“Look here!” shouted back Gordon; “I warn you all that the first man who comes a step farther may lose his life. Go on about your business before help comes and you are caught.”
“No help for a hundred miles, matey,” said the savage-looking convict; “so give in. We want all you’ve got there, and what’s more, we mean to have it. Will you surrender?”
For answer Gordon thrust out his gun-barrel, and the convicts drew back a few yards, and conversed together before disappearing with their savage followers into the bush.
“Have we scared them off?” said Gordon to one of the settlers, after ten minutes had passed without a sign.
“I don’t know,” said the other. “I can’t help thinking—”
“Look out, Mas’ Don!”
Bang! bang!
Two reports from muskets at the back of the house, where the attacking party had suddenly shown themselves, thinking it the weakest part; and after the two shots about a dozen Maoris dashed at the little window, and tried to get in, forcing their spears through to keep the defenders at a distance; and had not Ngati’s spear played its part, darting swiftly about like the sting of some monster, the lithe, active fellows would, soon have forced their way in.
Directly after, the fight began at the front, the firing growing hot, and not without effect, for one of the settlers went down with a musket bullet in his shoulder, and soon after Gordon stood back, holding his arm for Don to bind it up with a strip off a towel.
“Only a spear prick,” he said coolly, as he took aim with his gun directly after; and for about an hour the fight raged fiercely, with wounds given and taken, but no material advantage on either side.