. This man was in the same canoe, -and had robbed the boy who was rowing us. In the -struggle between them the canoe was upset."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Go on with him, then," advised the bargee, "and -give him in charge when he lands."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," answered Edwin resolutely, "for the boy -recovered his own. But this man is a bad one, and I -would rather stay where I am than be in his company -another hour."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Run off, then," returned the bargee kindly; "run -until you are dry, and you will take no harm. As for -this fellow, we will ship him off to the South Island, -if that is where he wants to go."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Edwin wrung the bargee's horny hand, and followed -his counsel with all speed. Lawford's jeering laugh -was ringing in his ears.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He thinks I am running away from him; if he -fancies I am afraid, he makes a mistake, that is all," -reflected Edwin, racing onward.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But where was Whero? A run of half-a-mile -brought Edwin back to the river-brink again, but -nearer to the spot where the canoe was upset. Whero -had recovered it, and was looking about for his friend. -Edwin could see his tiny "dug-out" zigzagging round -the boulders, and still rushing seawards, as he paused -to reconnoitre a leafless bush on the water's edge, -which seemed to bear a fancied resemblance to the -figure of a crouching boy. Edwin pulled off his jacket -and waved it high in the air. He threw up his arms. -He shouted. He did everything he could think of to -attract Whero's attention. But his back was towards -him. All his signals seemed in vain, but not quite; -for the kaka was swinging high up among the -top-most branches of an enormous willow near the scene -of the upset. From such an elevation it espied Edwin, -and recognizing Whero's jacket, which he was waving -flag-like over his head, it swooped down upon him -with an angry scream, and seizing the jacket by the -sleeve, tugged at it with all its might. If Whero -could not distinguish the shout of his friend from the -rush of the water, the doleful "Hoké" of his bird could -not be mistaken, and Edwin soon saw him rowing -swiftly towards them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What for?" demanded Whero; "what for go -bother about a thief? What is he good for? Throw -him over, and have done with him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah!" retorted Edwin, "but we never should have -done with him. The life we had let him lose would -have lain like a terrible weight on us, growing heavier -and heavier as we too drew nearer to the grave. For -Christ himself refuses to lift the murderer's load. -But you do not know; you are not to blame, as I -should have been."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The overmastering feelings which prompted Edwin -to say this shot from his eyes and quivered in his -voice, and Whero, swayed by a force he could not -understand, reaching him only by words, yielded to -the influence of the light thus vibrating from soul to -soul.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," he said, reflectively, "there is something -greater than killing, and I want the greatest things."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="just-in-time"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XX.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">JUST IN TIME.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"What an ass Lawford must have been not to -put on father's belt! If he had, we could -not have got it away from him," said Edwin, as the -two seated themselves on the sunny bank and unpacked -the swag. Whero took out the precious bag, slung it -round his own neck, and concealed it under his shirt. -Edwin claimed his father's belt, and as he shook off -the mud and dirt which had accumulated upon it -during its sojourn in Lawford's pocket, he saw why -the man had been unable to wear it. In his haste to -get it off Mr. Lee whilst he lay unconscious, he had -not waited to unbuckle it, for fear Hal should see him. -He had taken out his pocket-knife and ripped it -open. This helped to get it into his possession, and -helped him to lose it too. The apparent gain was -nothing but the earnest-money of the self-sought -calamity which drove him a beggar from the -gangway of the San Francisco mail before many months -were over.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As the boys weighed the weight of coin in their -hands, they nodded significantly at each other. No -wonder it wore Lawford's old pockets into holes -before the end of his journey. Reluctant as he must -have been, he was forced to buy his swag at one or -other of the would-be townships, with their fine names, -which dot the lower reaches of the bush road. They -turned the poor unlucky bit of oil-cloth over and over -with contempt and loathing, and finally kicked it into -the river. Edwin folded his father's belt together, -and once more resuming his own jacket—to the great -satisfaction of the kaka—he changed the belt into a -breastplate, and buttoned his jacket tightly over it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To get back to the ford as quickly as they could -was now their chief desire. It was aggravating—it -was enough to make a fellow feel mad all over—to -think that Effie and Cuthbert and the Bowens had -passed them just that little bit too soon. Edwin grew -loud in his regrets. Audrey would have called it -crying over spilt milk. He could do nothing but -think of Audrey and her philosophical proverbs. To -practise the patience which was their outcome was -a little more difficult. To sit down where they were -and wait for the next steamer up stream to help them -on their way was tantalizing indeed, when nobody -could tell what might be taking place at the ford at -that very moment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But they had not long to wait, for the sight of a -Maori boy, a Hau-Hau from the King country, in the -heart of the hills, had a special attraction for every -New Zealander coming from the coast. All were -breathless for the particulars of the dire eruption, -which had overwhelmed their sunny vales, and -changed their glassy lakes to Stygian pools.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Not a sailor who could pull a rope, not a passenger -lounging on its tiny deck, would willingly forego the -chance of hearing something definite and detailed. -The steamer stopped, and the man at the wheel asked -eagerly for news, any more news from the doomed -hills, looming gaunt and gray in the dim distance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>No sooner did they touch the deck than the two -boys found themselves the centre of an earnest -questioning group, athirst for the latest intelligence. It -was a grave responsibility for both of them. They -chose to remain on deck, keeping as near to the -master of the vessel as they could without attracting -attention. For each one knew that he was carrying -his father's hoard, and their recent experiences made -them regard the rough appearance of most of the men -around them with mistrust.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was a secret belief with both the boys that they -were safer alone in their canoe; but Whero's strength -was expended. He leaned on Edwin's arm for -support, and was only restrained from falling into one -of his cat-like dozes by the fear that another thievish -hand might steal away his treasure while he slept. -They could not return as they came; rest and food -must be had.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A coil of rope provided the one, and the steward -promised the other. But before the boys were -permitted to taste the dinner so freely offered, Edwin had -to describe afresh the strange and startling phenomena -appearing on that night of terror, which rumour with -her double tongue could scarcely magnify. He -described them as only an eye-witness, with the horror -of the night still over him, could describe them; and -the men stood round him spell-bound. All the while -his words were painting the vivid scenes, his thoughts -were debating the very practical question, "Ought I, -or ought I not, to spend some of father's money, -now I have got it back, and buy more meat and flour -and cheese to carry home?" He thought of the -widespread dearth, and he knew that the little store -he had found unhurt at the valley farm might all be -gone on his return, and yet he was afraid to venture -with the wealth of gold he had about him into -doubtful places. No, he dare not risk it again. They -must trust for to-morrow's bread.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When they quitted the steamer the short wintry -day had long passed its noon, and the wind blew cold -around them as they returned to the open boat. -Edwin was rowing now; for when they drew nearer -to the hills, both he and Whero agreed that he must -lie down again beneath the rushes. The kaka had -hidden its head under its wing when the exchange was -made. The weary Maori boy could scarcely make his -way against roaring wind and rushing water. They -were long in getting as far as the ravine where the -tiny kainga nestled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Whero moored his canoe in a little cleft of the -rock, where it was concealed from view, and landed -alone. Edwin's heart beat fast when he heard light -steps advancing to the water's edge. His hand was -cold as the ice congealing on the duck-weed as a -dusky face peered round the ledge of rock and smiled. -It was Marileha.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good food make Ingarangi boy anew," she said, -putting into Edwin's hand a steaming kumara, or -purple-coloured Maori potato. Whilst he was eating -it Whero brought round a larger "dug-out," used now -by his father. It was piled with savoury-smelling -roasted pig, newly-baked cakes of dirty-looking Maori -wheat, with roasted wekas or wingless moor-hens -hanging in pairs across a stick. Like a wise woman, -Marileha had spent the day in providing the savoury -meat much loved by one she wanted to propitiate.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They have not yet come back," said Whero, -beckoning to Edwin to join him in the larger canoe, -where he could be more easily concealed beneath the -mats on which the provisions were laid.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We are going to take them their supper," added -Whero. "When the men are eating I can get my -father to hear me; then I put this bag in his hands -and tell him all. Then, and not till then, will it be -safe for you to be seen."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The Ingarangi boy lies safely here," whispered -Marileha, smiling, happy in her womanly device for -keeping the peace. "My skirt shall cover him. I -leave not the canoe. You, Whero, shall take from -my hand and carry to your father the supper we -bring to himself and his people."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Edwin guessed what Marileha's anticipation might -embrace when he found his pillow was a bundle of -carefully-prepared flax fibres, enveloping little bunches -of chips—the splints and bandages of the bush. -Edwin had a vision of broken heads and gaping -spear-thrusts, and a ride in an ambulance after the battle. -What had taken place that day?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the question was shortly answered. They -were not bound for the lake, or the ruins of the -Rota Pah, but the nearer wreck of the ford-house.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His visions grew in breadth and in detail; smoke -and fire were darkening their background when the -canoe stopped at the familiar boating-stairs. What -did he see? A party of dusky-browed and brawny-armed -fellows hard at work clearing away the last -remains of the overturned stables.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Hirpington, giving away pipes and tobacco with -a lavish hand, was walking in and out among them, -praising the thoroughness of their work, and -exhorting them to continue.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Pull them down," he was repeating. "We will -not leave so much as a stick or a stone standing. If -the bag is there we will have it. We must find it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The emphasis on the "will" and the "must" called -forth the ever-ready smiles of the Maori race. Mother -and son were radiant.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With a basket of cakes in his hand and a joint of -roast-pig on a mat on his head, Whero marched up -the landing-stairs, and went in amongst his countrymen -as they threw down their tools and declared -their work was done.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was talking fast and furiously in his native -tongue, with many outbursts of laughter at the -expense of his auditors. But neither Edwin nor -Mr. Hirpington could understand what he was saying, -until he flung the bag at his father's feet with a shout -of derision—the fifth commandment being unknown -in Maori-land.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nga-Hepé took up the bag and changed it from -hand to hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Kakiki Mahane leaned forward and felt its -contents. "Stones and dirt," he remarked, choosing -English words to increase the impression.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sell it to me, then," put in Mr. Hirpington. -"What shall I give you for it? three good horses?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He held out his hand to receive the bag of many -adventures, and then the cunning old chief could be -the first to bid Nga-Hepé open it and see. But the -remembrance of the tana was too vivid in his -son-in-law's mind for him to wish to display his secreted -treasure before the greedy eyes of his tribe. He was -walking off to deposit it in Marileha's lap, when -Mr. Hirpington intercepted him, saying in a tone of firm -control and good-natured patience, in the happy -proportion which gave him his influence over his -unmanageable neighbours: "Come now, that is not fair. -Untie the bag, and let us see if it has come back to -you all right or not. You have pulled down my -stables to find it; who is to build them up again?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Give us four horses for the loss of time," said -one of the Maoris.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Agreed, if you will give me five for the mischief -you have done me," he answered readily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You can't get over him," said Nga-Hepé. "It is -of no use talking."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Kneeling down on the landing-stairs, he opened his -treasure on his wife's now greasy silk, displaying -sharks' teeth, gold, bank-notes, greenstone, kauri -gum—every precious thing of which New Zealand could -boast. They began to count after their native -manner.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Hirpington stepped aside to Kakiki. "You -took my advice and Ottley's: you carried your money -to the Auckland bank. Make Nga-Hepé do the same."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Before another moon is past I will," the old chief -answered, grasping the hand of his trusty counsellor, -who replied,—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It may not be lost and found a second time."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"True, it may not," said the old gray-beard, "if, as -he meant to do, he has killed the finder."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Hirpington started and turned pale.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He has not killed the finder," said Marileha, rising -with the dignity of a princess; and taking Edwin -by the hand, she led him up to Mr. Hirpington. The -"Thank God" which trembled on his lips was deep -as low. But aloud he shouted, "Dunter, Dunter! here -is your bird flown back to his cage. Chain him, -collar him, keep him this time, if you brick him in."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Dunter's hand was on the boy's shoulder in a -moment. Edwin held out his to Nga-Hepé, who -took the curling feathers from his own head-dress -to stick them in Edwin's hair. The boy was stroking -the kaka's crimson breast. He lifted up his face -and shot back the smile of triumph in Whero's eyes, -as Dunter hauled him away, exclaiming, "Now I've -got you, see if I don't keep you!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-valley-farm"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXI.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE VALLEY FARM.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Edwin laughed a merry laugh as Mr. Hirpington -and his man led him away between them. A -ladder had been found in the pulling down of the -stables. It greatly assisted the descent into the -"dungeonized" kitchen, as Edwin called it. But -within, everything was as dirty and comfortless as before.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They laugh who win," he whispered, undoing a -single button of his jacket, and displaying a corner of -the wash-leather belt. "Where is father?" he asked, -looking eagerly along the row of open doors, and -singling out his recent cage as the most comfortable -of the little dormitories. A glance told him it was -not without an inhabitant. But it was Hal's voice -which answered from the midst of the blankets, in -tones of intense self-congratulation, "I'm in bed, lad. -Think o' that. Really abed."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And mind you keep there," retorted Edwin, looking -back to Mr. Hirpington for a guiding word, as he -repeated impatiently, "Where's father? Has he seen -the captain?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Father," echoed Mr. Hirpington, "is safe, safe at -home; and we will follow him there as soon as I get -rid of these troublesome guests."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sit down, boy, if you do not mind the mud and -cold. Sit down and eat," said Dunter kindly. He -opened the kitchen cupboard, and pointed to some -biscuits and cheese which he had reserved for their -own supper. "It is all they have left us," he sighed. -"We have fed them a whole day just to keep the -Queen's peace. We thought they would eat us up -when they marched down on us, clamouring for you -and the bag you had stolen from Nga-Hepé and -hidden in our hayloft. But master is up to 'em. -'Well,' says he, 'if the bag has ever been in my -hay-loft, it is there still; and if it is there, we'll find it. -Pull the loft down. Clear out every stick and stone -that is left of my stables, an' welcome.' You see, it -must all be cleared down before we could begin to -build up again," added Dunter, confidentially.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It was a happy thought," said Mr. Hirpington, -rubbing his hands, "and it took. I ran myself to -set the example, and knocked over the shaky -door-post, and then the work of demolition went forward -with a will. Nothing like a good spell of hard work -to cool a man down. Of course they did not find -the bag. But Nga-Hepé's neighbours have found so -many old nails and hooks and hinges they have stuck -to their task; they are at it yet, but the dusk will -disperse them. Their excuse is gone. Still," he went -on, "'all is well that ends well.' You might have -found the place a smouldering ash-heap. We know -their Maori ways when they mean to dislodge an -English settler. They come as they came last night, -set fire to his house, pull up his fences, and plough -up his fields. The mud preserved me from anything -of that sort beginning unawares. Nothing would -burn. We have picked up more than one charred -stick, so they had a try at it; and as for the fences, -they are all buried. When the coast is clear you -and I must prepare for a starlight walk through the -bush to your father's farm."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Will they molest father?" asked Edwin anxiously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no," answered both in a breath. "Your -father's farm is on the other side of the river, not -on Hau-Hau ground. It belonged to another tribe, -the Arewas, who are 'friendless,' as we say. We told -you your father was safe if we could but get him -home. And so am I," continued Mr. Hirpington, "for -I can always manage my neighbours and appreciate -them too; for they are men at heart, and we like -each other. And there is a vein of honour in -Nga-Hepé and his son according to their light which you -may safely trust, yet they are not civilized Englishmen."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But Whero will be—" Edwin began; but his bright -anticipations for the future of his Maori friend were -cut short by a strange, unearthly sound—a wild, -monotonous chant which suddenly filled the air. As -the dusk fell around them, the Maoris still sitting -over Marileha'a supper had begun to sing to drive -away the fairies, which they imagine are in every -dancing leaf and twittering bird. Then, one by one, -the canoes which had brought them there began to -fill, and as the swarthy faces disappeared, silence and -loneliness crept over the dismantled ford.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nga-Hepé proved his friend's assertions true, for -Beauty was honourably returned. They found him -tied by the bridle to the only post on the premises -which had been left standing. Perhaps it had been -spared for the purpose. The gun was loaded, such -wraps as Dunter could get together were all put on, -and Edwin and Mr. Hirpington started. The first step -was not a pleasant one—a plunge into the icy river -and a scramble up the opposite bank, from which even -Beauty seemed to shrink. But the gallop over the -frosty ground which succeeded took off the comfortless -chill and dried their draggled coats. Mr. Hirpington -got down and walked by Beauty's head, as they felt -the gradual descent beginning, and heard the splash -of the rivulet against the stones, and saw the bright -lights from Edwin's home gleam through the evening -shadows. A scant half-hour that almost seemed a -year in its reluctance to slip away, a few more -paces, and Beauty drew up at the gateless enclosure. -A bar thrown across kept them outside. A gleeful -shout, a thunderous rain of blows upon the bar, and -the impatient stamping of Beauty's feet brought -Cuthbert and Arthur Bowen almost tumbling over -one another to receive them. The welcome sound of -the hammer, the stir and movement all about the -place, told Edwin that the good work of restoration -had already begun. The bar went down with a -thud. It was Cuthbert, in his over-joy at seeing his -brother, who had banged it to the ground. The noise -brought out the captain.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is a short journey to Christchurch," exclaimed -Cuthbert. "How many miles?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm in no mood for arithmetic," retorted Edwin, -bounding up the remnant of a path beside the -captain, with Cuthbert grasping him by the other hand. -Arthur Bowen took Beauty by the bridle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll see after him," said Mr. Hirpington.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But young Bowen responded gaily, "Think me too -fresh from Greek and Latin to supper a horse, do you? -I'll shoe him too if occasion requires it, like a -true-born New Zealander."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Brimful of self-help," retorted Mr. Hirpington; -"and, after all, it is the best help.— Well, well," he -added, as he paused in the doorway, "to take the -measure of our recuperative power would puzzle a -stranger. You beat me hollow."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had walked into the sometime workshop; but all -the debris of the recent carpentering had been pushed -aside and heaped into a distant corner, while an iron -chimney, with a wooden framework to support it, had -been erected in another.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In simply no time," as Mr. Hirpington declared -in his astonishment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To which the old identity, Mr. Bowen, retorted -from the other room, asking if two men with a hammer -to hand and a day before them were to be expected -to do nothing but look at each other.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Lee was reposing on a comfortable bed by the -blazing fire, with Effie standing beside him, holding -the tin mug from which he was taking an occasional -sip of tea; everything in the shape of earthenware -having gone to smash in the earthquake. The kitten -was purring on the corner of his pillow, stretching -out an affectionate paw towards his undefended eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am reaping the fruit of your good deeds," smiled -the sick man. "Is not this luxury?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With a leap and a bound Edwin was at the foot -of the bed, holding up the recovered belt before his -father's astonished eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Audrey peeped out from the door of the store-room. -With a piece of pumice-stone to serve her for a -scrubbing-brush, she was endeavouring to reduce its -shelves to cleanliness and order.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You here!" exclaimed Edwin, delighted to find -themselves all at home once more; "ready for the -four-handed reel which we will dance to-night if it -does not make father's head ache," he declared, -escaping from Effie's embracing arms to Audrey's probing -questions about that journey to Christchurch.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Since you must have dropped from the skies -yourself to have reached home at all, it need excite -no wonder," he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Me!" she replied demurely. "Why, I arrived at -my father's door, like a correct young lady, long -enough before any of you wanderers and vagabonds -thought of returning. Our good friend the oyster-captain, -as Cuth will call him, sent me a message by -one of Mr. Feltham's shepherds that my father wanted -me to nurse him, and I hastened to obey. Mrs. Feltham -lent me her own habit, and I rode home with -my groom, behind me, in grand style for an honest -charwoman just released from washing teacups and -beating eggs. My wages taken in kind loaded the -panniers of my steed, and I felt like a bee or an ant -returning to the hive with its store of honey."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That is my best medicine," murmured Mr. Lee, as -the merry laugh with which Audrey's words were -greeted rang through the house.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Lee was slowly counting his remaining coin. -He looked at Audrey. Without another word she -led her brothers away, Effie following as a matter of -course, and left him with his friend.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come and look round," whispered Audrey to Edwin.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And help," he answered. "It does not square with -my ideas to let strangers put a prop against the falling -roof and I stand idle."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Conceited boy!" cried Audrey, "to match your -skill against our oyster-captain's."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She ran lightly down the veranda steps and pointed -to the bluff sailor, hammering at a sheet of iron he had -brought from the ruins of the stable to patch the -tumble-down walls of the house.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With the rough-and-ready skill of a ship-carpenter -he had set himself to the task the moment he arrived.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no thanks, my boys," he said, as Edwin and -Cuthbert looked up at the strong framework of beam -and cross-bar which he had erected in so brief a space, -and burst into exclamations of wonder and delight.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It was the one thing we could not do; it was -beyond us all," added Edwin. "It is true, the poles -lay ready on the ground and the nails were rusting -on the workshop floor, but the skill that could splice -a beam or shore up a rafter was not ours. There -was nobody about us who could do it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I saw what was wanting when I helped to bring -your father home, and it set my compass, so I came -back to do it. A Jack-of-all-trades like me I knew -could make the old place ship-shape in a couple of -days, and when the old gentleman and his grandson -saw what I was after, their coats were off in a moment, -and they have worked beside me with a will all day," -replied the captain.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Finding Mr. Lee awake, Mr. Bowen had taken the -opportunity to join the quiet council over ways and -means which he was holding with his friend.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now just look on me as a neighbour, for what is -fifty miles in New Zealand? and remember I do not -want anybody to tell me this disaster leaves you both -in an awkward strait. If there is one thing we -have learned in our far-off corner in the Southern -Ocean, it is to practise our duty to our neighbour. -Dr. Hector bears me out in thinking that after such -an eruption as this there will probably be peace in -the hills again, perhaps for hundreds of years. No -one remembers such an outbreak of subterranean -force, no one ever heard of such an one before, and -all we can do is to help each other. If a loan will -be of use to you to tide over it, just tell me the figure, -and I'll write it down. No counting, Mr. Lee, if you -please; I tell you the debtor account is all on my side. -Those little lads—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The thud of the captain's hammer drowned his voice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The same feeling," he added, "which lends its -ring to that hammer points my pen, and you must -just remember, while you are lying here, how we all -envy you your quartette."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They could hear the merry laughter from the group -in the veranda, where Audrey was singing,—</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"What lads ere did our lads will do;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Were I a lad, I would follow him too."</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Effie gravely expostulated with her sister. "I -really do think, Audrey, we ought to say now what -our lads have done."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah! but I fear they have something more to do," -cried Edwin, suddenly catching his little sister round -the waist, not in play but in panic fear, as he heard -the trampling as of many horses crossing the bush. -He whirled her into the house and pushed Audrey -after her, as the captain ceased nailing to listen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Arthur Bowen was by Edwin's side as he spoke. -With one impulse the bar was lifted to its place, and -the trio retreated to the veranda. A long train of -pack-horses came winding down the valley.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Which was coming—friend or foe?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The boys stood very close to each other, ready to -bolt in-doors at a moment's warning. Edwin was at -once the bravest and the most apprehensive.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You had better go to father and leave us two to -watch," he said to his brother.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But old Cuth won't go," muttered the little fellow, -squaring his shoulders and planting his foot firmly on -the ground as he took his stand between them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Holloa! ho! oh!" shouted a cheery voice they all -knew well.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is Ottley! it is Ottley!" was echoed from side -to side.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Down went the bar once more. Out ran the trio, -leaping, jumping, chasing each other over the uneven -ground, strewed with the broken arms from the fallen -giants of the neighbouring forest. They raced each -other across the valley in the exuberance of their -boyish spirits, let loose by the momentary relief from -the pressure and the fetters which had been crushing -them to earth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Until the coach can run again," said Ottley, as -they came up to him laughing and panting, "I have -started a pack-horse team to carry up supplies. The -roadmen are rebuilding their huts, and as I came -along they warned me one and all to avoid the ford -to-night. They were anticipating a bit of warm work -up there with their Maori neighbours, and were -holding themselves ready to answer the fordmaster's -signal at any moment. They told me of a crossing -lower down the stream. The fords were sure to shift -their places after such a time as we have had. I -found myself so near the valley farm, I turned aside -to water my horses at the rivulet, and rest for the -night."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come along," cried Edwin; "father will be glad -to see you. But there has been no scrimmage at the -ford; trust Mr. Hirpington for that."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ottley paused to release his weary team, and let -them slake their thirst with the so-called water at -their feet, which really was not all sulphur and sludge.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am not sure," he said compassionately, as he -brought up the tired horses one after another, "that -the poor animals have not had a worse time of it than -we men; for their food and drink are gone, and it -grieved me to see them dying by the wayside as I -came."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The boys helped him to measure out the corn and -hobble them for the night in the shelter of the -valley.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then Ottley looked around to ascertain the state of -Mr. Lee's new fields. Three men were lingering by -the site of the charcoal fires.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There are the rabbiters," said Cuthbert, "just as -usual!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nonsense," returned his brother; "the gang is -dispersed."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, there they are," he persisted; and he was -right.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They marched on steadily, as if they were taking -their nightly round, but instead of the familiar traps, -each one carried a young pig in his arms.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Pig-driving, as Pat does it at Ballyshannon fair, -is a joke to pig-carrying when the pig is a wild one, -born and reared in the bush. On they came with -their living burdens, after a fashion which called forth -the loudest merriment on the part of the watchers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is Farmer Lee about again?" they asked, as they -came up with the pack-horse train.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ottley shook his head and pointed to the laughing -boys beside him, saying, "These are his sons."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No matter," they replied, with a dejected air. "We -cannot get our gang together. Hal is down, and -Lawford missing. We've been hunting a pig or two over -Feltham's run, and we've brought 'em up to Farmer -Lee. They are good 'uns, and they will make him -three fat hogs by-and-by, if he likes to keep 'em. -We have heard something of what that Lawford has -been after, and we are uncommon mad about it, for -fear the farmer should think we had any hand in it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He knows you had not," returned Edwin. "It -is all found out. But I do not think Lawford will -show his face here any more. I am sure my father -will be pleased with such a present, and thank you -all heartily." As he spoke he held out his hand, and -received a true old Yorkshire gripe.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There are three of us," he went on, glancing at -Arthur and Cuthbert; "but can we get such gifties -home?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And what will you do with them when they are -there?" asked Arthur; "unless, like Paddy, you house -them in the corner of the cabin."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ottley, always good at need, came to the help, and -proposed to lend his empty corn-bags for the transit.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Back they went in triumph, each with a sack on his -back and a struggling pig fighting his way out of it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The kicking and the squealing, the biting and the -squalling, the screams and the laughs, broke up the -conference within doors, and augmented the party at -the supper, which Audrey and Effie were preparing -from the contents of the panniers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The pack-horse train a realized fact!" exclaimed -Mr. Bowen.—"Come, Arthur; that means for us the -rest of our journey made easy. We must be ready -for a start at any hour."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If your time is to be my time," interposed Ottley, -who was entering at the moment, "we shall all wait -for the morning."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Wait for the morning," repeated the captain, as he -lit his pipe. "There is a bigger world of wisdom in -that bit of advice than you think for. It is what we -have all got to do at times, as we sailors soon find out."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A light tread beneath the window caught Edwin's -ear. Surely he knew that step. It was—it must be -Whero's.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was out on the veranda in a moment. There -was his Maori friend wandering round the house in -the brilliant starshine, stroking his kaka.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I cannot live upon my hill alone," said Whero. -"I have followed you, but I should cry hoké to you -in vain. I will take my bird and go back to -Tuaranga—it will be safe among my Maori school-fellows—until -hunger shall have passed away from the hills."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Edwin's arm went round him as he cried out gleefully, -"Ottley, Ottley, here are two more passengers -for the pack-horse train!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>THE END.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold medium">ENTIRELY NEW AND CHEAPER EDITION OF</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">R. M. Ballantyne's Books for Boys.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>The Coral Island. A Tale of the Pacific.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>The Young Fur-Traders; or, Snowflakes and Sunbeams from the Far -North.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>The World of Ice. Adventures in the Polar Regions.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>The Gorilla Hunters. A Tale of the Wilds of Africa.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>Martin Rattler. A Boy's Adventures in the Forests of Brazil.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>Ungava. A Tale of Esquimau Land.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>The Dog Crusoe and His Master. A Story of Adventure on the -Western Prairies.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>Hudson Bay; or, Everyday Life in the Wilds of North America, -during a Six Years' Residence in the Territories of the -Hon. Hudson Bay Company. With Memoir of the Author and Portrait. -Also Twenty-nine Illustrations drawn by BAYARD and other Artists, -from Sketches by the Author.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">The Boys' New Library.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>The British Legion. A Tale of the Carlist War. By HERBERT -HAYENS, author of "An Emperor's Doom," etc., etc. Crown 8vo. -With Six Illustrations by W. H. MARGETSON.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>The Island of Gold. A Sea Story. By GORDON STABLES, M.D., R.N., -author of "Every Inch a Sailor," "How Jack Mackenzie won his -Epaulettes," etc., etc. Crown 8vo. With Six Illustrations.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>How Jack Mackenzie Won His Epaulettes. By GORDON STABLES, -M.D., R.N., author of "As We Sweep through the Deep," etc. -With Six Illustrations by A. PEARCE. Crown 8vo, cloth extra.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>Boris the Bear-Hunter. A Story of Peter the Great and His Times. -By FRED. WHISHAW, author of "A Lost Army," etc. Illustrated -by W. S. STACEY. Crown 8vo, cloth extra.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>My Strange Rescue. AND OTHER STORIES OF SPORT AND ADVENTURE -IN CANADA. By J. MACDONALD OXLEY, author of "Up Among the -Ice-Floes," "Diamond Rock," etc. Crown 8vo, cloth extra.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>Pincherton Farm. By E. A. B. D., author of "Young Ishmael -Conway," etc. Crown 8vo, cloth extra.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>Up Among the Ice-Floes. By J. MACDONALD OXLEY, author of -"Diamond Rock," etc. With Illustrations. Crown 8vo, cloth extra.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>A Lost Army. By FRED. WHISHAW, author of "Boris the Bear -Hunter," "Out of Doors in Tsarland," etc. With Six Illustrations -by W. S. STACEY. Post 8vo, cloth extra.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>Baffling the Blockade. By J. MACDONALD OXLEY, author of "In -the Wilds of the West Coast," "Diamond Rock," "My Strange -Rescue," etc. Post 8vo, cloth extra.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>Chris Willoughby; or, Against the Current. By FLORENCE -E. BURCH, author of "Dick and Harry and Tom," etc. Post 8vo, -cloth extra.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>Diamond Rock; or, On the Right Track. By J. MACDONALD OXLEY, -author of "Up Among the Ice-Floes," etc. With Illustrations. -Post 8vo, cloth extra.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>Doing and Daring. A New Zealand Story. By ELEANOR STREDDER, -author of "Jack and his Ostrich," etc. With Illustrations. Post -8vo, cloth extra.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>Harold the Norseman. By FRED. WHISHAW, author of "A Lost -Army," "Boris the Bear-Hunter," etc. Post 8vo, cloth extra.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">Works of Travel and Research.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>Captain Cook's Voyages Round the World. With a Memoir by -M. B. SYNGE.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>Voyages and Travels of Captain Basil Hall. With Illustrations.</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><span>The Life and Voyages of Christopher Columbus. By WASHINGTON -IRVING. Author's Revised Edition. With Illustrations.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>Maury's Physical Geography of the Sea. With Charts, Diagrams, -and Illustrations.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>The Bible in Spain; or, The Journeys, Adventures, and Imprisonments -of an Englishman in an Attempt to Circulate the Scriptures in the -Peninsula. By GEORGE BORROW, author of "The Gipsies in Spain." -With Illustrations.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>Journal of a Voyage Round the World of H.M.S. "Beagle." -By CHARLES DARWIN, M.A., F.R.S. With Sixteen Full-page and -Six Double-page Illustrations.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>Kane's Arctic Explorations: The Second Grinnell Expedition in -Search of Sir John Franklin. With a Chart and numerous Illustrations.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>Wanderings in South America, etc. By CHARLES WATERTON, Esq. -With Sixteen Illustrations.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">Self-Effort Series.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>Architects of Fate; or, Steps to Success and Power. By ORISON -SWETT HARDEN, author of "Pushing to the Front; or, Success -under Difficulties." With Eight Illustrations. Crown 8vo.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>Men Who Win; or, Making Things Happen. By W. M. THAYER, -author of "From Log Cabin to White House," "Women Who -Win," etc. Crown 8vo, cloth extra.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>Women Who Win; or, Making Things Happen. By W. M. THAYER, -author of "From Log Cabin to White House," "Men Who Win," -etc. Crown 8vo, cloth extra.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>The Achievements of Youth. By the Rev. ROBERT STEEL, D.D., Ph.D., -author of "Lives Made Sublime," etc. Post 8vo, cloth extra.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>Doing Good; or, The Christian in Walks of Usefulness. Illustrated -by Examples. By the Rev. ROBERT STEEL, D.D., Ph.D. Post 8vo.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>Earnest Men: Their Life and Work. By the late Rev. W. K. TWEEDIE, -D.D. Crown 8vo.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>Famous Artists. Michael Angelo—Leonardo da -Vinci—Raphael—Titian—Murillo—Rubens—Rembrandt. -By SARAH K. BOLTON. Post 8vo, cloth extra.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>Heroes of the Desert. The Story of the Lives of Moffat and -Livingstone. By the Author of "Mary Powell." New and Enlarged -Edition, with numerous Illustrations and Two Portraits. Crown -8vo, cloth extra.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">Popular Works by E. Everett-Green.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold medium">HISTORICAL TALES.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>A Clerk of Oxford, and His Adventures in the Barons' War.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>The Young Pioneers; or, With -La Salle on the Mississippi.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>In Taunton Town. A Story of -the Rebellion of James, Duke -of Monmouth, in 1685.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>Shut In. A Tale of the Wonderful Siege of Antwerp in the -Year 1585.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>The Lost Treasure of Trevlyn. -A Story of the Days of the -Gunpowder Plot.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>In the Days of Chivalry. A Tale -of the Times of the Black Prince.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>Loyal Hearts and True. A -Story of the Days of "Good Queen Bess."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>The Church and the King. A -Tale of England in the Days of -Henry the Eighth.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>Tom Tufton's Travels.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>Dominique's Vengeance. A Story -of France and Florida.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>The Sign of the Red Cross. A -Tale of Old London.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>Maud Melville's Marriage. A -Tale of the Seventeenth Century.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>Evil May-Day. A Story of 1517.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>In the Wars of the Roses. A -Story for the Young.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>The Lord of Dynevor. A Tale of -the Times of Edward the First.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>The Secret Chamber at Chad. A Tale.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold medium">BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>"Sister." A Chronicle of Fair -Haven. With Eight Illustrations.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>Molly Melville. With Illustrations.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>Olive Roscoe; or, The New -Sister. With Eight Illustrations.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>The Heiress of Wylmington.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>Temple's Trial.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>Vera's Trust. A Tale.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>Winning the Victory; or, Di -Pennington's Reward. A Tale.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>For the Queen's Sake; or, The -Story of Little Sir Caspar.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>Squib and his Friends. A Story -for Children.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>Birdie's Resolve, and How It -Was Accomplished. A Story -for Children.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>Dulcie's Little Brother; or, -Doings at Little Monksholm.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>Dulcie and Tottie; or, The Story -of an Old-Fashioned Pair.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>Dulcie's Love Story.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>Fighting the Good Fight; or, -The Successful Influence of Well Doing.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>True to the Last; or, My Boyhood's Hero.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>Sir Aylmer's Heir. A Story for the Young.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">T. NELSON AND SONS, London, Edinburgh, and New York.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 6em"> -</div> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="backmatter"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst" id="pg-end-line"><span>*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK </span><span>DOING AND DARING</span><span> ***</span></p> -<div class="cleardoublepage"> -</div> -<div class="language-en level-2 pgfooter section" id="a-word-from-project-gutenberg" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> -<span id="pg-footer"></span><h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><span>A Word from Project Gutenberg</span></h2> -<p class="pfirst"><span>We will update this book if we find any errors.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This book can be found under: </span><a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/43620"><span>http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/43620</span></a></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one -owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and -you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set -forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to -copying and distributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works to -protect the Project Gutenberg™ concept and trademark. Project -Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you charge -for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you do not -charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the rules is -very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as -creation of derivative works, reports, performances and research. -They may be modified and printed and given away – you may do -practically </span><em class="italics">anything</em><span> with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is -subject to the trademark license, especially commercial -redistribution.</span></p> -<div class="level-3 section" id="the-full-project-gutenberg-license"> -<span id="project-gutenberg-license"></span><h3 class="level-3 pfirst section-title title"><span>The Full Project Gutenberg License</span></h3> -<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">Please read this before you distribute or use this work.</em></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To protect the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project -Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full -Project Gutenberg™ License available with this file or online at -</span><a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/license">http://www.gutenberg.org/license</a><span>.</span></p> -<div class="level-4 section" id="section-1-general-terms-of-use-redistributing-project-gutenberg-electronic-works"> -<h4 class="level-4 pfirst section-title title"><span>Section 1. General Terms of Use & Redistributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works</span></h4> -<p class="pfirst"><strong class="bold">1.A.</strong><span> By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg™ -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or -destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in your -possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a -Project Gutenberg™ electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by -the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person -or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><strong class="bold">1.B.</strong><span> “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg™ electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg™ electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement -and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg™ electronic -works. See paragraph 1.E below.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><strong class="bold">1.C.</strong><span> The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the -Foundation” or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection -of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works. Nearly all the individual -works in the collection are in the public domain in the United -States. If an individual work is in the public domain in the United -States and you are located in the United States, we do not claim a -right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, -displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as -all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope -that you will support the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting free -access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg™ works -in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the Project -Gutenberg™ name associated with the work. You can easily comply with -the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the same format -with its attached full Project Gutenberg™ License when you share it -without charge with others.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"></p> -<p class="pnext"><strong class="bold">1.D.</strong><span> The copyright laws of the place where you are located also -govern what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most -countries are in a constant state of change. If you are outside the -United States, check the laws of your country in addition to the terms -of this agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, -distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any -other Project Gutenberg™ work. The Foundation makes no -representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any -country outside the United States.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><strong class="bold">1.E.</strong><span> Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><strong class="bold">1.E.1.</strong><span> The following sentence, with active links to, or other -immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg™ License must appear -prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg™ work (any work -on which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the -phrase “Project Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, -performed, viewed, copied or distributed:</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at </span><a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org">http://www.gutenberg.org</a></p> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><strong class="bold">1.E.2.</strong><span> If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is -derived from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating -that it is posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work -can be copied and distributed to anyone in the United States without -paying any fees or charges. If you are redistributing or providing -access to a work with the phrase “Project Gutenberg” associated with -or appearing on the work, you must comply either with the requirements -of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of -the work and the Project Gutenberg™ trademark as set forth in -paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><strong class="bold">1.E.3.</strong><span> If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is -posted with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and -distribution must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and -any additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms -will be linked to the Project Gutenberg™ License for all works posted -with the permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of -this work.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><strong class="bold">1.E.4.</strong><span> Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project -Gutenberg™ License terms from this work, or any files containing a -part of this work or any other work associated with Project -Gutenberg™.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><strong class="bold">1.E.5.</strong><span> Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute -this electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg™ License.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><strong class="bold">1.E.6.</strong><span> You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including -any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access -to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg™ work in a format other -than “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official -version posted on the official Project Gutenberg™ web site -(</span><a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org">http://www.gutenberg.org</a><span>), you must, at no additional cost, fee or -expense to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a -means of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original -“Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other form. Any alternate format must include -the full Project Gutenberg™ License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><strong class="bold">1.E.7.</strong><span> Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg™ works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><strong class="bold">1.E.8.</strong><span> You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works provided -that</span></p> -<ul class="open"> -<li><p class="first pfirst"><span>You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from -the use of Project Gutenberg™ works calculated using the method you -already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed to -the owner of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark, but he has agreed to -donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid within 60 -days following each date on which you prepare (or are legally -required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty payments -should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in Section 4, -“Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation.”</span></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first pfirst"><span>You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies -you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he -does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg™ -License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all -copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue -all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg™ -works.</span></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first pfirst"><span>You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of -any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the -electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of -receipt of the work.</span></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first pfirst"><span>You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free -distribution of Project Gutenberg™ works.</span></p> -</li> -</ul> -<p class="pfirst"><strong class="bold">1.E.9.</strong><span> If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project -Gutenberg™ electronic work or group of works on different terms than -are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing -from both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and -Michael Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark. Contact -the Foundation as set forth in Section 3. below.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><strong class="bold">1.F.</strong></p> -<p class="pnext"><strong class="bold">1.F.1.</strong><span> Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend -considerable effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe -and proofread public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg™ -collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg™ electronic -works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain -“Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or -corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual -property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a -computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by -your equipment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><strong class="bold">1.F.2.</strong><span> LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES – Except for the -“Right of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the -Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the -Project Gutenberg™ trademark, and any other party distributing a -Project Gutenberg™ electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><strong class="bold">1.F.3.</strong><span> LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND – If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium -with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you -with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in -lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person -or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second -opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If -the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing -without further opportunities to fix the problem.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><strong class="bold">1.F.4.</strong><span> Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set -forth in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS,’ WITH -NO OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT -LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><strong class="bold">1.F.5.</strong><span> Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of -damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement -violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the -agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or -limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or -unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the -remaining provisions.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><strong class="bold">1.F.6.</strong><span> INDEMNITY – You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, -the trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in accordance -with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the -production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg™ -electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, -including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of -the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this -or any Project Gutenberg™ work, (b) alteration, modification, or -additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg™ work, and (c) any -Defect you cause.</span></p> -</div> -<div class="level-4 section" id="section-2-information-about-the-mission-of-project-gutenberg"> -<h4 class="level-4 pfirst section-title title"><span>Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg™</span></h4> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Project Gutenberg™ is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of -computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It -exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations -from people in all walks of life.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg™'s -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg™ collection will remain -freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg™ and future generations. To -learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and -how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 and the -Foundation web page at </span><a class="reference external" href="http://www.pglaf.org">http://www.pglaf.org</a><span> .</span></p> -</div> -<div class="level-4 section" id="section-3-information-about-the-project-gutenberg-literary-archive-foundation"> -<h4 class="level-4 pfirst section-title title"><span>Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation</span></h4> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at -</span><a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/pglaf">http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/pglaf</a><span> . Contributions to the -Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to -the full extent permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. -S. Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are -scattered throughout numerous locations. Its business office is -located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) -596-1887, email </span><a class="reference external" href="mailto:business@pglaf.org">business@pglaf.org</a><span>. Email contact links and up to date -contact information can be found at the Foundation's web site and -official page at </span><a class="reference external" href="http://www.pglaf.org">http://www.pglaf.org</a></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For additional contact information:</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Dr. Gregory B. Newby</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Chief Executive and Director</span></div> -<div class="line"><a class="reference external" href="mailto:gbnewby@pglaf.org">gbnewby@pglaf.org</a></div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -</div> -<div class="level-4 section" id="section-4-information-about-donations-to-the-project-gutenberg-literary-archive-foundation"> -<h4 class="level-4 pfirst section-title title"><span>Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation</span></h4> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Project Gutenberg™ depends upon and cannot survive without wide spread -public support and donations to carry out its mission of increasing -the number of public domain and licensed works that can be freely -distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest array of -equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations ($1 to -$5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt status -with the IRS.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND -DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular -state visit </span><a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate">http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate</a></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To -donate, please visit: </span><a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate">http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate</a></p> -</div> -<div class="level-4 section" id="section-5-general-information-about-project-gutenberg-electronic-works"> -<h4 class="level-4 pfirst section-title title"><span>Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg™ electronic works.</span></h4> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg™ -concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared -with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project -Gutenberg™ eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Project Gutenberg™ eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the -U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Each eBook is in a subdirectory of the same number as the eBook's -eBook number, often in several formats including plain vanilla ASCII, -compressed (zipped), HTML and others.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Corrected </span><em class="italics">editions</em><span> of our eBooks replace the old file and take over -the old filename and etext number. The replaced older file is -renamed. </span><em class="italics">Versions</em><span> based on separate sources are treated as new -eBooks receiving new filenames and etext numbers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search -facility:</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<p class="pfirst"><a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org">http://www.gutenberg.org</a></p> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg™, including -how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive -Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to subscribe -to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.</span></p> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</body> -</html> |