There was silence for a moment, and then Colonel Haughton said: 'Before we say good-night I want to tell you two something. I have bought back Major Moore's old station, George, and the title-deeds are made out in the joint names of you and your friend Terence.'
'Father!' For a moment George could not say another word. Then he gripped a hand each of his father and his friend. 'You could not have pleased me better,' he cried. 'Thank you, dad, thank you. Partner, I congratulate you.'
'But what have I done to be treated like this?' objected Terence. 'George saves my life, and I am rewarded for it. That seems odd.'
'You returned the compliment to-day,' Colonel Haughton reminded him. 'Your father was my dear friend, Terence, as you know; and, indeed, I could give you other good reasons for my action. But why should I? The thing is done.'
'There, Terence, you must make the best of it,' said George, laughing. 'Unless, indeed, you don't feel inclined to chum with me any longer.'
Terence gave him an eloquent look and tried to thank Colonel Haughton. But he could only press the old man's hand, so George threw an arm round his shoulders and led him away.
Together they stretched themselves under a great tree, just as they had done on that other night when Terence had walked into the grip of the Hawk. The flames died down on the summit of the hill—the Pah of Death was no more. The blazing stars of the south looked down upon the battlefield, still strewn with relics of the fight. Here and there in the bivouac some wounded wretch stirred uneasily and groaned in his troubled slumber. But deep in the fern the friends slept the peaceful sleep of healthy, happy youth—youth which can forget past sorrow as easily as it dreams of coming joy; and between them lay what George had called 'God's Providence'—the greenstone mere of TUMATAUENGA.
THE END
PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN AT
THE PRESS OF THE PUBLISHERS.