A BID FOR LIBERTY
'Up with you!' said George, holding the swaying ladder. 'Wait on top
till we join you. What a good thing I had my flask.'
It was. The strong spirit nerved the invalids to the effort they
were obliged to make, and in a few minutes the four of them were
standing on the ledge outside the _pah_, and by means of the ladder
easily scaled the palisades.
The clamour still continued, and George and Terence swiftly piloted
their exhausted friends to the fence behind their hut. Here the
ladder came into play again, and they made for the underground world,
George explaining its peculiarities to Paeroa as they sped along.
'You will be safe enough if you do not wander far from the entrance,'
he assured the Maori. 'We will manage to visit you before long.'
They left the basket of food and the flask with the refugees, and,
still hurrying, for every minute was precious now, reached the
shelter of their _whare_ without encountering any of the Hau-haus.
'Have you found your club?' Terence asked, carefully bestowing
cartridges in his various pockets.
'No,' George answered gloomily. 'I must have dropped it last night
between the fence and the underground world. The strange part of it
is that I should not have missed it till just now.'
'The thing is always generating mysteries,' grumbled Terence. 'I
hope we shall find it, though; for it may make all the difference
between life and death to us.'
'You are right,' said George, who seemed much upset. 'Of course I do
not agree with you that there is anything supernatural about the
club; but still--but still----'
Terence's eyes grew round. 'You don't agree with me! Why, you old
humbug, when did I say that the thing had any supernatural power?'
'You talked of the English lack of imagination,' George replied
stiffly.
Terence laughed. 'The most wonderful thing about that blessed club
is that it has twice brought you and me to the brink of a dispute. I
really believe---- Hullo! Here he is.'
Unheard and unannounced, as usual, Te Karearea had entered. A grim
smile, quickly suppressed, parted his thin lips for an instant, and
he bent a frowning gaze upon George, who, angered out of himself at
the loss of his _mere_ and the memories which the sight of the chief
recalled, had sprung to his feet and was glaring defiantly at the
intruder.
'Salutations, friends!' said Te Karearea coldly. 'You did not meet
me at the gate, so I have come to----' He interrupted himself, his
furtive eyes gleaming. 'Where is the _mere_ of TUMATATJENGA,
Hortoni? It hangs not at your side.'
George made no answer; for it was important to ascertain whether the
chief had come straight from the _marae_, or had already visited the
hut and discovered their absence. Familiar with his friend's
lightest change of expression, Terence knew that the storm was ready
to break, and dropped his hand lightly upon the revolver in his coat
pocket, through which he covered the chief. If treachery were
intended, it was as well to be prepared.
'Speak, Hortoni!' Te Karearea's tone was imperative to the point of
insolence. His scarred face looked terrible under his malignant
scowl.
There was a steely glint in George's eyes, and his nostrils quivered;
but his voice was fairly calm as he answered: 'A man may do as he
likes with his own. If I have smashed the _mere_ among the rocks, or
thrown it into the river, what is it to you? You chatter like a
parrot, and with as little sense. Leave us. We wish to sleep.'
But Te Karearea had sense enough, and whatever black design he had in
his mind when he entered the hut, he put it away for the time, until
he should discover the truth about the _mere_. So, to the surprise
of his hearers, instead of flying into a rage, he grinned genially at
them.
'You are right, Hortoni,' he said. 'It is only children who talk
when they are tired, and quarrel till they fall asleep. I, too, am
weary and would rest. Perhaps you will be in a better mind
to-morrow, and will show me the _mere_ of TUMATAUENGA. I will go,
since you have nothing to say to me. Unless, indeed, you wish to
renew your parole,' he finished with a sneer.
A sudden, inexplicable impulse swayed George.
'Stay, O Hawk of the Mountain,' he said, and all appearance of anger
left him. 'For a moon past you have kept us here by means of a
trick. You caught us in a trap of our own making. Now shall there
be no more tricks, and, lest you go away again in the night, leaving
us fast here, I tell you to your face--you yourself and none
other--we take back our word.'
For once in his life Te Karearea had received a setback. His usual
coolness deserted him, and his ready tongue tripped as he asked if he
had heard aright.
'Does this mean that you will try to escape, Hortoni?' he inquired,
when both George and Terence had repeated their decision. He moved
backwards towards the door as if he feared an immediate attack.
'Why not?' George answered coolly. 'We have told you that we do not
wish to stay here, yet you will not let us go. Now we will go
whether you will allow us or not.'
But Te Karearea had recovered his equanimity. 'When?' he inquired,
with an air of great simplicity.
George laughed. 'It is enough for you to know that we will go.'
'When the gates of Reinga are shut, why seek to open them, Hortoni?
Take time to think,' suggested the chief.
'It is time to act,' retorted George, and Terence, informed of his
friend's sudden resolution, nodded assent.
Te Karearea was puzzled. Sly and designing himself, he could
appreciate straightforwardness in others; yet he could not believe
that his captives would have taken such a stand unless there was
something underlying their conduct of which he was ignorant.
Meantime, confident of his ability to prevent their escape, he
temporised.
'Nevertheless, I give you time for thought, my friends,' he said.
Then, being a superb actor, he stopped on the threshold. 'If you
will, I can set my young men to look for your _mere_ in the morning,
Hortoni,' he suggested graciously.
'Have I said that it was lost?' George countered quickly. 'But, if
it were, did your young men find it when it dragged itself from your
hand and flew into the sea? Have you yet to learn, O Te Karearea,
that my God has given me the _mere_ to stand between me and death?'
Te Karearea was silenced. Muttering a charm, he slid through the
door, which presently was blocked outside. Terence put his ear to
the wall and could hear the shuffling of naked feet, as if a number
of men were dispersing. He turned to his friend.
'If the _mere_ had been in your belt, George, I believe that the
chief would have taken chances and attacked you to gain possession of
it. He had a dozen men outside. But its absence puzzled him. Am I
far wrong in saying that, either by its presence or its absence, the
greenstone club is for ever coming between you and death?'
'Even as I said to Te Karearea,' agreed George. 'Yes; old Te
Kaihuia's gift was nothing short of a providence. What are we to do
now? I had no idea of taking back our parole so suddenly; but
something seemed to force me to do it. You don't object?'
'I should say not. The sooner we are out of here the better. I
didn't like the look in the Hawk's eyes.'
'I hope we shall be out of it before dawn,' said George. 'When the
chief once realises that the _mere_ is gone, things will happen
quickly. You may be sure it was not simply for the pleasure of
greeting us that he came here to-night. He was in a black mood, and
I suspect, if the truth were known, he has been well hammered by our
people.'
'More power to them!' cried Terence. 'You are right, George; it is
time to quit. I am not sure whether the chief takes us seriously;
but he has left a guard at the door.'
'Only one?' asked George, and Terence nodded. 'I have a plan in the
rough,' he went on, looking at his watch. 'It is just eleven. The
sentry will probably be changed at two or three o'clock. We will
divide that time between watching and resting. If we are quiet,
sentry number one will give a good account of us. Then, an hour or
so later----'
'We must dispose of number two.' Terence filled in the pause.
'I am afraid so,' said George regretfully. 'Our lives hang in the
balance, and the lives of many others as well. We will avoid extreme
measures if possible. I wish I had my club. The very sight of it
would frighten the fellow into submission.'
Terence looked up at the roof and grinned. 'I am waiting to see if
your genii, _taipos_, _taniwhas_, or whoever are the slaves of the
greenstone club, will bring it back to you the instant you express a
wish,' he said. 'There is a smack of Aladdin and his lamp about the
thing. Well, what next?'
'We must scale the fence behind the _whare_,' answered George,
smiling. 'The sentries are stationed at intervals along the
platform, and we must manage to dodge the nearest. We'll manage
it--we _must_.'
'I'll take the first watch,' said Terence.
'No; I will, in case there is any talking to be done. I wish that we
had another basket of food. It may go hard with us in the bush. Lie
down and sleep while you may, old fellow.'
Terence drew his mat over him as he lay upon his bed of fern, and
with the readiness of a bushman dropped asleep, while George sat with
his knees drawn up to his chin, thinking out details and planning, as
far as he could beforehand, to meet developments.
The hours passed, he heard the stealthy footsteps of the relief, and
caught a word or two of the low-voiced colloquy as the guard made his
report. And all the time Terence slept comfortably, though the time
for his watch had come and gone.
All at once George started, raised his head and listened intently.
What was that thin, scratching noise at the back of the hut? He
lightly laid his hand upon Terence's shoulder, and the practised
bushman was instantly awake, alert and vigilant.
'Some one is cutting through the thatch,' George breathed into his
comrade's ear.
This was possible enough. The roof, which, after the Maori fashion
of architecture, descended within a few feet of the earth, was
thatched with _raupo_ and other reeds which, though thick, were soft
and might easily be ripped by a sharp knife. The only question was
the motive of the intruder.
Presently a piece of _raupo_, detached from the thatch, fell upon the
floor. The visitor, whoever he was, had penetrated the roof. George
stole to the widening hole, Terence to the door, and so they waited,
holding their revolvers by the barrel, ready for whatever might
chance.
'_Hortoni!_' Just the whispered word; but George's heart leaped, for
the voice was Paeroa's, and he knew that his faithful ally, and not
an enemy, stood without.
'I am here, O Whispering Wind,' he breathed back. 'Why----'
'Hush! Speak not, Hortoni. Do you and Mura take these knives and
widen the hole. I will return.'
Presently, as they ripped and cut, the Maori returned and whispered
with his mouth at the hole: 'Te Taroa, whom the Hawk set to guard
you, is asleep. Hasten, Hortoni, for there are evil spirits in the
air, and Life and Death contend which shall have you.'
Hurriedly he told them how he had come back to the entrance of the
underground world, vaguely suspecting mischief, and found it blocked.
Alarmed, he had fetched Kawainga, wormed a way out, and sent the girl
down the hill to the flax-patch on the west. Then he had crept under
the stockade and learned from the chatter of the sentries that Te
Karearea had suffered a crushing defeat and had fled to the _pah_ to
renew his supplies and ammunition. Further, he learned of the loss
of the greenstone club, the withdrawal of the prisoners' parole, and,
knowing well the consequences to Hortoni if the _mere_ were really
gone, had scaled the palisades in order to urge his friends to escape
without loss of time.
The hole in the roof being now wide enough for them to pass through,
Terence very unwillingly went first. George was half-out and half-in
when a sneeze was heard in front of the hut, followed by a yawn and
the comfortable grunt of a man stretching himself. Te Taroa was
awake, and, more, was coming round the hut, as though to atone for
his carelessness.
Suddenly he stopped, every keen sense alert, and sprang back,
open-mouthed; but, before he could yell an alarm, the butt of
Terence's revolver crashed down upon his head, and he fell back
stunned.
George was now out, and by Paeroa's directions he and Terence removed
their boots, lest they should clatter as they climbed the palisades.
The Maori went first, then Terence passed down the boots and swung
himself over, and, lastly, George jumped on to the platform and laid
his hands on the top of the stockade.
Ten seconds more and he would have been over, but, as he straddled
the fence, the roar of a gun at close-quarters and the 'wheep' of a
bullet past his head so startled him that he lost his balance and
fell headlong. But, instead of rolling into the ditch he banged
against the fence and remained suspended there, unable for the moment
to free himself. His sock had caught upon a projecting stake near
the top of the stockade.
'Run!' he gasped. 'I'm after you.'
Not suspecting his plight, Paeroa and Terence sped towards the upper
bridge, while a number of Hau-haus clambered over the fence, leaped,
or floundered through, the ditch, and hurried away in blind pursuit.
For the night was very dark.
George's peculiar position undoubtedly saved his life, for the
Hau-haus deemed him far ahead; so, when the chase had swept by, he
reversed his uncomfortable attitude and dropped into the ditch.
Not caring to run any more risks, he laid his revolver on the top of
the bank before climbing out; but, he had scarcely begun to move when
a Maori swung over the stockade and landed fairly on top of him.
The yell died in the man's throat as George grappled with him,
forcing him back against the sloping side of the ditch with one hand,
while he groped for his revolver with the other. But he had been
dragged somewhat to one side in the short, sharp struggle, and the
weapon eluded his grasp. The Hau-hau turned and twisted, striking
ineffectual blows; but he had no chance against George, whose groping
hand presently encountered a long, hard stone just below the edge of
the ditch.
'This will do,' he thought, and laid the man out with a well-directed
blow. Then down he went on his hands and knees to search for his
revolver. Realising how important it was that he should find it, he
drew a match from his pocket and, covering it with his hat, struck it
against the stone which he still held in his hand.
For an instant it flickered, and then flared up. But George,
careless of his exposed situation, knelt, staring with wide, almost
frightened, eyes at the greenstone club, which he held once again in
his hands.