"Not quite. Well, you see, father, we have to do as we can," smiled Edwin, in reply.
"Certainly; but where on earth have we got to?" resumed the sick man, as he glanced upwards at the interlacing boughs.
"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.
"And the children?" asked Mr. Lee.
"Are all safe by the sea," was the quick reply.
Mr. Lee's ejaculations of thankfulness were an unspeakable comfort to Edwin.
"Did not I hear the splash of oars last night?" asked his father.
"You might when Whero came. He guided us here," said Edwin.
"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.
"With this leg," sighed Mr. Lee slowly and dreamily, "I—am—a—fixture."