“I don’t believe it, Jem.”
“Well, you’ll see, Mas’ Don; so if they hang you, don’t you blame me.”
“Well, Mr Gordon, we must be off,” said the officer. “Thank you once more for all your hospitality.”
“God bless you, sir, and all your men, for saving our lives,” said the settler warmly; and there was a chorus of thanks from the other settlers and their wives.
“Nonsense, my dear sir; only our duty!” said the officer heartily. “And now about our prisoners. I don’t know what to do about the Maoris. I don’t want to shoot them, and I certainly don’t want to march them with us down to where the ship lies. What would you do, Mr Gordon?”
“I should give them a knife apiece, shake hands with them, and let them go.”
“What, to come back with the said knives, and kill you all when we’re gone!”
“They will not come back if you take away the scoundrels who led them on,” said Don sharply.
“How do you know?” said the officer good-humouredly.
“Because,” said Don, colouring, “I have been living a good deal with them, both with a friendly tribe and as a prisoner.”