"Awake? yes! What on earth is the matter?" retorted Edwin.
"Hush!" answered Whero, looking in and laying a finger on his own lips. "Come close to the window."
Edwin obeyed as noiselessly as he could. Whero held out his hand to help him on to the sill.
"Escape," he whispered; "it is for your life."
His hands were as cold as ice, and his teeth were set. Edwin hesitated; but the look on Whero's face as he entreated him not to linger frightened him, already wrought up to a most unnatural state of suspicion by the tormenting feeling of being shut in against his will.
Any way, he was not going to lose a chance of getting out. It was too unbearable to be caged like a bird. He took Whero's hand and scrambled up. The Maori boy looked carefully around. All was dark and still. Again he laid his finger on his lips.
"Trust in me, my brother," he murmured, pointing to his canoe, which was waiting in the shadow of the rushes.
"Where are we going?" asked Edwin under his breath.
"To safety," answered Whero. "Wait until we are out of hearing, and I will tell you all."
He grasped Edwin's hand, and led him down the bank to the shingly bed of the river.