POKEKE, THE SULLEN ONE
It was high day when George awoke, and the sweet, confused odours
that stole from the forest on the breath of the morning filled him
with a pleasant sense of well-being as he stretched his great limbs
and rubbed the last mists of sleep out of his eyes. A few paces away
Terence still slept; but George, without awaking him, set himself to
study the lie of the land.
It was an exquisite scene, full of light and colour. The sombre
green of the dense bush encircling the island was flecked with the
glowing scarlet of _rata_ blossoms and the beautiful white stars of
the clematis which garlanded and festooned the tall trees, while with
harsh scream and cackle occasional flocks of parrakeets swept by in
glancing flight, the crimson and green of their gaudy wings flashing
in the sunshine like fragments of a rainbow. It was difficult to
realise that, a mile or less away, five or six hundred grim-faced
warriors lurked in the peaceful forest glades.
But it was in no romantic mood that George took his bearings, for his
dominant wish was to discover some way out of the trap in which they
were set, and which he meant to leave as soon as possible after
having withdrawn his parole.
The whole of the island plain was densely covered with New Zealand
flax,[1] the ground being for the most part swampy, save close to the
road, from hill to river. Once among these flax-clumps, George
thought, a hard-pressed fugitive would have an excellent chance of
escape; for the so-called flax-bush is a collection of broad, stiff,
upstanding leaves, tough enough to stop a bullet, and dense enough to
conceal a man, who might dodge from bush to bush and reach the river
in safety.
[1] _Phormiun tenax_: not the true flax.
'That is the most satisfactory bit of landscape,' murmured unpoetic
George, and had just turned to greet Terence, who had hailed him,
when a voice close behind him said:
'Salutations, Hortoni, and to you, Mura, salutations. I have looked
for you since the dawn. Where did you sleep last night?'
'Here,' replied George, determined not to give away the least
advantage by overmuch speech.
'Why did you leave the bivouac?'
'I think the bivouac left us.' George smiled pleasantly. 'We woke
to find it deserted, and such a dreadful racket arose that it was
impossible to sleep through the din.' He interpreted to Terence, who
nodded emphatically, preferring this method on account of his
admitted tendency to 'open his mouth and put his foot in it.'
'And so you removed to this side?' pursued the chief.
'We had very little inducement to remain on the other,' said George
truthfully. 'What was the cause of that terrific noise?'
'Night is the council-time of the Maori,' Te Karearea replied. 'I
and my people were met together. Then Paeroa returned with men of
Ngatiawa and Waikato, and reported that a band of Arawa dogs had
followed at his heels. Thereafter arose a cry that spies were
lurking in the scrub.'
The furtive brown eyes, steady for once, stared hard at George, whose
expression was one of genuine surprise.
This was news indeed, if true. Nothing would more effectually divert
suspicion from them than the supposed proximity of Arawa scouts.
George had much ado to conceal his satisfaction; but all he said was,
after interpreting to Terence: 'Can we still get breakfast at the
camp, Chief? We have slept late.'
'Kawainga weeps for your absence,' returned the Maori, with an
ironical grin. 'Go and see.' He was evidently puzzled, and, as he
turned to go, informed them: 'At noon I enter the _pah_ with my
warriors. Be ready, Hortoni, for I desire that you and Mura should
enter it with me as honoured guests.'
George bowed low, the corners of his mouth twitching, and, with a
dignified gesture of farewell, the chief drew his mat about his
shoulders and stalked away up the hill.
After breakfast Terence strolled off to take a look at the
reinforcements, and, while George sat quietly on a log, smoking,
Kawainga appeared and began to collect the wooden plates and tin
cups. Once, as she passed him, she said almost in a whisper: 'Paeroa
waits on the bush track where the river forks'; and again, as she
repassed with her hands full: 'Hasten, Hortoni, for when the shadows
shorten the Hawk will return.'
George made no sign that he heard, but as soon as the girl had
withdrawn, looked at his watch and strolled carelessly along the
track towards the river. There was not too much time, for it was
nearly half-past eleven; but he felt that he must learn what Paeroa
wanted with him, knowing that the man would not have sent him such a
message and in such a way for nothing.
By the river bridge he stopped as if undecided which way to go, then
turned to the left and followed the bank towards the fork. Half-way
thither he stopped again, hands in pockets, and one foot idly kicking
up the soil. He was the picture of a man with nothing to do. Note
that he was standing now in the clearing between the bush and the
river, about midway between the two.
While he loitered there, his greenstone club slipped from his belt to
the ground, and without the loss of a moment he stooped to recover
it. As he did so, a bullet hummed over his bending head, and he
heard the sharp smack of a gun close by.
Once again the _mere_ had been the means of saving his life; for, had
he remained erect, he must have been shot through the head.
Confusion seized George's brain as he snatched up the club and
bounded into the bush in search of the assassin. As he broke through
the fringing trees, he saw Terence, fists up, waiting for a burly
Maori to rise from the ground. No sooner had the fellow found his
feet than the Irishman hit him a terrific blow on the point of the
chin, and down he went again into the fern and lay senseless.
'Oh, it was you he was after then,' cried George. 'He nearly hit me,
all the same.'
'Naturally,' Terence observed drily. 'He was taking careful aim at
you when I spotted him. He pulled off before I could reach him, but
next minute I knocked him down. It is a good thing you saw him and
ducked in time.'
'But I didn't see him,' George said rather wearily. 'The instant
before that shot was fired, the greenstone club slipped through my
belt to the ground, though I had secured it ten minutes earlier. As
I stooped to raise it, the bullet passed over my head.'
Terence's eyes grew round. 'What are we to make of this?' he said.
'This much. The fellow--who, I see, is one of the new
contingent--was watching for me. When he saw me separated from the
_mere_, he fired, supposing me vulnerable.'
'No.' Terence shook his head. 'He rested his gun in the fork of
that sapling, and took careful aim at you as you stood. He could not
possibly know that you would drop the club at that particular moment.
I don't suppose he even knows you have it, as you say he is one of
the new men.'
'But you don't mean to argue that the _mere_ slipped out of my belt
in order to open a way of escape for me?'
'That is exactly what happened, at all events.'
'And you had nothing to do with the matter?' Terence shook his head,
and George, passing his hand in a dazed way across his brow, said: 'I
can't think of anything just now. Besides, I must go. I'll tell
you where later on. Can you manage to take that fellow back to the
camp?'
'Rather,' affirmed Terence; 'but you may as well tell him, that, if
he doesn't go quietly, I will lodge one of his own bullets in him.'
George gave the required hint to the Hau-hau, who scowled. Then he
dashed out of the bush, almost upsetting Te Karearea, who was
standing in the open.
'Can he be at the bottom of this latest outrage?' thought George.
'Confound him, I shall not be able to meet Paeroa. Well, it can't be
helped.' No; but the missing of that interview meant more to George
than he dreamed of at the time.
'Whither do you run so fast, Hortoni?' demanded the chief.
'Did you hear a shot just now?' returned George, eyeing him.
'I heard it. One of my fools was firing at a parrot, or, perhaps, a
pig.'
'In the eyes of your "fool" I stood for one or the other,' said
George, still staring at the chief. 'That shot was aimed at me; but,
as the trigger was pulled, I stooped to pick up something I had
dropped.'
'No one would dare,' Te Karearea cried stormily.
'The man fired to kill,' insisted George. 'Mura saw him and knocked
him down, and is even now taking him to be judged by you.'
'Ha! Then Mura saved your life?'
George met him eye to eye. 'Nay, O Hawk,' he said quietly; 'I owe my
life, under God's providence, to the _mere_ of TUMATAUENGA.'
Te Karearea started violently. 'Again!' he muttered. 'Again!'
Then: 'Come with me, Hortoni, and we will deal with this breaker of
laws.'
'Mura's hand has already fallen heavily upon him,' said George, as
they moved away. He did not notice Paeroa, who peered from behind a
tree near the fork, and immediately darted into the bush. But Te
Karearea's keen eyes saw him, though he said not a word to George.
They reached the camp just as Terence emerged from the bush with his
prisoner. At once there was a rush of the new arrivals towards their
comrade, whose appearance was deplorable, for his nose had bled
freely, and his eyes were almost closed. The Maoris hung back for a
moment as Terence levelled his rifle, and Te Karearea, taking
advantage of the pause, sprang to meet them, crying: 'Back, dogs, or
I will loose upon you the _mere_ of TUMATAUENGA!'
At this dread threat the Hau-haus recoiled, and Te Karearea whispered
a sharp aside to George: 'Quick! Give me the club. If the fools see
it in my hand, they will know that I have not told them a tale.'
He was a great actor, this Te Karearea; but George was not taken in.
'I will show it to them, Chief,' he said, stepping to the front.
'Behold the _mere_ of TUMATAUENGA!' he began, when there arose a
great commotion, and Te Karearea uttered a cry of warning. The Maori
whom Terence had battered, rendered reckless by rage and pain,
wrenched a rifle from the nearest of his compatriots, rushed at
George, and yelling, 'Die, accursed Pakeha!' pushed the muzzle within
a few inches of his chest and pulled the trigger.
With a shout of horror, Terence sprang forward; but, to the utter
amazement of all, George, who still stood erect, holding up the
_mere_, reversed the weapon and with a quiet smile brought it down
sharply upon the head of his would-be murderer, who for the third
time that morning measured his length on the ground.
With a feeling that the world was turning upside down, Terence stared
at his friend, while deep-toned exclamations expressed the
bewilderment of the Maoris. There was the burn upon the Pakeha's
coat, just over the heart. 'Na! The _mere_ of TUMATAUENGA was
strong indeed when it could turn a bullet like that. Na! Best let
the Pakeha alone and save themselves, lest his magic make short work
of them, even as it had done of Pokeke--the Sullen One--who had fired
the shot.' With one accord they bolted out of reach of this dealer
in magic and spells.
With Terence gazing, wonder-struck, and Te Karearea glancing
fearfully at him, George still stood with rigid muscles and set
smile, though he was deadly pale. He was, indeed, as much amazed as
any of them at his marvellous escape. So many queer things had
happened, that it never occurred to him then, any more than to the
least intelligent among the Hau-haus, that in the hurry of loading an
unfamiliar weapon, the Maori who owned the gun had probably forgotten
to put in the wad over the ball, which had naturally rolled out of
the barrel long before the gun was fired.[2]
[2] A fact.
For all his outward coolness, he was shaken and spent, and it was
only by the supremest effort that he managed to control his quivering
nerves and stand there, calm and smiling, as if he had anticipated
this very result.
Te Karearea was almost as frightened as were his men, and the
temptation he felt to run along with them warred hard against the
necessity for keeping up his dignity in their presence. But his iron
will conquered, and presently he turned to George and said with a
forced smile: 'Teach me your magic, Hortoni, I pray you. We Hau-haus
claim to be invulnerable in battle, but----'
But George, now that the strain was lifted, felt suddenly limp and
intensely desirous of being left alone. So with a protesting wave of
the hand he cut into the chief's speech. 'Another time, O Hawk of
the Mountain, we will talk of this wonder. Now I go to give thanks
to my God, who is stronger than TUMATAUENGA, and who twice within the
hour has saved me from death.'
He was about to withdraw when a thought struck him, and, pointing to
the prostrate Pokeke, he said: 'I claim that man to do with as I
will.'
'He is yours,' Te Karearea assented laconically, and, closely
followed by Terence, George entered the bush and disappeared.