“But shall we come across any hot baths by-and-by?”
“Silence, Jem!”
“All right, Mas’ Don, you’re master, but this is—oh, bad eggs!”
Ngati held up his hand for silence, and then whispering the word “Moa” again, he imitated the movements of a gigantic bird, signing to them to do likewise.
Don obeyed, and in spite of the peril they were in, could hardly help laughing, especially when Jem kept up an incessant growling, like that of some angry animal.
Ngati was evidently satisfied, for he paused, and then pointing forward, strode slowly through the low bushes, with Don and Jem following and imitating his movements as nearly as they could.
As they walked on they could hear the murmur of voices, and this sound increased as Ngati went slowly forward, bearing off to the left.
It seemed to Don that they were going straight into danger, and his heart beat with excitement as the talking suddenly stopped, and there was a rustling sound, as if several men had sprung to their feet.
But Ngati did not swerve from his course, going slowly on, and raising the spear from time to time, while a low excited whispering went on.
“What will they do?” thought Don; “try to spear us, or surround and seize us?”