And, looking in the direction pointed out by the savage, he could see, far below them, the home of Martin Lee bathed in the peaceful moonlight, and with nothing to indicate impending danger.
“In time, so far,” exclaimed Bray; and, pointing to the long low buildings that glistened beneath them, the native nodded, and they began rapidly to descend.
What Bray wanted in agility, he tried to supply by daring, and he boldly followed his guide, now leaping, now swinging down by hanging rope-like creeper, and more than once falling heavily; but he was up and on again directly.
And there was need of haste; for slowly and cautiously a band of some thirty men were making their way up towards the peaceful home. Their progress was necessarily slow, from their ignorance of the locality; and they more than once lost ground by searching for a settlement up some pleasant-looking ravine, or it would have been impossible for the warning to have arrived in time to prevent a surprise.
The Moa’s Nest at last, though; and half-a-dozen fierce dogs ran out, raging round Anthony Bray, and hardly kept at bay by Wahika’s club; so that it needed no summons to rouse Martin Lee from his bed, and to bring him to the window.
“What!” he exclaimed, as Anthony Bray told his tale; “a piratical party hanging, burning? Nonsense, man; you have been dreaming!”
“As you will,” cried Bray fiercely; and, stepping back a few steps, he picked up a stone and flung it through Katie’s window.
“Here, Kate!—Miss Lee! wake up! Quick! there’s danger!” he exclaimed.
“He’s mad!” cried old Lee. “Here, stop him! What are you doing? But who’s that? Wahika?”
“Yes; Wahika,” answered the savage. “White men come ship—kill and burn. Open door—here directly!”