had heard Jem whistle that tune a score of times.

This set him thinking of home, his mother, and Cousin Kitty. Then of
stern-looking Uncle Josiah, who, after all, did not seem to have been
unkind.

"Poor Mas' Don! Will he ever get well again?" a voice whispered close
to his ear.

"Jem!"

"Oh, Mas' Don! Oh! Oh! Oh! Thank the great Lord o' mussy. Amen!
Amen! Amen!"

There was the sound of some one going down heavily upon his knees, a
pair of clasped hands rested on Don's breast; and, as he turned his eyes
sidewise, he could see the top of Jem's head as the bed shook, and there
was the sound of some one sobbing violently, but in a choking, smothered
way.

"Jem! Is that you? What's the matter?" whispered Don feebly.

"And he says, `What's the matter?'" cried Jem, raising his head, and
bending over Don. "Dear lad, dear lad; how are you now?"

"Quite well, thank you, Jem, only I can't lift up my head."

"And don't you try, Mas' Don. Oh, the Lord be thanked! The Lord be
thanked!" he muttered. "What should I ha' done?"

"Have--have I been ill, Jem?"

"I'll, Mas' Don? Why, I thought you was going to die, and no doctor,
not even a drop of salts and senny to save your life."

"Oh, nonsense, Jem! I never thought of doing such a thing! Ah, I
remember now. I felt poorly. My head was bad."

"Your head bad? I should think it was bad. Dear lad, what stuff you
have been saying."

"Have I, Jem? What, since I lay down among the ferns this morning?"

"This morning, Mas' Don! Why, it's close upon a month ago."

"What?"

"That's so, my lad. We come back from cutting wood to find you lying
under a tree, and when we got here it was to find poor old `my pakeha'
with a shot-hole in him, and his head all beaten about with big clubs."

"Oh, Jem!"

"That's so, Mas' Don."

"Is he better?"

"Oh, yes; he's getting better. I don't think you could kill him. Sort
o' chap that if you cut him to pieces some bit or another would be sure
to grow again."

"Why, it was Mike Bannock and those wretches, Jem."

"That's what we thought, my lad, but we couldn't find out. It was some
one, and whoever it was took away three guns."

"I saw them, Jem."

"You see 'em?"

"Yes, as I lay back with my head so bad that I couldn't be sure."

"Ah, well, they found us out, and they've got their guns again; but they
give it to poor Ngati awful."

Just then the window was darkened by a hideous-looking face, which