Charlie, whose arm was not yet strong enough to use an oar in pulling, now came aft and steered, and Tom and Bill went to the oars. It was fortunately high water, and they were enabled to bring the boat not only into the mouth of the creek, but some fifty yards higher up, where she lay completely hidden from view under the thick and drooping foliage of the trees, and in pure fresh water.
Just as the boat was made fast rain began to fall heavily, and Tom and his friends found excellent shelter between the buttresses of an enormous fallen maso'i tree, where they ate their breakfast in comfort and watched the descending torrents with complacency.
Maori Bill, as he filled his pipe, seemed well pleased. The place to which he had brought them was well known to him, though many years had passed since he had last seen it. The island of Alofi, he told his companions, had but one small village of half a dozen houses, situated on the northern point, where there were extensive plantations of yams, taro, sugar-cane, and bananas owned by the people of Fotuna. The rest of the island, though of extraordinary fertility, was left to solitude, except when a party of young men would visit it on a pig-hunting or pigeon-snaring expedition.
'Then there's no fear of any natives being about now,' said Tom.
'No; but we must not make a fire. The smoke might be seen by some one. We can lie by here nice and comfortable all day, whether it rains or clears up,' answered the Maori.
As he spoke a grunt sounded near him, and in an instant he lay flat upon the leaves, motioning to Tom and Charlie to do likewise.
'It's a pig,' he whispered, taking his knife out of its sheath.
The grunt was followed by squeaks, and presently a sow, followed by a litter of seven pretty black and yellow striped piglets, came down the side of the leaf-strewn hill, tossing up the leaves with their little snouts in search of maso'i berries.
'Let 'em get between us and the boat,' said Bill to Tom. 'I'll tackle the old sow; perhaps you can knock over one or two of the young ones.'
Quite unsuspicious of danger, mother and children rooted their innocent way along till they were well between the water and the fallen tree. Then Bill leapt up and flung himself upon the sow, seized her by a hind leg, and thrice quickly drove his knife into her ribs; the progeny, with squeals of terror, scattered in all directions, some going up the hill-side and others taking to the water like otters. Tom managed to secure one, which promptly bit him savagely on the hand; and Maori Bill jumped into the creek, and caught another, as it was swimming across.