"Stop a minute," interposed Edwin, not quite sure that it was wise to trust himself altogether to the guidance of the young Maori. "I wish I could catch sight of Dunter. I want a word with him, and then I'll go."
"No, no!" reiterated Whero, dragging him on as he whispered, "No one here knows your danger. It is my father who is coming to take your life; but I will save you. Come!"
Edwin lay down in the bottom of the canoe as Whero desired, and was quickly covered over with rushes by the dusky hands of his youthful deliverer. A low call brought the kaka to Whero's shoulder, and keeping his canoe well in the shadows, he rowed swiftly down stream.
ANOTHER FLIGHT.
The brilliant starshine enabled him to steer clear of the floating dangers—the driftwood and the stones—which impeded their course continually.
"Are you hungry?" asked Whero, bending low to his companion. But Edwin answered, "No."
"Then listen," continued the excited boy. "My father has found this Lawford, the rabbiter you told me about. He was with one of the biggest gangs of pakehas, going back from the hills, every man with his spade. Had my father raised his club, it would have been quickly beaten out of his hand among so many. He knew that, and the pakehas talked fair. But this Lawford did not say as you say. He made my father believe it was you who asked him to go with you to the roadside, and dig between the white pines, to find a bag you had dropped in the mud; and so he dug down until you found it and took it away. You then went alone to the ruins at the ford, and he thinks you hid it in the hayloft. It was before the fordmaster and his people had returned. My father wanted these pakehas to come with him, and take it from you; but they all declared that was against the law of the pakehas. They would go their ways and tell their chief, who would send his soldiers for you. It was but a bag of talk. My father has been watching round the ford, waiting for them, yet they have not come."
"But, Whero," interposed Edwin, "Nga-Hepé cannot be sure that I was at the ford, for it was at the valley farm that he met me and took the horse."
"Does my father sleep on the track of an enemy?" asked Whero. "Has he no one to help him? My grandfather was following in the bush when he took the horse from you. The one went after Lawford, the other stayed to watch your steps. My grandfather saw you enter the ford; he saw the master leave it alone. A Maori eye has been upon the place ever since. They know you have not come out of the hole where you went in. Nothing has been done. What were the fordmaster's promises? what were Lawford's? A bag of talk. My father feels himself the dupe of the pakeha. A geyser is boiling in his veins. If you meet him you fall by his club. He will wait until the day breaks; he will wait no longer. At nightfall the old man, my grandfather, rowed back to the little kainga our people have made on the bank of the river."