“If it had not been for you, oh! brave brothers, Dromoora and his tribe would have been swept away, I will give you all I have, anything you want, if you will give me the ‘stick’ and tell me its secret.”
When Dromoora had sent for the brothers, they had partly suspected that the conversation would take this turn, and had therefore agreed upon their answer.
So Mat replied,—
“You, oh, noble chief, and your brave tribe, have saved our lives from the beginning, ever since we landed on your coast. We were able to fight and kill in this battle because we knew things that the Tingura did not, and because we possessed the Teegoora ‘stick.’ We have also a favour to ask. You shall have a ‘thunder-stick,’ and be taught the secret; you shall have iron tomahawks, and many other beautiful things, if you will take us to where we can meet the white man.”
“That cannot be,” answered Dromoora, “the strange white men might kill me.”
“Then,” eagerly broke in Mat, “let your tribe keep me as prisoner, till you return safely—take only my brother with you.”
This idea seemed to strike the chief, and saying he would talk it over with the elders, the conversation terminated.
“That’s very pretty of you saying you’d stay while I went,” said Tim, as the brothers walked towards their hut, “but I don’t stir without you, not a step.”
After some farther discussing the pros and cons of the matter, our foresters received a summons to attend the elders.
They found the whole of their friends seated upon the ground, awaiting them.