“Why, Jem,” said Don laughing, “you wanted to bathe in the big copper.”
“How was I to know that this was a foreign out-door kitchen?” replied Jem laughing.
“And the water’s boiling hot,” added Don. “You can see it bubbling just at this end.”
“Think o’ that now!” said Jem. “I say, what a big fire there must be somewhere down b’low. Strikes me, Mas’ Don, that when I makes my fortun’ and buys an estate I sha’n’t settle here.”
“No, Jem. ‘There’s no place like home.’”
“Well, home’s where you settle, arn’t it? But this won’t do for me. It’s dangerous to be safe.”
Meanwhile, Ngati was listening intently, but, save the hissing of steam, the gurgling of boiling water, and the softened roar that seemed now distant, now close at hand, there was nothing to be heard, so he signed to them to sit down and rest.
He set the example, and Don followed, to lie upon his back, restfully gazing up at the blue sky above, when Jem, who had been more particular about the choice of a place, slowly sat down, remained stationary for a few moments, and then sprang up, uttering a cry of pain.
“Why, that stone’s red hot!” he cried.
This was not the truth, but it was quite hot enough to make it a painful seat, and he chose another.