While dinner was getting ready, Waihoura led Lucy along the bank of the stream to show her some more birds. They saw several, among them an elegant little fly-catcher, with a black and white plumage, and a delicate fan-tail, which flew rapidly about picking up sun-flies; this was the tirakana. And there was another pretty bird, the makomako, somewhat like a green linnet. Several were singing together, and their notes reminded Lucy of the soft tinkling of numerous little bells.
They had seen nothing of Harry and Tobias with the sheep since starting, and farmer Greening began to regret that he had not sent one of his elder sons to drive them.
“Never fear, father,” observed Mrs Greening, “our little Tobias has got a head on his shoulders, and so has Master Harry, and with ‘Rough’ to help them, they will get along well enough.”
Mrs Greening was right, and just as the horses were put too, “Rough’s” bark was heard through the woods. In a short time the van of the flock appeared, with a native, who walked first to show the way. Though “Rough” had never been out in the country before, he seemed to understand its character, and the necessity of compelling the sheep to follow the footsteps of the dark-skinned native before them.
“It’s capital fun,” cried Harry, as soon as he saw Lucy. “We have to keep our eyes about us though, when coming through the wood especially, but we have not let a single sheep stray away as yet.”
“Well, boys, our fire is still burning, and my missus has cooked food enough for you all,” said farmer Greening. “So you may just take your dinner, and come on after us as fast as you can.”
“We will not be long,” answered Harry. “Hope, mother, you have left some bones for ‘Rough’ though,” said Toby. “He deserves his dinner as much as any of us.”
“Here’s a mess I put by for him to give when we got to the end of our journey,” answered Mrs Greening, drawing out a pot which she had stowed away in the waggon. She called to “Rough,” who quickly gobbled it up. The waggon then moved on, while Harry and his companions sat round the fire to discuss their dinner. “Rough,” in the meantime, vigilantly keeping the sheep together.
The remainder of the journey was found more difficult than the first part had been. Sometimes they had to climb over steep ranges, when the natives assisted at the wheels, while Mrs Greening and Betsy pushed behind; then they had to descend on the other side, when a drag was put on, and the wheels held back. Several wide circuits had to be made to avoid hills on their way, and even when over level ground, the fern in many places was so very thick that it was rather hard work for the horses to drag the waggon through it.
“This is a rough country,” observed Mrs Greening, as she trudged on by her husband’s side. “I didn’t expect to see the like of it.”