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Rifle and Tomahawk

Chapter XVII — The Escape from Ngatapa

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Chapter XVII
The Escape from Ngatapa

Ron was stunned. He could not speak. He sought for words, but they would not come. Isbel too was mute. As for Hori, he stood still for a few seconds, apparently wrapped in thought.

Then abruptly he spoke. "I heard to-night that the rope was to be taken away. It is needed elsewhere. But I did not expect that it would be so soon."

''Can't we find another rope?" asked Isbel. "Surely there will be plenty within the pa?"

"Any ropes there are will be away over on the other side," answered Hori. "I will get one, but it will take some time—and there is not much time to spare before daylight comes upon us. See, I have thought it over. The sister of my friend must go back to her place among the sleeping women. You, Roni, must lie concealed until perhaps to-morrow night. It is the only way. The getting of a rope may take hours; I may have to watch my chance of stealing one, page 224and then there is the matter of hiding it until I can manage to fasten it to the top of the cliff."

"I will have to tell Jock what has happened," said Ron.

Hori agreed. "While yon speak to him I will take the sister of my friend back into the pa."

Isbel, brave girl that she was, bade her brother adieu without a tremor in her voice. Then she obediently followed Hori back to captivity.

Ron leaned over the cliff and whistled. "Jock," he called, "can you hear me?"

"That I can," responded his friend.

"Somebody took the rope away while we were waiting for Isbel. We will have to stay in the pa until Hori can find another. Will you wait for us?"

"Until the world's end!" declared Jock emphatically.

"We mightn't be able to get out until to-morrow night. How will you manage for food?"

"Don't you worry about Jock Abler, lad!" was the response. "If the worst comes to the worst, there's always a bit of fern-root to be had. I'll stay about the ledge here, and you've only to whistle and I'll stand ready to catch the lassie page 225as she comes down. Don't say any more just now—you never know but you might be overheard."

Accordingly Ron said no more. But his thoughts were racing. Poor old Isbel, he thought, to have had her freedom snatched from her, just as she was about to taste its sweetness! His own position was bad enough, too, but he thanked his lucky star that Hori had brought him the materials wherewith to disguise himself. Otherwise he would not have stood a chance for life in the pa of Ngatapa. As it was, he had a chance—just the hope that his disguise might save him.

"But blue-eyed Maoris aren't so common that I won't be questioned if anyone should spot me!" he reflected ruefully. "Anyway, Hori will know what it is best for me to do."

He squatted in the scrub until he heard Hori returning.

"What news?" he asked.

"No one discovered that the sister of my friend was missing," Hori told him. "She is back with the women now. Do not worry about her—she is quite safe, and will be so long as Te Kapu is not killed. Now, Roni, I have thought what you must do."

"And what is that, Hori? I will do anything you advise."

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"I want you to go along the cliff toward the trench that Ropata Waha Waha and his warriors took from the Hauhaus. In that direction lie some dead men, warriors who were wounded in the fighting and dragged themselves off into the scrub to die. Lie down among them, and try to appear as one dead. No one will come near you—at least, I think not; but if anyone should discover that you are not of the killed, you must kill him swiftly, at once. Do you understand?"

Ron nodded.

"It will be a hard thing for you to do, my brother," said Hori, sighing. "To lie, perhaps all day, among Te Kooti's carrion. But upon it depends your safety, and that of your sister. Your friend will await us on the ledge?"

"He promised that he would stay there until we were safely down beside him," replied Ron.

"Farewell, then," said Hori. "I will go and see whether I can find a rope. Look, the dawn comes!"

Ron looked, and saw the first grey light of day beginning to steal into the sky. He turned and stole through the scrub toward the place to which Hori had directed him.

He found the dead men of whom Hori had spoken. They lay in all sorts of attitudes, and page 227were no pretty sight. Nevertheless, conquering his aversion to lying beside them, Ron threw himself down, face to ground, his arms extended.

"I wonder if I look dead enough?" he thought. Then he remembered that the soles of his feet were not stained, and hastily thrust them out of sight under a bush.

And now the sun was beginning to send up beams of red and gold, and the day was coming in. What would it bring for Isbel and himself—release or death? Isbel's fate depended upon the safety of Te Kapu, his own on whether anyone would discover him. It seemed to Ron, in that moment, that both their lives hung literally by a hair.

A terrific din, away on the right of the plateau, made him long to look up. But he dared not; he lay there still as the dead themselves, and endeavoured to piece together what was happening.

"They are making another assault on the pa!" he said to himself excitedly. "That's the Ngatiporou war-cry! Oh, bravo, Ropata!"

The tumult went on for over an hour. Ron could visualize the whole scene: the desperate hand-to-hand fighting and the wild faces of the combatants as they thrust and hacked and struggled. What would he not give at that moment to be in it all?

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Suddenly a voice almost beside him said "Roni!"

"Roni," said Hori's voice again, "be ready. I have fixed a rope where the other was. The sister of my friend is ready—I told her to edge her way over toward the cliff. There is a big fight going on down at the palisade, and many of the women are going down to urge on their menfolk. I think she will be able to get away unnoticed. Do you commence crawling, as though wounded, toward the rope. When you get there hide yourself in the scrub, and wait for your sister!"

When Ron cautiously raised his head Hori had already disappeared.

The boy commenced crawling along, keeping in cover as much as he was able. The journey seemed endless; but at last, with a little gasp of thankfulness, he came to the rope and threw himself down in the scrub. When his breath came back he leaned over the cliff and whistled softly for Jock.

Almost at the moment that he heard the answering signal, satisfying him that Jock was at his post, he saw Isbel come running swiftly toward the cliff.

He sprang up and caught her. "Steady, Miss Muffet!" he breathed. "Where's Hori?"

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"Somewhere behind me!" gasped Isbel. "Oh, Ron, be quick! Where's the rope?"

"Just here," said Ron. "Now, Isbel, do you think you can go down without falling?"

"Of course I can!" answered Isbel promptly. "I was always good at climbing. Don't worry about me, Ron. I'll manage all right. I only want to get out of this dreadful place!"

"Then over you go! Jock is waiting for you on the ledge. Ask him to whistle when you get there, and I'll be down in a jiffy!"

He held Isbel firmly until he was satisfied that she had a firm hold of the rope. Then he released her, silently praying that all might go well. At that moment Hori appeared.

"Get over as soon as you can, Roni!" he commanded. "They are even now searching for the sister of my friend. Te Kapu has been slain at the palisade!"

"I'm waiting for Jock to signal," explained Ron.

"The rope will hold two, Quick, the Hauhaus come!"

Without further ado Ron swung himself over the edge. Scratched by the branches, torn by the sharp edges of the rock, he went down the rope pell-mell, only a few feet behind Isbel.

At last he heard Jock cry: "I've got the lassie, page 230Ron. You're safe, Miss Isbel!" An instant later he felt the rope give, and he was flung on to the ledge. Only the fact that Jock helped to break his fall saved him from rolling off, and falling down the rest of the precipice.

"Somebody cut the rope!" he heard Jock exclaim, as he picked himself up. "Quick, lad, to the ladder!"

But ere they could reach it, a spatter of bullets came down the cliff. The Hauhaus were firing into the tunnel!

"Get along the ledge, Jock!" cried Ron. "See, where the bank's overhanging. Bullets can't reach us there!"

With Isbel between them they scrambled along the uneven surface, and crouched beneath the overhanging rocks.

A perfect hail of bullets was coming down the cliff by now. The fugitives could hear yells of rage and disappointment from the savages on the cliff-top.

"Yon was a narrow squeak," remarked Jock philosophically. "But we seem to have given the murdering fiends the slip. My, don't they seem angry about it?"

They did indeed seem angry. Isbel shuddered as she heard the threats that were hurled down by the Hauhaus.

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Suddenly the firing ceased, and the voices above them died away.

"What's up now?" inquired Ron.

"Nothing that would induce me to put my head out of shelter," replied Jock. "See!" He put his cap on the barrel of his rifle, and held it out toward the entrance of the tunnel. Instantly a shower of bullets descended, and when the bushman examined the cap, it was to find it perforated in two places.

"Nothing doing, you varmints!" he called quaintly, and a yell of rage answered him from the cliff-top.

"Whatever will we do?" asked Isbel. "We can't stay on this ledge for always!"

"We'll have to stay for the present, at any rate," declared Jock. "Don't worry, lassie—we're quite safe here. The Hauhaus can't get at us, unless we venture into the open."

"Suppose they were to come down after us?" shuddered the girl.

"They could only come one at a time, and Ron and I could account for them as they arrived," replied Jock.

"Look out!" cried Ron suddenly. As he spoke a great boulder crashed down through the trees above them, and fell past the ledge into the creek page 232with the noise of a thunderbolt. Another followed, and the Hauhaus also sent down a few bullets.

"Just by way of making sure of us!" Jock remarked, with a grin. His cheery optimism had its effect on Isbel, who laughed in spite of the terrors she was undergoing.

The day wore on, and the three on the ledge began to endure many discomforts. Not the least of these was the torment of thirst. There, below them, gurgled the creek. The sound of running water was continually in their ears, yet they could obtain not one drop of the precious liquid. Had it not been for the overhanging branches of the tree above them, they must have been in even greater distress, for by midday the sun was so strong that they felt they could scarcely breathe.

Time and time again Jock thrust forth his cap, always to have it shot at. The Hauhaus had not relaxed their vigilance. In spite of her suffering from lack of water Isbel fell asleep early in the afternoon.

"Poor old Miss Muffet!" said Ron pityingly, as he pillowed her head on his arm. "She had no sleep last night."

"She's a wonder to have kept up so long," answered Jock.

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"What on earth are we going to do, Jock?" asked Ron. "Do you think there's any chance of our ever getting off this ledge?"

"I've been thinking of that," answered the bushman. "We might risk getting into the tunnel after dark, but it will be a weary wait for your sister, poor lassie. Ron lad, will you take a chance?"

"Rather! What have you thought of, Jock?" responded Ron.

"I've been thinking that that supplejack vine over yonder might be strong enough to swing you down the rest of the cliff. It wouldn't hold me, that's certain. But it might support you, and if you could get down by it and manage somehow to get hold of a rope, I could draw it up and fasten it so that the lassie could be got down. I've noted that bullets can't reach it—it's sheltered by the overhanging rocks."

"Why on earth didn't I think of that myself?" cried Ron. "Of course I'll try it, at once. Here goes!"

He laid Isbel's head tenderly on the coat which Jock rolled up for the purpose of a pillow.

The supplejack depended from the branches of a stout tree that grew on the extreme edge of the ledge, away from the tunnel. That it would not page 234reach the entire distance down the cliff Ron thought highly probable. But by its aid he might manage to reach a point whence the rest of the descent would be possible.

"Put all your weight on it, Jock," he said, and, grasping the stout vine, he lowered himself over the cliff.

As he had thought, the supplejack carried him only half the way; but it brought him to a place where he could at least obtain foothold. Looking down, he saw, about twenty feet below him, a tree growing out of the cliff. Between him and that there was nothing but bare rock.

Ron made up his mind rapidly. He commenced drawing the flax strings out of his piu-piu and knotting them together. When he had contrived a line which he considered would be long and strong enough for his purpose he took off one of his cartridge-belts and fastened it on to one end. The other end of the line he affixed to the supplejack. Then he let the cartridge-belt, heavy with bullets, slide down the cliff. "Now for it!" muttered Ron, setting his teeth. He jumped for the tree below him, and caught at one of its boughs. Fortunately the branch, although a comparatively slender one, held, and Ron swung his way along it, until he was on the cliff page 235again. From here, downward, the descent was easy.

Twenty minutes later he burst into the Rangers' camp, as wild a figure as any Hauhau. His tongue fairly tripped over itself with eagerness as he told Captain Barry the state of affairs back on the ledge.

The leader of the Rangers acted promptly. Three men, one of whom was Evans, were instantly detailed to accompany Ron down the gully. They paused only long enough to snatch up a length of strong rope, knotted at intervals. Then they dashed after Ron.

As he led the way Ron noticed that smoke was drifting up along the foot of the mountain. "Now, where is that coming from?" he wondered.

He pushed on rapidly, guiding the Rangers. Thicker and thicker became the clouds of smoke, denser the atmosphere. And now he could hear the cracking of bushes and the snapping of twigs in the dense heat of a forest conflagration.

Suddenly Ron stopped, and a cry of horror escaped him. As his companions came up with him he pointed to the cliff, which now, for the first time since leaving the Rangers' camp, was in full view.

The cliff above the ledge whereon Jock and Isbel were crouching was on fire from end to end!

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There was no time to be lost. Ron could see Jock leaning over Isbel, endeavouring to shield her from the embers and blazing branches which fell from above them. The Hauhaus were still firing toward the entrance to the tunnel, so no way of escape lay in that direction.

The boy dashed toward the cartridge-belt that he knew lay on the creek-bank below the tree into whose kindly branches he had cast himself when coming down the cliff. Ah, there it was, still attached to the line he had contrived from the strings of his piu-piu! He snatched it up.

"Quick, Evans, the rope!" he screamed, and Evans and the two Rangers had it beside him in a second. To remove the cartridge-belt and to fasten the rope to the flax in its stead was the work of another instant, and then Ron shouted: "Haul away, Jock!"

Jock obeyed. In an agony of apprehension Ron watched the rope going upward, at what seemed to him to be a mere snail's pace. The roar of the fire sounded nearer, and the hot breath of the flames fanned Ron's face. What must it be like up on the ledge? Would Jock be able to get Isbel off the narrow platform and then come down himself before the flames were upon him?

Then came a shout from Jock, and Ron knew page break
Jock Came Crashing Down the Cliff

Jock Came Crashing Down the Cliff

page 237that Isbel must be coming down. He could see nothing of what was happening above, for neither he nor his companions dared venture out from directly under the base of the cliff. The Hauhaus had detected their presence, and were maintaining a raking fire over the gully.

"Stand ready!" cried Evans suddenly; and a moment after Ronald Cameron thanked heaven as he clasped his sister in his arms.

"Here comes Abler!" somebody shouted. Jock came crashing down the cliff with such speed that he must have had a severe fall at the foot of it, had not Evans and the other men caught him. His face was drawn with suffering. Nearly all his hair was burned away; but it was the same old Jock who, as soon as he had recovered himself, turned to Ron and remarked: "Well, lad, Te Kooti and his friends haven't got Jock Abler yet!"

Ron held out his hands to him wordlessly. But Jock merely spread out his palms for Ron to see. And Ron cried out sharply. Jock's hands were burned almost to the bone.