“It’s all very well, Mas’ Don,” he said, with his mouth full; “but if he comes and says ‘my pakeha’ to me, I shall throw something at him.”
“Oh, it’s all kindly meant, Jem.”
“Oh, is it? I don’t know so much about that. If it is, why don’t they give us back our clothes? Suppose any of our fellows was to see us like this?”
“I hope none of our fellows will see us, Jem.”
“Tomati Paroni! Tomati Paroni!” shouted several of the men in chorus.
“Hark at ’em!” cried Jem scornfully. “What does that mean?”
The explanation was given directly, for the tattooed Englishmen came running up to the whare.
“Boats coming from the ship to search for you,” he said quickly, and then turned to Ngati and spoke a few words with the result that the chief rushed at the escaped pair, and signed to them to rise.
“Yes,” said the Englishman, “you had better go with him and hide for a bit. We’ll let you know when they are gone.”
“Tell them to give us our clothes,” said Jem sourly.