George, having breakfasted, felt much better, though still stiff and sore, and presently the unusual silence and absence of all signs of life struck him oddly, and he began to look about him.
'What can have become of all my rascals?' he wondered, and just then the silence was stirred by a long wailing cry, which rose and fell plaintively on the still air. 'A weka[[1]] calling to its mate,' thought George, as the melancholy note sounded again in the depths of the valley.
[[1]] Ocydromus australis, the wood-hen.
He began somewhat stiffly to descend the hill, when he was startled by a harsh, imperative whisper close beside him: 'Lie down, Hortoni! Quick, lie down!'
Then, as he stared this way and that, seeing no one, a lithe brown form rose from the other side of the rock beside which he stood, compelled him with heavy hand to the ground, and sank out of sight as swiftly and noiselessly as it had arisen.
And as George, obedient to the pressure upon his shoulder, crouched under the rock, a bullet flattened itself with sulky smack upon the face of the boulder behind him, while, even as it dropped to the ground, the crack of a rifle floated up from the valley.
CHAPTER IX
JUST IN TIME
'A clever marksman,' thought George, as he snuggled behind his rock. 'If I hadn't been pulled down, I should have handed in my parole for good and all.'
He drew a deep breath. He had courage enough to admit that he had been scared.