“I am ready to go again,” said Harry, “if James will stay in the camp.”
“No; Master Harry, its my turn to go if you will stop behind,” said James.
“If you wish it I’ll stay,” replied Harry. “One of us ought to remain, or strangers coming up to the camp might be troublesome, and I would not permit that.”
While James and Tobias set off with axes in their hands, and pieces of rope to bind their faggots, Harry got his gun, and began to march up and down on guard. He evidently considered himself like a sentinel in the presence of an enemy. Now he looked on one side of the hill, now on the other. No person could have entered the camp without receiving his challenge.
He had thus been passing up and down for some time, when he caught sight, in the distance, of some persons emerging from the forest.
“Here they come,” he shouted out, “Papa and Valentine, Mr Greening and Paul, and the two natives who went with them.” He was examining them with his spy-glass. “Yes, it’s them, and they will soon be here. Pray get supper ready, Mrs Greening; depend upon it they will be very hungry after their long march.”
Mrs Greening, aided by Betsy, at once got her pots and saucepans on the fire.
Harry, though feeling much inclined to run down and meet the party, restrained his eagerness. “A sentry must not quit his post,” he said to himself, “though no harm will happen, I’ll keep to mine on principle.”
In a short time Mr Pemberton, with his companions, appeared at the foot of the hill. Lucy ran down to meet them, eager to welcome her father, and to tell him about Waihoura.
“I am glad you can be of assistance to the young girl, and it is most desirable that we should be able to show our friendly disposition towards the natives,” he observed.