“Well, of all the rum places, Mas’ Don!”
He said no more on the subject, for just then Ngati rose, and carefully drew the bag of eggs from the boiling pool.
“And I called him a pig!” said Jem, self-reproachfully.
“No: no pig,” said Ngati, who caught the word.
“Well, I didn’t say there was, obstinit,” said Jem. “Here, give us an egg. Fruit and young wood’s all werry well; but there’s no spoons and no salt!”
In spite of these drawbacks, and amid a series of remarks on the convenience of cooking cauldrons all over the place, Jem made a hearty meal of new laid eggs, which they had just finished when Ngati looked up and seized his spear.
“What’s the matter?” cried Don listening.
Ngati pointed, and bent down, holding his hand to his ear.
“I can hear nothing,” said Jem.
Ngati pointed down the ravine again, his keen sense having detected the sound of voices inaudible to his companions. Then carefully gathering up the egg shells, so as to leave no traces, he took the bag with the rest of the eggs, and led the way onward at a rapid rate.