"Is there anything I can do for you, father?" he said.
Mr. Lee was feeling about in the blanket. "Where is my belt?" he asked.
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.
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.
No; he would only tell Ottley, and with this decision he too fell asleep.
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.
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.
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.
As they sat round the fire Hal took counsel with his mate, and talked over the difficulties of their position.
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.