CHAPTER FORTY NINE.
UNWELCOME ACQUAINTANCES.
"We shall have to turn and fight, Mas' Don," whispered Jem, as they werelabouring through the bushes. "They're close on to us. Here, why don'tNgati stop?"
There was a faint grey light beginning to steal in among the ferns asthey struggled on, keeping up the imitation still, when a shout rosebehind, and the Maoris made a rush to overtake them. At that momentfrom a dark patch of the bush in front three shots were fired in rapidsuccession.
Don stopped short in the faint grey light, half stunned by the echoingreverberations of the reports which rolled away like thunder, whilethere was a rushing noise as of people forcing their way in rapid flightthrough the bush. But he hardly heeded this, his attention being takenup by the way in which Ngati dropped heavily to the ground, and justbehind him Jem fell as if struck by some large stone.
A terrible feeling of despair came over Don as, feeling himself betweentwo parties of enemies, he obeyed the natural instinct which promptedhim to concealment, and sank down among the ferns.
What should he do? Run for his life, or stay to help his woundedcompanions, and share their fate?
He stopped and listened to a peculiar sound which he knew was theforcing down of a wad in a gun-barrel. Then the strange hissing noisewas continued, and he could tell by the sounds that three guns werebeing loaded.
The natives, as far as he knew, had no guns, therefore these must be aparty of sailors sent to shoot them down; and in the horror of beingseen and made the mark for a bullet, Don was about to creep cautiouslyinto a denser part of the bush, when he stopped short, asking himselfwhether he was in a dream.
"All primed?" cried a hoarse voice, which made Don wonder whether he wasback in his uncle's yard at Bristol.
"Ay, ay."
"Come on, then. I know I brought one of 'em down. Sha'n't want no moremeat for a month."
"Say, mate, what are they?"
"I d'know. Noo Zealand turkeys, I s'pose."
"Who ever heard of turkey eight or nine foot high!" growled one of theapproaching party.
"Never mind who heard of 'em; we've seen 'em and shot 'em. Hallo!Where are they? Mine ought to be about here."
"More to the left, warn't it, mate?"
"Nay, it was just about here."
There was a loud rustling and heavy breathing as if men were searchinghere and there, and then some one spoke again--the man whose voice hadstartled Don.
"I say, lads, you saw me bring that big one down?"
"I saw you shoot at it, Mikey; but it don't seem as if you had broughtit down. They must ha' ducked their heads, and gone off under thebushes."
"But they was too big for that."
"Nay, not they. Looked big in the mist, same as things allus do in afog."
"I don't care; I see that great bird quite plain, and I'm sure I hithim, and he fell somewhere--hah!"
There was the sharp _click_, _click_ of a gun being cocked, and a voiceroared out,--
"Here, you, Mike Bannock, don't shoot me."
There was a loud rustling among the ferns, and then Jem shouted again.
"Mas' Don--Ngati! Why--hoi--oh! It's all right!"
The familiar voice--the name Mike Bannock, and Jem's cheery, boyishcall, made Don rise, wondering more than ever whether this was not adream.
The day was rapidly growing lighter, and after answering Jem's hail, Doncaught sight of him standing under a tree in company with three wild,gaunt-looking men.
"Mas' Don! Ahoy! Mas' Don!"
"I'm here, Jem, but mind the Maoris."
"I forgot them!" cried Jem. "Look out! There was a lot of savagesarter us."
The three men darted behind trees, and stood with their guns presentedin the direction of the supposed danger, Don and Jem also seeking coverand listening intently.
"Were you hit, Jem?"
"No, my lad; were you?"
"No. Where's Ngati?"
"I'm afraid he has got it, my lad. He went down like a stone."
"But Mike! How came he here?"
"I d'know, my lad. Hi! Stop! Don't shoot. Friends."
Ngati, who came stalking up through the bush, spear in hand, had anarrow escape, for two guns were presented at him, and but for theenergetic action of Don and Jem in striking them up, he must have beenhit.
"Oh, this is a friend, is it?" said Mike Bannock, as he gave a tug athis rough beard, and turned from one to the other. "Arn't come arterme, then?"
"No, not likely," said Jem. "Had enough of you at home."
"Don't you be sarcy," growled Mike Bannock; "and lookye here, thesegentlemen--friends of mine!"--he nodded sidewise at the twofierce-looking desperadoes at his side--"is very nice in their way, butthey won't stand no fooling. Lookye here. How was it you come?"
"In a ship of war," said Don.
"Ho! Then where's that ship o' war now?"
"I don't know."
"No lies now," said the fellow fiercely; "one o' these here gentlemenknocked a man on the head once for telling lies."
"Ah," growled one of the party, a short, evil-looking scoundrel, with ascar under his right eye.
"Hear that?" cried Mike Bannock. "Now, then, where's that there ship?"
"I tell you I don't know," said Don sharply.
"Whorrt!" shouted Mike, seizing Don by the throat; but the next moment asharp blow from a spear handle made him loosen his hold, and Ngati stoodbetween them, tall and threatening.
"Here, come on, mates, if you don't want to be took!" cried Mike, andhis two companions raised the rusty old muskets they bore.
"Put them down, will yer?" cried Jem. "Lookye here, Mike Bannock: Mas'Don told you he didn't know where the ship was, and he don't. We'veleft her."
"Ah!" growled Mike, looking at him suspiciously. "Now, look here: don'tyou try none of your games on me."
"Look here!" cried Jem fiercely; "if you give me any of your impudence,Mike Bannock, I'll kick you out of the yard."
"Haw-haw!" laughed Mike. "This here arn't Bristol, little Jemmy Wimble,and I'm a free gen'leman now."
"Yes, you look it," said Don, contemptuously. "You scoundrel! How didyou come here?"
"Don't call names, Mr Don Lavington, sir," whined the ruffian. "Howdid I come here? Why, me and these here friends o' mine are gentlemenon our travels. Arn't us, mates."
"Ay: gen'lemen on our travels," said the more evil-looking of the pair;"and look here, youngster, if you meets any one who asks after us, andwhether you've seen us, mind you arn't. Understand?"
Don looked at him contemptuously, and half turned away.
"Who was there after you?" said Mike Bannock, suspiciously.
"Some of a tribe of Maoris," replied Jem.
"No one else?"
"No."
"Ah, well, we arn't afeared of them." He patted the stock of his gunmeaningly. "Soon make a tribe of them run home to their mothers. Seethem big birds as we shot at? And I say, young Lavington, what have youbeen doing to your face? Smudging it to keep off the flies?"
Don coloured through the grey mud, and involuntarily clapped his hand tohis face, for he had forgotten the rough disguise.
"Never you mind about his face," said Jem grinning. "What birds?"
"Them great birds as we shot at," said Mike. "I brought one of 'emdown."
"You! You couldn't hit a haystack," said Jem. "You hit no bird."
"Ask my mates!" cried Mike eagerly. "Here you, Don Lavington, youusen't to believe me when I told you 'bout big wild beasts and furrinlands. We see three birds just here, fourteen foot high."
"You always were a liar, Mike," said Don contemptuously. "You did notsee any bird fourteen feet high, because there are no such things. Youdidn't see any birds at all."
"Well, of all--" began Mike, but he stopped short as he heard Don's nextwords,--
"Come, Jem! Come, Ngati! Let's get on."
He stepped forward, but after a quick exchange of glances with hiscompa
nions, Mike stood in his way.
"No you don't, young un; you stops along of us."
"What!" cried Don.
"We're three English gen'lemen travelling in a foreign country amongstrangers, and we've met you two. So we says, says we, folks here's abit too handy with their spears, so it's as well for Englishmen whenthey meet to keep together, and that's what we're going to do."
"Indeed, we are not!" cried Don. "You go your way, and we'll go ours."
"That's our way," said Mike quickly. "Eh, mates?"
"Ay. That's a true word."
"Then we'll go the way you came," cried Don.
"Nay, you don't; that's our way, too."
"The country's open, and we shall go which way we like," cried Don.
"Hear, hear, Mas' Don!" cried Jem.
"You hold your tongue, old barrel cooper!" cried Mike. "You're goingalong of us; that's what you're going to do."
"That we are not!" cried Don.
"Oh, yes, you are, so no nonsense. We've got powder and shot, andyou've only got spears, and one gun's equal to fifty spears."
"Look here, sir!" cried Don sternly, "I don't want any words with such aman as you. Show me the way you want to take, and we'll go another."
"This here's the way," said Mike menacingly. "This is the way we'regoing, and you've got to come with us."
"Jem; Ngati; come on," said Don.
"Oh, then you mean to fight, do you?" growled Mike. "Come on then,mates. I think we can give 'em a lesson there."
"Mas' Don," whispered Jem, "it's no good to fight again guns, and myshoulder's a reg'lar dummy. Let's give in civil, and go with them.We'll get away first chance, and it do make us six again' any savageswho may come."
"Savages!" said Don angrily; "why, where would you get such savages asthese? The Maoris are gentlemen compared to them."
"That's my 'pinion again, Mas' Don; but we'd better get on."
"But why do they want us with them?"
"Strikes me they're 'fraid we shall tell on them."
"Tell on them?"
"Yes; it's my belief as Master Mike's been transported, and that he'scontrived to get away with these two."
"And we are to stop with three such men as these?"
"Well, they arn't the sort of chaps I should choose, Mas' Don; but theysay they're gen'lemen, so we must make the best of it. All right, Mike,we're coming."
"That's your sort. Now, then, let's find my big bird, and then I'm withyou."
"Yah! There's no big bird," said Jem. "We was the birds, shamming soas to get away from the savages."
"Then you may think yourself precious lucky you weren't shot. Come on."
Mike led the way, and Don and his companions followed, the two roughfollowers of Mike Bannock coming behind with their guns cocked.
"Pleasant that, Mas' Don," said Jem. "Like being prisoners again. Butthey can't shoot."
"Why did you say that, Jem?" said Don anxiously.
"Because we're going to make a run for it before long, eh, my pakeha?"
"My pakeha," said Ngati, laying his hand on Don's shoulder, and hesmiled and looked relieved, for the proceedings during the lasthalf-hour had puzzled him.
Don took the great fellow's arm, feeling that in the Maori chief he hada true friend, and in this way they followed Mike Bannock round one ofthe shoulders of the mountain, towards where a jet of steam rose with ashrieking noise high up into the air.