“Afraid these would drug you so that I could steal the boat?”
“I didn’t know,” said Jem sulkily. “Wouldn’t be the first who has stolen a boat, I suppose.”
Don took some of the berries, and began to eat, and this emboldened Jem, who tasted one in a very suspicious and doubting way.
“Hullo!” he said, with his countenance brightening; “know what these here taste like, Mas’ Don?”
“Very mellow apple?”
“No; like the medlars that grew in my grandmother’s garden.”
“That’s right!” said the Englishman; and his New Zealand companion began to select the best and ripest of the fruit from the basket and handed them to Don, watching him eat with what was meant for a pleasant smile; but as his face resembled one that had been carved in a piece of mahogany, and afterwards ornamented with streaks and scrolls, the effect was more repellent than attractive.
“My pakeha,” said the great fellow with a childlike show of satisfaction; and he looked from one to the other and laughed.
“Here, he’s took to you regular, youngster; only look out, for he’ll want utu for it some time. Eh, Ngati? Utu?”
“Utu, utu” said the chief, smiling.