pitifully, with
a Somersetshire man's bold attempt at the making of an Irish bull.

"My pakeha! My pakeha!" said a deep voice; and Jem became aware of the
fact that the big chief he had so often seen on board the ship, and who
had come to them with the present of fruit when they were guarding the
boat, was kneeling down and gently rubbing Don.

"Is he dead?" said Jem in a whisper.

"No, not this time," said the gruff voice out of the darkness. "Pretty
nigh touch, though, for both of you. Why didn't you hail sooner?"

"Hail sooner?" said Jem.

"Yes. We came in the canoe to fetch you, but you didn't hail, and it
was too dark to see."

"We couldn't hail," said Jem, sulkily. "It would have brought the boats
down upon us."

"Ah, so it would," said the owner of the gruff voice. "There's three
boats out after you."

"And shall you give us up?"

"Give you up? Not I. I've nothing to do with it; you must talk to
him."

"My pakeha!" cried the big chief excitedly.

"That isn't his name, is it?" said Jem.

"No. Nonsense! Pakeha means white man. I was a pakeha once."

"Let me help him up," said Jem eagerly.

"My pakeha! My pakeha!" said the chief, as if putting in a personal
claim, and ready to resist Jem's interference.

The difficulty was ended by Don giving himself a shake, and slowly
rising.

"Jem! Where's Jem?"

"Here! All right, Mas' Don. We're in the canoe."

"Hah!" ejaculated Don; and he shuddered as if chilled. "Where are the
boats?"

"Miles away," said the tattooed Englishman. "But look here, I'm only on
board. This is Ngati's doing. I know nothing about you two."

"My pakeha! My pakeha!" cried the chief.

"Lookye here," cried Jem, speaking in the irritable fashion of those
just rescued from drowning; "if that there chief keeps on saying, `_My
pakeha_' at me in that there aggravating way, I shall hit him in the
mouth."

"Ah! You're rusty," said the tattooed Englishman. "Man always is when
he's been under water."

"I dunno what you mean by being rusty," said Jem snappishly. "What I
say is, leave a man alone."

"All right!" said the Englishman. "I'll let you alone. How's your
young mate?"

"My head aches dreadfully," said Don; "and there's a horrible pain at
the back of my neck."

"Oh, that'll soon go off, my lad. And now what are you going to do?"

"Do?" interrupted Jem. "Why, you don't mean to give us up, do you?"

"I don't mean to do anything or know anythi