“Uncle Josiah used to say that people soon got tired of having holidays.”
“Your Uncle Josiah soon got tired o’ giving holidays, Mas’ Don. I never, as you know, wanted many, but he always looked rat-traps at me if I asked for a day. Here you can have as many as you like.”
“Well, let’s take one to-day, Jem,” said Don. “Fill another basket with something to eat, take a couple of bags, and we’ll go right away into the forest, and bring back as much fruit as we can.”
“I’ll be all ready in no time,” said Jem, cheerily; and at the end of three minutes he was equipped, and they started off together, to find Ngati half lying on the sands in company with about a dozen more of his tribe, all of whom gave the pair a friendly smile and a wondering look at the trouble they seemed to take to obtain fruit, when some of the women or girls could have done the task just as well.
“They are about the idlest set of chaps I ever did see, Mas’ Don,” said Jem, as they trudged cautiously along through the ferny woodlands, where traces of volcanic action were wonderfully plentiful.
“But they work when there’s any need for it, I daresay,” said Don. “See how vigorously they can row, and how energetic they are when they go through the war-dance.”
“Oh! Any stoopid could jump about and make faces,” replied Jem. “I wonder whether they really could fight if there was a row?”
“They look as if they could, Jem.”
“Looks arn’t much good in fighting, Mas’ Don. Well, anyhow, they’re big and strong enough. Look! What a pity we haven’t got a gun. Might have shot a pig and had some pork.”
He pointed to about half-a-dozen good-sized pigs, which had scurried across the path they followed, and then disappeared among the ferns.