“About fifty miles. But I can’t take you to the field.”
“Why not? I shan’t steal anything.”
Scarlett could not forbear a smile. “I don’t mean that,” he said. “I was thinking what the fellows would say.”
Amiria’s merry laugh rang through the narrow valley. “Oh, you Pakeha people, how funny you are—always troubled by what others may think about you, always bothering about the day after to-morrow. Yet I think it’s all put on: you do just the same things as the Maori. I give it up. I can’t guess it. Come on; see if your horse can trot mine.”
She flicked her big bay that she was riding, and started off at a swinging pace. And so, Scarlett riding on the soft turf on one side of the road and Amiria on the other, they raced till they came to the next ford.
“I beat!” cried the Maori girl, her brown cheeks glowing with excitement.
The horses were given a mouthful of water, and then they splashed through the shallows; their iron shoes clanking on the boulders as dry land was reached.
“You are very rich, aren’t you?” Amiria asked, as they walked their horses side by side.
“What do you mean by rich?”
“Oh, you have lots of gold, money, everything you want.”