“Where shall we hide?” said Don eagerly.
“Oh, you leave it to Ngati; he’ll find you a place where you can lie snug.”
“Ngati,” said the owner of the name quickly, for he had been listening intently, and trying to grasp what was said. “Ngati! My pakeha.”
“Oh, I say: do leave off,” cried Jem testily. “Pakeha again. Say, Mas’ Don, him and I’s going to have a row before we’ve done.”
The chief said something quickly to the Englishman, who nodded and then turned to the fugitives.
“Ngati says he will take you where you can dry yourselves, and put on warm things.”
“He won’t be up to any games, will he?” said Jem.
“No, no; you may trust him. You can’t do better than go with him till the search is over.”
The Englishman turned to a tall young savage, and said some words to him, with the result that the young man placed himself behind Don, and began to carefully obliterate the footprints left by the fugitives upon the sand.
Don noticed this and wondered, for in the darkness the footprints were hardly perceptible; but he appreciated the act, though he felt no one but a native would distinguish between the footprints of the two people.