The Adventures of Don Lavington Part 98

"Better wait, Mas' Don. This sort o' thing can't last. We shall soon eat up all the fruit, and then they'll make a move, and we may have a better chance."

Don sighed and lay with his eyes half-closed, watching one particular star which shone in through the doorway.

But not for long. The star seemed to grow misty as if veiled by a cloud; then it darkened altogether; so it seemed to Don, for the simple reason that he had fallen fast asleep.

It appeared only a minute since he was gazing at the star before he felt a hand pressed across his mouth, and with a horrible dread of being smothered, he uttered a hoa.r.s.e, stifled cry, and struggled to get free; but another hand was pressed upon his chest, and it seemed as if the end had come.

CHAPTER FIFTY ONE.

NGATI'S GOAL.

Just as in the case of a dream, a long s.p.a.ce of time in the face of a terrible danger seems to pa.s.s in what is really but a few moments. Don, in an agony of apprehension, was struggling against the hands which held him, when a deep voice whispered in his ear,--

"My pakeha."

"Ngati!"

Don caught the hands in his, and sat up slowly, while the chief awakened Jem in the same manner, and with precisely the same result.

"Why, I thought it was Mike Bannock trying to smother me," grumbled Jem, sitting up. "What's the matter?"

"I don't know, Jem. Ngati just woke me in the dark, and--Oh! Ngati!"

His hands trembled, and a curious feeling of excitement coursed through his veins, as at that moment he felt the stock of a gun pressed into his hands, Jem exclaiming the next moment as he too clasped a gun.

"But there arn't no powder and--Yes, there is."

Jem ceased speaking, for he had suddenly felt that there was a belt and pouch attached to the gun-barrel, and without another word he slipped the belt over his shoulder.

"What do you mean, Ngati?" whispered Don hastily.

"Go!" was the laconic reply; and in an instant the lad realised that the Maori had partly comprehended his words that evening, had thought out the full meaning, and then crept silently to the convicts' den, and secured the arms.

Don rose excitedly to his feet.

"The time has come, Jem," he whispered.

"Yes, and I dursen't shout hooroar!"

Ngati was already outside, waiting in the starlight; and as Don stepped out quickly with his heart beating and a sense of suffocation at the throat, he could just make out that the Maori held the third musket, and had also three spears under his arm.

He handed one of the latter to each, and then stood listening for a few moments with his head bent in the direction of the convicts'

resting-place.

The steam jet hissed, and the vapour rose like a dim spectral form; the water gurgled and splashed faintly, but there was no other sound, and, going softly in the direction of the opening, Ngati led the way.

"We must leave it to him, Jem, and go where he takes us," whispered Don.

"Can't do better," whispered back Jem. "Wait just a moment till I get this strap o' the gun over my shoulder. It's awkward to carry both gun and spear."

"Wait till we get farther away, Jem."

_Crash_! A flash of fire, and a report which echoed like thunder from the face of the rocks.

Jem, in pa.s.sing the sling of the musket over his head, had let it fall upon the stones with disastrous effect.

"Run, Mas' Don; never mind me."

"Are you hurt?"

"Dunno."

Jem was in a stooping posture as he spoke, but he rose directly, as there was a rush heard in the direction of the convicts' lair, and catching Don's hand they ran off stealthily after Ngati, who had returned, and then led the way once more.

Not a word was spoken, and after the first rush and the scramble and panting of men making for the rocks, all was very still. Ngati led on, pa.s.sing in and out among tree and bush, and ma.s.s of rock, as if his eyes were quite accustomed to the darkness, while, big as he was, his bare feet made no more sound than the paws of a cat.

Both Don and Jem followed as silently as they could, but they could not help catching against the various obstacles, and making noises which produced a warning "Hss.h.!.+" from their leader.

As they pa.s.sed on they listened intently for sounds of pursuit, but for awhile there were none; the fact being that at the sound of the shot the convicts believed that they were attacked, and rus.h.i.+ng out, they made for the mountain. But as no further shots were heard, they grew more bold, and, after waiting listening for awhile, they stole back to the shed that should have been occupied by Don and his friends; where, finding them gone, they hurried into their own place, found that the arms were taken, and, setting up a shout, dashed off in pursuit.

The shout sent a s.h.i.+ver through Don and Jem, for it sounded terribly near, and they hurried on close to the heels of Ngati, forgetful for the moment of the fact that they were armed, and their pursuers were weaponless.

After a time the sounds from the camp, which had been heard plainly on the night wind, ceased, and for the first time Don questioned Jem as to his injury.

"Where are you hurt, Jem?"

"Shoulder," said that worthy, laconically.

"Again?"

"No; not again."

"But I mean when the gun went off."

"In my head, Mas' Don."

"Ah! We might stop now. Let me bind it up for you."

"No, no; it don't bleed," replied Jem, gruffly. "I mean hurt inside my head, 'cause I could be such a stoopid as to let this here gun fall."

"Then you are not wounded?"

"Not a bit, my lad; and if you'll stop now, I think I'll try and load again."

But Ngati insisted on pus.h.i.+ng on, and kept up a steady walk right south in the direction of the star which had shone in through the doorway.