"War to the Knife;" or, Tangata MaoriBoldrewood, Rolf
General
"War to the Knife;" or, Tangata Maori
Boldrewood, Rolf
Māori (New Zealand people) -- Fiction; New Zealand -- Fiction
Erena arranged to abide with her friends or relations until the morrow.
The humbler natives asked leave of Warwick to bestow themselves in the
village, while the sullen Ngarara, who had of late remained among the
rank and file, announced his intention of coming for his pay in the
morning, and terminating his engagement there and then.
Warwick displayed no surprise at this announcement, but told him that
he might have his pay at once. This offer he accepted, and departed
with ill-concealed satisfaction.
"I am not sorry to get clear of him," he said; "he is a dangerous
brute, and for some reason has taken a dislike to both of us. I can see
it in his face. I had a hint, too, from one of the women not to trust
him."
"What earthly reason can he have? He has been treated fairly all the
way."
"It's hard to say. Maoris are like other people, good and bad. I hope
there will be no war-scare till we get to Auckland, at any rate. He
might take the occasion to do you a bad turn; so it will be well to be
on your guard."
"Perhaps he will get as good as he brings," said Massinger, with the
careless confidence of youth. "I shall keep my powder dry, at any rate."
It was late before the two men separated for the night. Warwick was led
into legendary lore, of which he had a prodigious quantity. He told so
many tales of battle, murder, and sudden death, that the Englishman
dreamed of cannibal feasts, sieges, and pitched battles, with all
manner of disquieting incidents, so that the sun had risen when he
awakened after a broken night's rest.
His attendants were already in waiting, and before he had finished
breakfast Erena arrived, looking fresh and animated. She had made some
slight alteration in her dress, and had placed some of the beautiful
feathers of the _huia_ in her hair. Altogether, there was a change in
her mien, a sparkle in her expressive eyes, a lightness in her step, an
added tone of cheerfulness, which Massinger could hardly account for.
He could not avoid remarking upon it. "You are surely not pleased at
our parting, Erena?" he said. "Warwick and I must start for Auckland
almost at once."
"So soon?" she said. "I hoped you might find something to interest
you here for a few days. There's nothing so beautiful as Te Terata or
Rotomahana; still, there are strange things here too."
"It must all depend upon our news of the war. It would be unwise to
linger here after real fighting has commenced."
"I would not have you do it for the world," said she. "But I have a
reason for not wishing you to return before Monday which I cannot tell
you now. You will trust me, will you not?"
The girl's deep eyes seemed to glow with unusual lustre as she made
this appeal, stretching forth her hands pleadingly, while her lip
quivered as she looked at him with a wistful expression he had never
noticed before.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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