"Foolish boy," she said softly, "what pakeha had we to send? The bag is safe where we hid it; no one but you or I could find it."
"Then it is stolen," exclaimed Whero, "for the bag is gone."
They questioned him closely. How had he discovered that the bag was gone? As they walked away to find Nga-Hepé, the old patriarch laid his hand on his daughter's arm, remarking in a low aside. which was not intended for Whero's ear, as he did not wish to excite his indignation,—
"It is the farmer's son who has had it; no one else knew of it. Our own people cannot help in this matter; we must go to the pakeha chiefs."
In the meantime, whilst Whero was disclosing the loss of the buried treasure, Edwin was marching over the waste by Mr. Hirpington's side. The heavy load they had to carry when they left the boat made them very slow; but on they toiled to the foot of the hill, when Mr. Hirpington's ready "coo" brought Hal to their assistance.
He looked very white and trembling—a mere ghost of his former self. Mr. Hirpington could hardly recognize him. He was down in heart as well, for his pipe, his sole remaining solace, had burned out just half-an-hour before he heard the welcome "coo" at the foot of the hill.
For a moment the two men stood regarding each other as men regard the survivals of a dread catastrophe.
"Lord bless you, sir," said Hal. "I never thought to see you again, looking so hale and hearty."
"Don't talk about looks, Hal. Why, you are but a walking skeleton!" exclaimed Mr. Hirpington. "But cheer up," he added,—"the worst is over; we shall pull ourselves together now. Lend a hand with this basket up the steep."
The climb before them was something formidable to the genial speaker.