TOGETHER AGAIN
When the Maoris recovered from the shock of his rush, they faced
George as he stood covering his friend's body with his own. There
was no noise, no shouting; but the stern Roman faces looked very grim
and determined. Then Winata Pakaro with oily tongue began an
argument, in the midst of which was heard the click of the hammer of
a gun drawn back to full cock.
But while Winata's smooth periods flowed on, there was a sudden rush,
a scuffle, a shout of wrathful surprise, and there was George back
again under the tree with the rifle in his hand. He had wrested it
from the astonished warrior who had so stealthily--as he
imagined--made ready to use it.
In another moment Terence's wrists and ankles were free and the rifle
in his grasp, while George once more flourished his famous club,
rightly judging that its moral effect would be considerable, while as
to its physical possibilities there was no doubt whatever.
[Illustration: In another moment Terence's wrists were free, and the
rifle in his grasp (page 106).]
These things done in the space of a second or two, George began to
harangue the Maoris, but Winata Pakaro cut into his first words with:
'Stand aside, Hortoni! We wish not to injure you; but this man must
die.'
'Stand you back, O Winata Pakaro!' retorted George. 'This man is my
brother in all but blood, and I say that he shall not die.'
There was a roar of incredulous laughter at what the chiefs took to
be an expedient lie, and Winata muttered a hasty order over his
shoulder.
'Look out!' cried George, suspecting his design. 'Fire as he jumps.'
But a long whistle shrilled from Winata's lips, and he flung himself
flat on the ground as the Maoris made an ugly rush forward and
Terence's rifle spoke.
Fortunately for the friends, the bullet merely startled an elderly
chief into a most undignified caper as it hummed past his ear, and on
the instant Winata leaped from the ground and hurled himself at
Terence.
But the great fighter was handicapped by his fear of George, whose
own weapon came more than once so dangerously near his head that he
gave back in alarm; for there was no knowing when that magical piece
of greenstone would spring out of its master's hand and begin a
devil's dance upon its own account.
Still, it might have gone hardly with Terence, but that, as the
Maoris surged about him, a deep voice cried angrily: 'Is the word of
Te Karearea of no weight in this _hapu_? And you, Hortoni, why do
you break faith with me?'
Where the chief had sprung from George had no idea, but he was
uncommonly glad to see him, and, as the Maoris shrank back, he
briefly explained who Terence was and what had taken place.
Thereupon Te Karearea turned upon Winata Pakaro and rated him
viciously, demanding how he had dared to take so much upon himself.
To this verbal castigation Winata merely opposed a smile of cynical
amusement as he walked away.
Then Te Karearea faced George once more and said graciously, 'I give
you, O Hortoni, the life of the friend for whom you would have given
your own. To-morrow you shall tell me the story of your friendship.
But he must give up the rifle.'
At a nod from George, Terence surrendered the rifle, and Te Karearea
then extended his hand, as if expecting to receive the greenstone
club as well. But when this piece of impudent bluff--which was
extremely well acted--met with the reception it deserved, he grinned
good-humouredly and nodded to the pair to withdraw, which they did at
once.
With his arm round Terence's shoulders, George piloted his chum
towards the huge fallen tree, beneath which he designed to pass the
night. 'You dear old fellow!' he said heartily, drawing Terence to
him. 'Who would have thought of meeting here, and like this? What a
mercy I came up in time!'
'Thank God you did!' replied Terence, unable to repress a shudder;
for when a brave man has stared death in the face, and the grim
Gatherer has passed on, leaving him untouched, he is not, as a rule,
flippant about his experience.
'When I came rushing up, I hadn't the faintest idea that I was to
meet you,' went on George. 'Indeed, I only recognised you when you
screamed at me in that queer, cracked voice. In the first place, I
had never seen you in uniform, and in the---- Hold up, old fellow!'
For Terence staggered and would have fallen, had not the strong arm
around his shoulders slipped to his waist and supported him.
George laid him down and bent anxiously over him, seeing that he had
fainted. The strain had been dreadful, and, brave though he was, his
emotional nature had lent an added poignancy to the sufferings of
that terrible half-hour.
In a few minutes he revived, and looking up at his friend with an
apologetic smile, murmured: 'I'm all right now. I did not mean----'
'Lie still and don't talk, dear old fellow,' interrupted George; but
Terence sat up with his back against the tree and drank a cup of
water which George handed him. Then George, wishful to take his
thoughts off his recent peril, began to chat about the sharpshooter
of the early morning.
'What became of that crack shot of yours?' he inquired. 'He was
wonderful. The Maoris lost two men, and I myself came within an ace
of adding another bull's-eye to his score.'
At this Terence gasped in a queer way and collapsed flat upon his
face; but when George, who thought that he had fainted again, was
about to rise, he scrambled to his knees, and catching his friend in
a bear's hug, exclaimed brokenly: 'Oh, thank God! O George, thank
God I didn't hit you! Oh!'
He buried his face in his arms, while George patted his broad back,
saying soothingly: 'So it was you after all! Curiously enough, I
thought so at the time; but I did not see how such a thing could be.
Cheer up, old fellow! There's no harm done.'
Terence wrung his friend's hand. There were traces of tears upon his
cheeks, but he did not seem to mind. 'I took deliberate aim at you,'
he said. 'We all thought that the white man on the hill must be one
of those Pakeha-Maori rascals; so I let drive and----'
'Missed him! So that's all right,' finished George cheerfully. 'You
must not let out to these people that you were the slayer of their
comrades, or we shall hear a lot about a blood-feud and have endless
trouble. By the way, was Te Karearea present at your court-martial?'
'I saw nothing of him until he stopped our little fight. Why?'
George did not explain. He had reason to know that the chief did not
always choose to appear as the moving spirit in the programme of
events. 'No matter,' he said. 'Now, I want to hear all your news.
Are you hungry?'
'Oh no; your friends fed me well before turning me over to the
hangman.'
'Don't call them my friends,' protested George. 'I would----'
'Oh! Then you are not a Pakeha-Maori?' put in Terence, with an air
of great simplicity.
'You are yourself again, I see,' said George, laughing. 'Fill your
pipe and let me hear your adventures.'
'I have had none until to-day,' began Terence. 'Colonel Cranstoun
was very kind to me on board; but he and Horn kept me at it with
never-ending drill. By the way, the colonel expressed his regret
that he had packed you off in the tug.'
'No! Surely not?' George grinned.
'Yes. He pulled his long moustache, and observed: "I should have
done better to keep the young scapegrace under my own eye."'
'You humbug!' laughed George. 'Go on.'
'He is a fine old fellow, George. On the third day out we met a
Sydney-bound brig, which hove to, and the colonel sent a letter to
your father. You saw it, no doubt.'
'No; but I am glad he wrote it. I started on your trail next
morning.'
'What a fellow you are!' said Terence admiringly. 'I was sure that
you would lose no time. But next morning!'
'Get on with your yarn,' ordered George.
'Right, sir! In due time we arrived at Auckland, where Colonel
Cranstoun took me out of the ranks and made me useful as an orderly,
or something of the kind. Since then I have been sent here, there,
and everywhere. My last mission was to bring dispatches from our
colonel in Wanganui to Major Biggs at Poverty Bay. There I found
Biggs just starting after your beauties, so I got permission to join
the expedition.'
'How did he hear of our arrival?' put in George.
'I can't say; and it is still a mystery to me how you come to be with
these fellows at all. I am burning to hear your story. However, I
will finish mine first. We have followed your trail for four days,
and to-day, as you know, the fight began. I was sent back to Turanga
for reinforcements; but as I heard on the way that Biggs was
somewhere else, hurrying up the commissariat, I rode hither again.
Of course I had not the least idea that the camp had meantime changed
hands. That's my history, and a dull one it is. Now for yours.'
He listened, absorbed, to the recital of his chum's adventures. 'I
do envy you,' he said, as George wound up his narrative. 'You
certainly have not lacked incident. Let me see this
wonderful--_mere_, do you call it?'
George handed over the club, which Terence examined with deep
interest.
'It seems to me,' he said at last, 'that you will do well to take
that old man's advice and hold fast to this club; for----'
'Oh, nonsense!' interjected George. 'How can there be any magic
inherent in a piece of greenstone? The curious things which have
occurred in connection with it are not inexplicable.'
'Explain, then, its return after your own eyes had seen it falling
into the sea.'
'There must be an explanation,' said George doggedly.
'Say, rather, that, like all your unimaginative race, you refuse to
believe in anything you cannot understand. If there is nothing
exceptional about the club, why is Te Karearea so anxious to get it?'
'It is, of course, surrounded with traditions,' began George, and
suddenly sprang up and darted round the tree in time to see a dark
figure bounding away into the bush. Pursuit was useless, so George
returned to their fire, expressing his conviction that the
eavesdropper had been Te Karearea.
'As I said, he attaches importance to the club, if you don't,' was
Terence's comment.
'More likely he came here to learn what he could about you,' George
argued; 'for I don't believe in his protestation of ignorance of
English.'
'All the same, you follow the old man's advice, and never let that
club be far from you,' urged Terence.
'Well, it is a singular fact that the moment of my greatest peril was
just after I had been deprived of the _mere_,' admitted George.
'Yet even that peril was averted.'
'Yes; and I do not understand why. From the moment of our meeting,
Te Karearea has treated me with great consideration, and--though it
may sound absurd--has sometimes seemed afraid of me. Not, of course,
in a physical sense. There is something incomprehensible at work.'
'Perhaps he still hopes to convert you to his views.'
'He need not on that account fear me.'
'True. The great thing is the plain fact that association with the
club has saved your life so far. I think----' He yawned widely.
'I think that you are more than half asleep,' finished George. 'Your
bed is there, under the tree, and here is a blanket for you.'
Terence threw himself down at once, but almost immediately sprang up
again. 'Give me your hand, George,' he said.
'What's the matter now?' asked George, obeying.
'Brute that I am, I have never even thanked you. But you know, old
fellow--my dear old chum, you know----' He paused, blinking hard.
'I should think I did!' cried George, capering with the pain of that
friendly squeeze. 'Brute! You are indeed. A grizzly isn't in it
with you. Away with you to bed, and don't talk any more nonsense.'
'I won't,' said Terence seriously; 'but I will do at last what I
ought to have done at first.' Without a word more he dropped upon
his knees and buried his face in his hands. A few minutes later he
rose quietly, and with a nod at George, lay down upon his fern-bed
and prepared to sleep.