heir hunt for food.

When they encountered a stream, which came foaming and plunging down
from the mountain, after carefully trying its depth, Ngati still led the
way. Hour after hour they tramped wearily on through the darkness,
Ngati rarely speaking, but pausing now and then to help them over some
rugged place. Everything in the darkness was wild and strange, and
there was an unreality in the journey that appeared dreamlike, the more
so that, utterly worn out, Don from time to time tramped on in a state
of drowsiness resembling sleep.

But all this passed away as the faint light of day gave place to the
brilliant glow of the morning sunshine, and Ngati came to a standstill
in a ferny gully, down which a tremendous torrent poured with a heavy
thunderous sound.

And now, as Don and Jem were about to throw themselves down upon a bed
of thick moss, Ngati held out his hand in English fashion to Don.

"My pakeha," he said softly, "morning."

There was something so quaint in his salutation that, in spite of
weariness and trouble, Don laughed till he saw the great chiefs
countenance cloud.

But it cleared at once as Don caught his hand, pressed it warmly, and
looked gratefully in his face.

"Hah!" cried Ngati, grasping the hand he held with painful energy. "My
pakeha, morning. Want eat?"

"Yes, yes!" cried Jem, eagerly.

"Yes, yes," said Ngati; and then he stood, looking puzzled, as he tried
to remember. At last, shaking his head sadly, he said, "No, no," in a
helpless, dissatisfied tone. "Want Tomati. Tomati--"

He closed his eyes, and laid his head sidewise, to suggest that Tomati
was dead, and his countenance, in spite of his grotesque tattooing, wore
an aspect of sadness that touched Don.

"Tomati dead," he said slowly, and the chiefs eyes brightened.

"Dead," he said; "Tomati dead--dead--all--dead."

"Yes, poor fellows, all but the prisoners," said Don, speaking slowly,
in the hope that the chief might grasp some of his words.

But he did not understand a syllable, though he seemed to feel that Don
was sympathising with him, and he shook hands again gravely.

"My pakeha," he said, pressing Don's hand. Then turning to Jem, he held
out his other hand, and said slowly, "Jemmeree. Good boy."

"Well, that's very kind of you," said Jem, quietly. "We don't
understand one another much, but I do think you a good fellow, Ngati; so
I shake hands hearty; and I'll stand by you, mate, as you've stood by
m