on, there arn't many
chaps in Bristol as could have failed down like that without breaking
theirselves, is there?"

"I think it's wonderful, Jem."

"That's what I think, Mas' Don, and I'm as proud of it as can be. Here,
step out, sir; works is beginning to go better every minute. Tidy
stiff; but, I say, Mas' Don, I don't believe I'm even cracked."

"I am glad, Jem," cried Don. "I felt a little while ago as if I would
rather it had been me."

"Did you, though, Mas' Don? Well, that's kind of you, that it is. I do
like that. Come along. Don't you be afraid. I can walk as fast as you
can. Never fear! Think we shall be in time?"

"I don't know, Jem. I was in such trouble about you that I had almost
forgotten the people at the village."

"So had I. Pain always makes me forget everything, 'speshly toothache.
Why, that's the right way," he cried, as they turned the corner of a
steep bluff.

"Yes, and in a quarter of an hour we can be there; that is, if you can
walk fast?"

"I can walk fast, my lad: look. But what's quarter of a hour? I got
muddled enough over the bells board ship--three bells, and four bells,
and the rest of it; but out here there don't seem to be no time at all.
Wonder how near those fellows are as we see. I am glad I arn't broke."

In about the time Don had said, they came to the path leading to the
ravine, where the cave pierced the mountain side. A few minutes later
they were by the hot bath spring, and directly after, to Don's great
delight, they came upon Tomati.

"I was coming to look for you two," he said. "You had better not go far
from the _whare_. Two of the tribes have turned savage, and are talking
about war."

Don interrupted him, and told him what they had seen.

"So soon!" he said hurriedly.

"Is it bad news, then?" asked Don, anxiously.

"Bad, my lads! Bad as it can be."

"Then that was a war-party we saw?"

"Yes; come on."

He then put his hands to his mouth and uttered a wildly savage yell,
whose effect was instantaneous. It was answered in all directions, and
followed by a shrieking and wailing chorus from the women and children,
who came trooping out of their huts, laden with household treasures, and
hurrying up one particular path at the back of the village, one which
neither Don nor Jem had intruded upon, from the belief that it led to
some temple or place connected with the Maoris' religion.

A few minutes before the men were idling about, lyin