e."

"Good, good," said Ngati, smiling, as if he understood all. Then,
looking grave and pained again, he pointed over the mountain. "Maori
kill," he said. "Want eat?"

"Yes; eat, eat," said Jem, making signs with his mouth. "Pig--meat."

"No pig; no meat," said Ngati, grasping the meaning directly; and going
to a palm-like tree, he broke out some of its tender growth and handed
it to his companions.

"Eat," he said; and he began to munch some of it himself.

"Look at that now," said Jem. "I should ha' gone by that tree a hundred
times without thinking it was good to eat. What's it like, Mas' Don?"

"Something like stalky celery, or nut, or pear, all mixed up together."

"Yes; 'tarn't bad," said Jem. "What's he doing now?"

Ngati was busily hunting about for something, peering amongst the trees,
but he did not seem to find that of which he was in search. He uttered
a cry of satisfaction the next minute, though, as he stooped down and
took a couple of eggs from a nest upon the ground.

"Good--good!" he exclaimed, eagerly; and he gave them to Don to carry,
while he once more resumed his search, which this time was successful,
for he found a young tree, and stripped from its branches a large number
of its olive-like berries.

"There now," said Jem. "Why, it's all right, Mas' Don; 'tarn't tea and
coffee, and bread and butter, but it's salad and eggs and fruit. Why,
fighting cocks'll be nothing to it. We shall live like princes, see if
we don't. What's them things like?"

"Like very ripe apples, Jem, or medlars," replied Don, who had been
tasting the fruit carefully.

"That'll do, then. Pity we can't find some more of them eggs, and don't
light a fire to cook 'em. I say, Ngati."

The Maori looked at him inquiringly.

"More, more," said Jem, holding up one of the eggs, and pointing to the
ferny thicket.

"No, no," said Ngati, shaking his head. "Moa, moa."

He stooped down and held his hands apart in different directions, as if
he were describing the shape of a moderate-sized oval pumpkin. Then,
rising erect, he raised one hand to the full extent of his arm, bending
the fingers so as to imitate the shape of a bird's head, pressed his
head against his arm, placed the left arm close to his body and a little
forward, and then began to stalk about slowly.

"Moa, moa," he said, dropping his arm again, and pointing to the eggs,
"Kiwi, kiwi."

"Kiwi, kiwi," said Jem. "Can't make out what he mean