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Chapter VI
Ron Makes a Decision

Gone!" Ronald Cameron's voice shook. "Jock, we're too late! Isbel and Hughie have gone!"

"Steady, lad!" The bushman spoke very quietly. "Let's get to the bottom of this."

"But Isbel promised she would stay here until I came back," almost moaned the boy.

"And how soon did you expect to get back?" asked Jock.

"In an hour," replied Ron.

"And you must have been away more than twelve. No, lad, don't think I'm blaming you," he added in answer to the reproachful look Ron threw him. "You couldn't help having to spend the night under yon bank any more than I could. I'm just trying to figure out why the lass isn't, here."

"Could the Hauhaus——?" began Ron, and stopped, shuddering at his own thought.

"Of one thing I'm certain," replied Jock slowly, "and that is that those murdering varmints have page 75not passed this way. I marked every inch of the path we came by. There was your trail and hers, and yours going back to the pool. No, lad, nary a Hauhau came along that path; so take comfort, Ronald my man, and set your wits to work. Do you know of any reason that would make your sister leave this place. Would she be afraid of the dark?"

Ron shook his head. "She was a little bit nervous, but she is as much at home in the dark as I am."

"Then," declared Jock, "she must have thought, poor lass, that evil had overtaken you, and made only to save the little lad she had with her. She would think to get away toward the road to look for any help that was coming her way. Though," he added, looking out at the almost impenetrable wall of bush that crowned the opposite bank, "if she could find her way through that, she would be as strong a bushman as Jock Abler himself!"

"There is a track——" commenced Ron, and then he cried suddenly: "I have it! Hughie would be sure to be wanting food, and Isbel would have to go looking for something for him in case he should start crying. And she would go toward 'The Poplars.' I remember telling her last night page 76that we would be safer in this direction than anywhere else, 'cause I didn't think the Hauhaus would double back on their own path."

"That's settled, then," Jock said, with a satisfied air. "No, lad, don't you get fashing yourself over the anxious time she's had—you weren't to blame. What we must do now is to set after her as quickly as we can. But for any sake get that food-bag open, and let us make a meal of sorts as we go!"

Ron hurriedly undid the bag, conscious for the first time that he also was ravenous. Eating as they went, they started to climb the rough papa steps.

When they were almost at the top Ron cried: "I was right. Jock! Isbel's gone toward 'The Poplars,'" and he pointed to the arrow that the girl had scratched on the clay.

"A thoughtful lassie!" was Jock's comment. "Let's push on, lad. These clothes grow no warmer by wear."

They pushed on, accordingly, with all the speed they could muster. Jock's clothing was indeed still very wet, but he scouted Ron's suggestion that he was suffering any discomfort.

"When we find the lass and your brother it will be time enough to think of Jock Abler's comfort!" he declared.

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They followed the track, Jock striding along behind Ron, who suddenly stopped abruptly and pointed to the ground. They were now well above the papa gorge, and in places the ground was moist. Before them, clearly imprinted on the ground, was the mark of a tiny shoe.

"Hughie must have wanted to walk some of the way," Ron remarked. "It's just what Hughie would do. Poor old Isbel!"

"Now are you satisfied that they were unhurt when they came by here?" asked Jock, and Ron nodded and hastened on.

The winding path led them at last to the creek. They crossed and ascended the hill, to see before them the ruins of the Johnstons' house.

Jock Abler's eyes grew hard and he muttered a curse as he looked at the heap of embering timbers.

"God knows what dark work was done here last night!" he exclaimed. "We'll have a look round before we go up to the road. Do you feel man enough for any bad sights we may come upon?"

Ron thought of Mrs Johnston, with whom he had been a great favourite; of her husband, known far and wide as having been a gallant leader in the Waikato wars; of their three little boys; and he gulped: "I'll come with you, if you don't mind, Jock."

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"Right!" said Jock briefly; and they crossed the paddock in silence.

The woodshed, the solitary building left standing, naturally drew them first. Jock, who saw into it first, muttered another curse; and behind him Ron set his teeth and prepared to face horror.

But the bushman was already on his knees beside the pitiful figure that lay on the floor. True to his promise, Tom Johnston had made a pillow of fern for his mother's head, and had brought her a pannikin of water; but of all this she had for some time been unconscious. The fearful nature of her wounds had told upon her, and she had fainted from weakness and loss of blood. Tom, at Jock's appearance, had been sitting by her head, vainly trying to revive her.

"Come in, Ron," said Jock, in a queer, hard voice, "and take the little lad outside while I look to this poor body's hurts."

Tom went gladly with Ron, who took him some distance away from the shed. And there they sat down on the grass, and Ron put his arm tenderly round Tom, who appeared to be too utterly stunned to speak, but gave vent, every now and then, to a little dry sob.

Presently Ron said gently: "Now, Tom, can you answer some questions?"

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The boy nodded.

"Where is your father—and Jim—and Dick?"

"Killed!" gasped the boy, and broke into bitter weeping.

Ron let him cry, realizing that anything would be better than those horrible dry sobs. The boy had been tried beyond his powers of endurance. Ron knew this, as he knew that he himself had a hard lump in his throat that would not be gulped away. He sat there, with his arm about Tom, gazing blankly at the angry ruins of the house; and it seemed to him that the stillness that lay over the paddocks and the bush beyond was made the more uncanny by reason of the embers that dropped every now and then from the smouldering timbers.

Then Jock came out of the shed, and there was a terrible light in his eyes. Ron came to know that look well in the months that came after; but just now it was utterly strange to him, and it frightened him.

"Is she——?" he was about to say "dead," but he remembered the weeping boy beside him, and could not finish the sentence.

"Not dead, thank God," said Jock reverently. "But the fiends have nearly accounted for her. Ron, lad, here is work to do."

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Ron stood up. "I'm ready, Jock. Give the word."

The bushman eyed him keenly. "You may have to pay a heavy price for it. I figure it out this way. That poor body in there is wounded nearly to death. She must be aided, and at once. Now, how? Here are we, searching for your sister, and we come on this—this——" Jock seemed to grope for words. "The question is, do we go on looking for your sister, or do we set about taking this poor body into Roro and save her life? Think over it well, lad!"

Ron looked at Jock, and then away at the bush. And the vision of the dauntless Isbel fighting her way with Hughie toward safety through country that might swarm with savage enemies came before his eyes, and he looked back at Jock again.

"I know, Ron," Jock said gently; "but think you work like this would have been put in our way if we were meant to do any other? In spite of the black work there has been here, I believe there is a God who keeps the feet of little children on safe paths, when He lets older and wiser folk stray to their destruction. Give me your mind, lad; time isn't standing still."

Meanwhile, Tom's sobs had ceased, and he was page 81following Jock's words earnestly. He got up and put his hand in Ron's.

"Isbel is quite safe, Ronald," he said. "She has gone to Roro to send help to Mother."

"What's that?" cried Ron sharply, and Tom repeated the information.

"When did you see her?" Jock inquired.

"This morning, early. And she said that she would go and send help as soon as she could."

"Hurrah!" cried Ron. "Then we will overtake her on the road, and save Mrs Johnston's life as well!"

He looked eagerly at Jock, and was crestfallen when the bushman shook his head gravely.

"If she was here early, she has got a good start of us; and as I said, there's work to do. We must make a stretcher. That will take an hour or two. We may overtake her, but then, again, we may not. You see, we can't dare to go quickly lest we cause that poor woman in the shed further suffering and maybe set her wounds bleeding again. Now, lad, what are we to do?"

Ron faced his problem manfully. His heart seemed torn in two, but at last he said: "I'll stay and help. I see you think it's the right thing, and I seem to know it is too. But, oh, Jock, just think of Isbel and Hughie if the Hauhaus——"

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He was weighed down with anxiety. But his mind was made up. Isbel, when last seen, was, at least, alive and well. On the other hand, Mrs Johnston would die unless she could be got away to Roro or Turanganui. He could not have her death on his conscience.

He and Jock shook hands silently.

All was bustle from that onward. Jock saw to it that Ron was kept busy, doubtless to keep his mind from uneasy speculations concerning Isbel and Hughie.

First of all under a big totara-tree a couch of fern was made for Mrs Johnston. She was carried out as tenderly as possible, and although she groaned a little, it was soon seen that the fresh air was reviving her in some measure.

Tom was despatched up to the brow of the hill to watch the road and give the alarm, should any enemies come prowling by. Meanwhile, Jock and Ron set about the manufacture of a stretcher.

Of tools to assist them in their labours they found none. The Hauhaus appeared to have stripped the place of anything they did not burn. But Ron discovered some nails, and under a pile of wood in the shed he lighted upon a bundle of strong sacks which Jock eyed with approval.

Jock's knife proved invaluable in cutting and page 83shaping the poles, and flax, deftly plaited by Ron, went to strengthening their handiwork. When the stretcher was completed they looked at it proudly.

"Now," said Jock, who, like a wise general, knew the value of enforcing rest on his little army, "in two hours we start."

"In two hours?" repeated Ron blankly. "Why not at once?"

"Because," replied Jock, "you had no sleep last night; nor did I. Nor did the little lad on the hill yonder. And it's a weary road to Roro, and if we are to get there before to-morrow morn we must keep up strength. Give Mistress Johnston some more water while I whistle the boy back and feed him. Then I will keep watch while you have a nap."

Ron tried to protest, but his words were quickly overruled. In truth, he was dog-tired. So it happened that, in spite of all he had been through, in spite of his anxiety concerning his sister and brother, he lay down beside Tom and slumbered as one dead until Jock roused him.

"But aren't you going to sleep while I watch?" he asked the bushman.

Jock smiled quaintly. "I can do with little sleep, lad. I smoked my pipe and dried out my page 84clothes, and I'm ready for the road. What about you?"

"I feel fine, thanks to you."

"Good! Now, to eat."

Between the three of them they finished what was left of their food.

Then Mrs Johnston was carefully laid upon the stretcher and covered over with their coats; and the two friends set off on their journey, Tom walking beside them.

They had, as Jock had foreseen, to go very carefully. The road was rough, and at the slightest jolt a little moan would escape their wounded burden. Nevertheless, in spite of the agony she was suffering, Mrs Johnston looked up at her rescuers gratefully from time to time, and once or twice she tried to smile at Tom.

The sun was setting when they came to the patch of bush through which Isbel had passed that morning, and just as darkness was beginning to fall they reached the whare that stood on the further side.

Here Jock called a halt for a few minutes. And here they found Isbel's message, which Jock carefully erased from the table before they quitted the place—"Just in case," he remarked, "any of those savages can read English."

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"Thank heaven, Isbel was safe so far, anyway," Ron said fervently.

"Do you know, young man, I'm beginning to entertain a mighty respect for that sister of yours!" Jock exclaimed. "She's got courage and brains, and Jock Abler, for one, is willing to bet anyone that she gets through safely."

Ron sighed. "But she must be having an awful time, wherever she is. She'd most likely have to carry Hughie most of the way—and what is she doing for food?"

"She did herself pretty well in that whare," replied Jock, smiling. "Did you not note the crumbs on the floor?"

They took up the stretcher again, and passed into the swamplands. At a point about half a mile beyond the whare Jock stopped and pointed.

"There's a short cut to Roro from hereabouts," he told Ron. "Just a way of my own that I have used sometimes—a patch of firm land running across the swamp. It's rough going, but two men, taking all care, might make it and cut an hour or so off their journey. Will you risk my guiding, lad?"

And Ron, his heart uplifted by the use of that word "men," vowed to himself, there and then, that he would follow Jock to the end of the world.