he end
had come.

CHAPTER FIFTY ONE.

NGATI'S GOAL.

Just as in the case of a dream, a long space of time in the face of a
terrible danger seems to pass in what is really but a few moments. Don,
in an agony of apprehension, was struggling against the hands which held
him, when a deep voice whispered in his ear,--

"My pakeha."

"Ngati!"

Don caught the hands in his, and sat up slowly, while the chief awakened
Jem in the same manner, and with precisely the same result.

"Why, I thought it was Mike Bannock trying to smother me," grumbled Jem,
sitting up. "What's the matter?"

"I don't know, Jem. Ngati just woke me in the dark, and--Oh! Ngati!"

His hands trembled, and a curious feeling of excitement coursed through
his veins, as at that moment he felt the stock of a gun pressed into his
hands, Jem exclaiming the next moment as he too clasped a gun.

"But there arn't no powder and--Yes, there is."

Jem ceased speaking, for he had suddenly felt that there was a belt and
pouch attached to the gun-barrel, and without another word he slipped
the belt over his shoulder.

"What do you mean, Ngati?" whispered Don hastily.

"Go!" was the laconic reply; and in an instant the lad realised that the
Maori had partly comprehended his words that evening, had thought out
the full meaning, and then crept silently to the convicts' den, and
secured the arms.

Don rose excitedly to his feet.

"The time has come, Jem," he whispered.

"Yes, and I dursen't shout hooroar!"

Ngati was already outside, waiting in the starlight; and as Don stepped
out quickly with his heart beating and a sense of suffocation at the
throat, he could just make out that the Maori held the third musket, and
had also three spears under his arm.

He handed one of the latter to each, and then stood listening for a few
moments with his head bent in the direction of the convicts'
resting-place.

The steam jet hissed, and the vapour rose like a dim spectral form; the
water gurgled and splashed faintly, but there was no other sound, and,
going softly in the direction of the opening, Ngati led the way.

"We must leave it to him, Jem, and go where he takes us," whispered Don.

"Can't do better," whispered back Jem. "Wait just a moment till I get
this strap o' the gun over my shoulder. It's awkward to carry both gun
and spear."

"Wait till we get farther away, Jem."

_Crash_! A flash of fire, and a report which echoed like thunder from