“Didn’t sound like that to me,” returned Quintal; “more like Mainmast callin’ her husband to dinner.”
As he spoke, Tetaheite appeared at the edge of the garden with a musket in his hand, the other two natives remaining concealed in the bushes.
“Ho, Missr Mills,” he called out, in his broken English, “me have just shoot a large pig. Will you let Menalee help carry him home?”
“Yes;—you may go,” said Mills, turning to Menalee.
The Otaheitan threw down his tools, and joined his comrades in the bush, where he was at once told what had been done.
Menalee did not at first seem as much pleased as his comrades had expected, nevertheless, he agreed to go with them.
“How shall we kill Mills and McCoy?” asked Timoa, in a low whisper.
“Shoot them,” answered Menalee; “you have three muskets.”
“But they also have muskets,” objected Tetaheite, “and are good shots. If we miss them, some of us shall be dead men at once.”
“I’ll tell you what we’ll do,” said Nehow, who thereupon hastily detailed a plan, which they proceeded at once to carry out.