“His name does not matter,” answered the young stranger. “He supposes me to be his friend, and begged me to assist him, so that I do not wish further to betray him, but I could not allow you to suffer.”
“There may be some truth in what the young man says, and we should be unwise not to take his advice,” observed the doctor.
Valentine warmly thanked the stranger, who offered to lead them by a path he was acquainted with, which would enable them to escape the ambush and reach the river side with little loss of time. He accordingly led them back for some distance, and then striking off to the right over the hills, conducted them through another valley, which in time took them out on to the open plain.
“You are safe now,” he said. “Ride on as fast as you can, so that your enemy may not overtake you.”
“I should like to know who you are, that we may thank you properly for the benefit you have done us,” said Valentine, “and I am sure Ihaka’s daughter, on whose account Dr Fraser is going to our settlement, will desire to express her gratitude. She is sorely wounded, and I fear in much danger.”
“Wounded and in danger,” exclaimed the young stranger. “How has she received an injury?”
“She was basely shot at by a Maori,” answered Val.
“The chief told me that it was your sister who was ill, and that you having grossly insulted him, he was determined to revenge himself on you.” He stopped for a few moments as if for consideration. “I will accompany you,” he said. “If I go back I shall not be able to resist accusing him of his treachery, and bloodshed may be the consequence.”
“Come along then, my friend,” said the doctor, “you are fleet of foot, and will keep up with our horses.”
The stranger, a fine young man, one of the handsomest natives Valentine had as yet seen—his face being, moreover, undisfigured by tattoo marks,—on this ran forward, and showed by the pace he moved at, that he was not likely to detain them.