The Adventures of Don Lavington Part 95

He stopped and listened to a peculiar sound which he knew was the forcing down of a wad in a gun-barrel. Then the strange hissing noise was continued, and he could tell by the sounds that three guns were being loaded.

The natives, as far as he knew, had no guns, therefore these must be a party of sailors sent to shoot them down; and in the horror of being seen and made the mark for a bullet, Don was about to creep cautiously into a denser part of the bush, when he stopped short, asking himself whether he was in a dream.

"All primed?" cried a hoa.r.s.e voice, which made Don wonder whether he was back in his uncle's yard at Bristol.

"Ay, ay."

"Come on, then. I know I brought one of 'em down. Sha'n't want no more meat for a month."

"Say, mate, what are they?"

"I d'know. Noo Zealand turkeys, I s'pose."

"Who ever heard of turkey eight or nine foot high!" growled one of the approaching party.

"Never mind who heard of 'em; we've seen 'em and shot 'em. Hallo!

Where are they? Mine ought to be about here."

"More to the left, warn't it, mate?"

"Nay, it was just about here."

There was a loud rustling and heavy breathing as if men were searching here and there, and then some one spoke again--the man whose voice had startled Don.

"I say, lads, you saw me bring that big one down?"

"I saw you shoot at it, Mikey; but it don't seem as if you had brought it down. They must ha' ducked their heads, and gone off under the bushes."

"But they was too big for that."

"Nay, not they. Looked big in the mist, same as things allus do in a fog."

"I don't care; I see that great bird quite plain, and I'm sure I hit him, and he fell somewhere--hah!"

There was the sharp _click_, _click_ of a gun being c.o.c.ked, and a voice roared out,--

"Here, you, Mike Bannock, don't shoot me."

There was a loud rustling among the ferns, and then Jem shouted again.

"Mas' Don--Ngati! Why--hoi--oh! It's all right!"

The familiar voice--the name Mike Bannock, and Jem's cheery, boyish call, made Don rise, wondering more than ever whether this was not a dream.

The day was rapidly growing lighter, and after answering Jem's hail, Don caught sight of him standing under a tree in company with three wild, gaunt-looking men.

"Mas' Don! Ahoy! Mas' Don!"

"I'm here, Jem, but mind the Maoris."

"I forgot them!" cried Jem. "Look out! There was a lot of savages arter us."

The three men darted behind trees, and stood with their guns presented in the direction of the supposed danger, Don and Jem also seeking cover and listening intently.

"Were you hit, Jem?"

"No, my lad; were you?"

"No. Where's Ngati?"

"I'm afraid he has got it, my lad. He went down like a stone."

"But Mike! How came he here?"

"I d'know, my lad. Hi! Stop! Don't shoot. Friends."

Ngati, who came stalking up through the bush, spear in hand, had a narrow escape, for two guns were presented at him, and but for the energetic action of Don and Jem in striking them up, he must have been hit.

"Oh, this is a friend, is it?" said Mike Bannock, as he gave a tug at his rough beard, and turned from one to the other. "Arn't come arter me, then?"

"No, not likely," said Jem. "Had enough of you at home."

"Don't you be sarcy," growled Mike Bannock; "and lookye here, these gentlemen--friends of mine!"--he nodded sidewise at the two fierce-looking desperadoes at his side--"is very nice in their way, but they won't stand no fooling. Lookye here. How was it you come?"

"In a s.h.i.+p of war," said Don.

"Ho! Then where's that s.h.i.+p o' war now?"

"I don't know."

"No lies now," said the fellow fiercely; "one o' these here gentlemen knocked a man on the head once for telling lies."

"Ah," growled one of the party, a short, evil-looking scoundrel, with a scar under his right eye.

"Hear that?" cried Mike Bannock. "Now, then, where's that there s.h.i.+p?"

"I tell you I don't know," said Don sharply.

"Whorrt!" shouted Mike, seizing Don by the throat; but the next moment a sharp blow from a spear handle made him loosen his hold, and Ngati stood between them, tall and threatening.

"Here, come on, mates, if you don't want to be took!" cried Mike, and his two companions raised the rusty old muskets they bore.

"Put them down, will yer?" cried Jem. "Lookye here, Mike Bannock: Mas'

Don told you he didn't know where the s.h.i.+p was, and he don't. We've left her."

"Ah!" growled Mike, looking at him suspiciously. "Now, look here: don't you try none of your games on me."

"Look here!" cried Jem fiercely; "if you give me any of your impudence, Mike Bannock, I'll kick you out of the yard."