of strength are sometimes undermined and give way. It
was so here. They were about half-way across the river, whose white
foam gave them sufficient light to enable them to see their way, when,
just as Ngati came opposite to a huge block of lava, over which the
water poured in tremendous volume, he stepped down into a hole of great
depth, and, in spite of his vast strength and efforts to recover
himself, he was whirled here and there for a few moments by the power of
the fall.

Both Don and Jem stood firm, though having hard work to keep their
footing, and drew upon the spear-shaft, to which Ngati still held. But
all at once there was a sharp jerk, quite sufficient to disturb Don's
balance, and the next moment Ngati shot along a swift current of water,
that ran through a narrow trough-like channel, and Don and Jem followed.

Rushing water, a sensation of hot lead in the nostrils, a curious
strangling and choking, with the thundering of strange noises in the
ears. Next a confused feeling of being knocked about, turned over and
beaten down, and then Don felt that he was in swift shallow water
amongst stones.

He rose to his feet to find, as soon as he could get his breath
regularly, that he had still hold of the spear-shaft, and that he had
been swept down nearly to the sandy level, over which the river ran
before joining the sea.

A minute later and he was walking over the soft, dry sand, following
Ngati on the further shore, the great chief plodding on in and out among
bushes and trees as if nothing had happened. The shouting of those in
search was continued, but between them and the enemy the torrent ran,
with its waters roaring, thundering, and plashing as they leaped in and
out among the rocks toward the sea; and now that they were safely
across, Don felt hopeful that the Maoris would look upon the torrent as
impassable, and trust to their being still on the same side as the
_pah_.

As they trudged on, dripping and feeling bruised and sore, Jem found
opportunities for a word here and there.

"Thought I was going to be drownded after all, Mas' Don," he whispered.
"I knocked my head against a rock, and if it wasn't that my skull's made
o' the strongest stuff, it would ha' been broken."

"You had better not speak much, Jem," said Don softly.

"No, my lad; I won't. But what a ducking! All the time we were going
across, it ran just as if some one on the left was shoving hard. I
didn't know water could pus