*CHAPTER XVII.*
*EDWIN IN DANGER.*
When Mr. Hirpington came up he found his little English friend inearnest argument with the Maori warrior.
Nga-Hepe's looks were excited and wild. He was carrying the famousgreenstone club, which he brandished every now and then in the heat ofthe conversation.
"Come with me," he was saying peremptorily--"come with me and find theman."
"I cannot," answered Edwin, toughly. "I cannot leave my father. Takethe horse, if you will, and follow the tracks in the mud. I will showyou which is Lawford's footprint."
"Show me the man, and I will believe you," retorted Nga-Hepe, swinginghimself lightly upon Beauty's back as he spoke.
Edwin glanced round at Mr. Hirpington. It was a look which said, "Standby me." The appeal was mute, and he answered it neither by word norsign. Edwin thought despairingly he had not understood him, but a handwas laid on his shoulder. He almost fancied he was pushed aside, as Mr.Hirpington spoke to Nga-Hepe in his cheeriest tones:--
"Well met, old neighbour. Both of us above ground once again, thank Godin his mercy. As for me and mine, we were fairly buried alive, andshould have died under the mud but for this lad's father. We lefteverything and fled for our lives, and so it was with most of us. Butnow the danger is over, I have come back to look after my property, andfind a thief has been there before me. According to this boy's account,I am afraid the same fellow has walked off with something of yours. ButI have a plan to catch him, and you are the one to help me."
"A' right," answered the Maori. "You catch your man, I catch my boy.Man and boy go hand in hand."
"No," said Edwin stoutly; "I have nothing to do with Lawford."
Nga-Hepe raised his club. "You, who but you," he asked, "watched mywife dig hole? Who but you set foot on the spot? Who but you say, 'Mandig here'? I'll make you say a little more. Which had the bag?"
"I have never seen or touched the bag since I gave it back to your wifeMarileha on the night of the tana's visit," answered Edwin.
"A' right," repeated Nga-Hepe. "No, you are not a' right, or you wouldgo with me to find the man; for who but you knows who he is? If youwon't, you are a' wrong, and I have come here to kill you."
An exasperated savage on horseback, with a club in his hand, was no meanfoe. Edwin thought of old Hal's words. Was it a bad day's work whichrestored Nga-Hepe to life? But he answered himself still with anunwavering "No."
"You are returning me evil for good," said Edwin quietly. "Whero wouldnot have dared to follow the kaka over the mud if I had not gone withhim; but for me you would have been a dead man. Ask Whero--ask your ownson."
"I take no counsel with boys," answered the Maori loftily.
"Neither do I think overmuch of boys," interposed Mr. Hirpington; "butwe will keep young Lee with us, and all go together and find the man ifpossible. Yet with you on his back that horse will go like the wind.How are we to keep up with you?"
"You have ridden behind me before," said Nga-Hepe, turning to Edwin;"you can do it again."
"Only I won't," thought Edwin; but aloud he said, "So I could, but thenthere is Mr. Hirpington. What is he to do?"
"Ah!" put in the latter, taking out his pipe and lighting itdeliberately, "the question is not how we shall go, but which way. Therelief-parties are beginning to disperse. Now, Nga-Hepe, I am asearnestly desiring to help you as I am to defend myself. Only I seeplainly if we try to follow the fellow among these wild hills we shallmiss him. He belongs to a gang of rabbiters. I know their leader. Lethim call his chums together. I'll provide the lure--a reward and ajolly good dinner for every one of the poor fellows who came sogallantly to our help at the risk of their own lives. We must bear inmind that after Mr. Lee these rabbiters were the first in the field. Ifthere is a black sheep among them, we shall have him. But I must get myown men about me, and then we will confront him with Edwin Lee, in thepresence of them all."
"Your plan is good," answered the Maori. "Try it and I try mine; thenone or other of us will catch him."
"That will be me," remarked Mr. Hirpington, in a knock-down tone.
"Jump up!" cried Nga-Hepe, turning to Edwin.
"No, no," interposed Mr. Hirpington; "it is I who must have young Lee.I have left a watchman at the ford ready to pounce on the thief if heshould return there for his booty. I may want this boy any minute.Ride fast from camp to camp. Ask for any of my roadmen among them, andgive my message to them. Ask if there are any rabbiters, and give theother in Hal's name. I'll make it right with the old man. We shallthrow our net so wide this Lawford can't escape our meshes. He musthave got your bag about him, and the other money I suspect he has taken.We'll make him give it all up."
No one was noticing Edwin. He made a slight sound, which set Beauty offtrotting, as he knew it would.
The delight of feeling his own good horse beneath him once again inducedNga-Hepe to quicken the trot to a gallop. He did not turn back toprolong the discussion, but only waved his arm in reply.
Edwin thought to increase the distance between them by running off inthe opposite direction.
"No, no," said Mr. Hirpington; "just stand still by me. If he saw youbegin to run, he would be after you in a minute. If the ape and thetiger lie dormant in some of us, the wild animal is rampant in him.Face him to the last."
Edwin looked up with admiring gratitude at the friend who had soskilfully delivered him.
They watched the vanishing figure as Edwin had watched him on the day ofhis first acquaintance with the Maori warrior.
"He will never give back my Beauty," he sighed, as horse and rider werelost to view in the darkling bush.
"Your horse may prove your ransom," said Mr. Hirpington, as theyretraced their steps. He knew that the boy's life was no longer safewithin the reach of the angry savage. What was he to do? Send him offto a friend at a distance until the affair had blown over? Yes; row himdown the river and put him on board one of the Union steamers.
He began to question Edwin. "Had they any other friends in NewZealand?"
"None," answered the boy.
"More's the pity," said Mr. Hirpington; "for it will not do for you andyour father to remain alone with Hal on that hill any longer. We mustseparate you from the rabbiters, for the gang will be sure to drawtogether soon. It is nearly a week since the eruption. I hope andtrust some of my men may get my message, and come to us before Nga-Hepereturns."
"If any of the surveying party are about still, they would help us,"said Edwin. "Mr. Ottley told me how to signal to them, and theyanswered at once. They said we were to signal again if we wanted them.The captain of the coaster is with them. He would be sure to come."
Mr. Hirpington knew nothing about the captain, but he assented. "Signalby all means. If we have Englishmen enough about us, we shall carrythis through. We must get your father home. One or two men will soonmend the roof. I'll spare you Dunter; he would keep a sharp look-out.As the relief-parties disperse, we shall see who comes our way. Chancemay favour us."
Then the two started again for the ford, leaving pussy once more inpossession of the valley farm. Mr. Hirpington was struck when he saw thedifference a single day's hard work had effected.
"I want to be by your side, Dunter, putting my own shoulder to thewheel, and we should soon fetch the mistress home. But we are in for anawful deal of trouble with these poor Lees, and we can't fail them.Somehow they do not square it with their Maori neighbours," he sighed.
"Not quite up to managing 'em yet, I guess," replied Dunter, as heshowed his master a kitchen clear of mud, although a stranger still tothe scrubbing-brush. A few loose boards were laid down as pathways tothe bedroom doors, which all stood wide, letting in the clear riverbreeze from the windows beyond. Dunter was washing his hands to have aspell at the bedmaking, as he said.
"We are all relegated to the cellar," sighed his master, "and we cannotstay to enjoy even t
hat. We shall have a row with Nga-Hepe's people ifwe are not on the alert. I want to get this young Lee out of their way.Where will he be safest for to-night?"
"Here with me, abed and asleep," answered the man unhesitatingly.
Mr. Hirpington glanced into the range of bedrooms, still left as at themoment when their occupants rushed out in the first alarm. "That willdo," he assented. "Trust a boy to go to sleep. He will tumble in justas the beds are. Anything for his supper?"
"Plenty, but it is all poisoned with the horrid sulphurous stench.Something out of the tins is best," groaned Dunter.
"Give him one or two to open for himself, and shut him in. Drive thatmeal-barrel against the door, and don't you let him out till I comeback," was Mr. Hirpington's parting charge, as he pushed off in his boatfor the lake, to light the beacon-fires on the hills around it, tosummon the help he so much needed.
Edwin, who had been hunting up the kaka, was disappointed to findhimself left behind.
"All the better for you," retorted Dunter. "Take the bird in with you,and get a sound sleep, now you have the chance."
"Oh, you are good!" exclaimed Edwin, when he saw a jug of river-water, atin of sardines, and another of brawn, backed by a hunch of mouldybread, provided for his supper.
The door was shut, and he lay down without a suspicion of thekindly-meant imprisonment on which he was entering. Both men were surehe would never have consented to it had he known of their intentionsbeforehand. They did not want to make the boy too much afraid of hisdusky neighbours; "for he has got to live in the midst of them," theysaid. "He will let them alone after this," thought Dunter. "He has hadhis scare for the present; let him sleep and forget it."
The deep and regular breathing of a sleeper soon told Dunter his wishwas realized.
It was a weary vigil for Mr. Hirpington. He kept his watch-fire blazingfrom dusk till dawn.
It was a wakeful, anxious night for Hal and Mr. Lee, who saw thebeacon-lights afar, and wondered more and more over the unlooked-forsight.
"It is some one signalling for help," groaned Mr. Lee, feeling mostpainfully his inability to give it. It might be Edwin, it might be somestranger. He wanted his companion to leave him and go to see. But theold man only shook his head, and muttered, "There is no go left in me,I'm so nearly done."
Mr. Hirpington had given up hope. He had coiled himself in his blanket,laid his head on the hard ground, and yielded to the overwhelming desirefor sleep.
The returning party of surveyors, who started on their march with thefirst peep of the dawn, caught the red glow through the misty gray.They turned their steps aside, and found, as they supposed, a sleepingtraveller. It was the only face they had seen on the hills which wasnot haggard and pale. In the eyes of those toilworn men, fresh from theperils of the rescue, it seemed scarcely possible that any one therecould look so ruddy and well unless he had been selfishly shirking hisduty to his neighbour, and the greeting they gave him was biting withits caustic.
"There is no help for me out of such a set of churls," thought Mr.Hirpington bitterly, as he tried to tell his story, without making muchimpression, until he mentioned the name of Edwin Lee, and then theyturned again to listen, for the captain was amongst them.
But as for this stranger, had he not food and friends of his own? whatdid he want of them? they asked.
"Help for a neighbour who has saved more lives than can be counted, andis now lying on the hills with a broken leg; help to convey him to hishome," Mr. Hirpington returned, with increasing warmth, as he showedthem there was but one way of doing that. They must carry the poorfellow through the bush on a stretcher. "When did colonists turn theirback on a chum in distress?" he asked reproachfully.
"Shut up," said the captain, "and show us where he lies."
They would have set to work on the broken boughs and twisted them into astretcher; but there was nothing small enough for the purpose left aboveground. They must turn the tent into a palanquin once again, and manageas Hal had done before them.
One and all agreed if the Maoris had been using threatening language tothe suffering man's boy, they could not go their ways and leave himbehind in the Maoris' country. "No, no," was passed from lip to lip,and they took their way to the hill.
Mr. Hirpington was himself again, and his geniality soon melted thefrost amongst his new friends.
"So you have carried him blankets and food?" they said; and theheartiness of the "yes" with which he responded made them think a littlebetter of him.
The steep was climbed. Mr. Lee heard the steady tramp approaching, andwaked up Hal.
"Humph!" remarked the foremost man, as he caught sight of Hal. "Ithought you said you brought them food."
"Are you sure you did not eat it all by the way?" asked another of Mr.Hirpington.
"Look at that poor scarecrow!" cried a third, as they scaled the hilland drew together as if loath to enter the gloom of the shadow flung bythose tremendous trees. They gazed upwards at the giant branches, andclosed ranks. More than one hand was pointing to the whitened skeleton.
"Do you see that?" and a general movement showed the inclination to drawback, one man slowly edging his way behind another. It left the captainin the forefront. Mr. Lee lifted a feeble hand.
"Oh, it is all right; there he is!" exclaimed the man of the sea, lesseasily daunted by the eerie qualms which seemed to rob his comrades oftheir manhood.
"We've come to fetch you home, old boy," he added, bending over Mr. Leeand asking for his sons. "Have you not two?"
"Yes, I've a brace of them," said the injured man, "Edwin, where isEdwin?"
"Edwin and Cuthbert," repeated the captain. "I have something to tellyou about them. They are just two of the boldest and bravest littlechaps I ever met with. If my mates were here they would tell you thesame. But they have followed the fall of mud, and gone across the hillsby Taupo. I was too footsore for the march, and so kept company withthese surveying fellows."
The said fellows had rallied, and were grouped round Mr. Hirpington, whowas pointing out the route they must take to reach the valley farm.
Two of the men started to carry their baggage to Mr. Hirpington's boat,intending to row to the ford and wait there for their companions. Thecanvas was taken down from the trees. Mr. Lee was bound to his boardonce more and laid within the ample folds, and slid rather than carriedgently down the steep descent. The puzzle remained how one old man andtwo boys ever got him to the top alive. The party was large enough todivide and take turns at the carrying, and the walk was long enough andslow enough to give the captain plenty of opportunity to learn from Mr.Hirpington all he wanted to know about Mr. Lee and his boys. He gavehim in return a picture of the deserted coast. "Every man," he said,"was off to the hills when my little craft went down beneath theearthquake wave. It was these young lads' forethought kept the beaconalight when the night overran the day. They saw us battling with thewaves, and backed their cart into the sea to pick us up. Mere boys,they had to tie themselves to the cart, sir. Think of that."
Mr. Hirpington was thinking, and it made him look very grave. What hadhe been doing in the midst of the widespread calamity? Not once had heasked himself poor Audrey's question, but he asked it now as the captainwent on: "A shipwrecked sailor, begging his way to the nearest port, hasnot much in his power to help another. But I will find out a man whoboth can and will. I mean old Bowen. He is one of our wealthiestsheep-owners, and he stands indebted to these two lads on the same countas I do, for his grandson was with me."
"His run is miles away from here," said Mr. Hirpington. "You cannotwalk so far. Look out for some of Feltham's shepherds riding home; theywould give you a lift behind them."
The party halted at the ford, where Mr. Hirpington found several of hisown roadmen waiting for him. Nga-Hepe had faithfully delivered hismessage.
"Ah!" said Mr. Hirpington, "I knew he would, and I am going to keep mypart of the bargain too. We are always friendly." He turned to Hal, andexpla
ined how he had sent to his mates to meet him at the ford. "Untilthey come," he added, "rest and eat, and recover yourself."
Since the arrival of the boat, Dunter had been getting ready, for heforesaw an increasing demand for breakfast, and his resources were veryrestricted. But he got out the portable oven, lit his fires, not somuch in the yard, correctly speaking, as over it. "Breakfasting thecoach" had given every one at the ford good practice in the art ofproviding. When the walking-party arrived they found hot rolls andsteaming coffee awaiting them without stint. It brought the sunshineinto many a rugged face as they voted him the best fellow in the world.
They circled round the fire to enjoy them. Nobody went down into thehouse but Hal, who resigned the care of Mr. Lee somewhat loathly. "Ishould have liked to have seen you in your own house before we parted,"he muttered.
"No, no," said Mr. Lee; "you have done too much already. You will neverbe the man again that you have been, I fear."
The hearty hand-clasp, the look into each other's faces, was not quicklyforgotten by the bystanders.
The air was full of meetings and partings. Mr. Hirpington was in themidst of his men. He was bound by his post under government to make thestate of the roads his first care.
"When will the coach be able to run again?" was the question they wereall debating, as a government inspector was on his way to report on thestate of the hills; for few as yet could understand the nature of theunparalleled and unprecedented disaster which had overwhelmed them.
Doing and Daring: A New Zealand Story Page 17
