Lumi's Lagoon.

Auckland Star, Volume XXXIX, Issue 236, 2 October 1908, Page 6

Lumi's Lagoon.

By OWEN HALL

' CHAPTER Vni. —(Continued.) . When Bill awoke at last it was broad daylight, so he knew he must have been asleep a long while. He wasn't in the same hut, for this one was quite small, and the roof came so low down that he felt as if he could reach it with his hand. The first thing he thought of was what had become of mc, but when he tried to get up to look for mc he found that he I could hardly move at all. He must have | been only half awake not to have known it before" for his arms were lashed to his sides by lines that were passed round his i body, and his legs were fastened together at the knees. " Well, now," he said to himself, " this here's a bloomin' go, this ilk But what I'm sayin , of is, what's to become o' sonny? " He was still thinking about mc when a black fellow put his head between two of the mats that hung from the low eaves instead of a wall, ajid when he had looked at him for a minute without speaking went away. After a while four or five more came in, and, having seated themselves in a half-circle, began to sing. Bill said it weren't by no means the sort o' ! thing you'd like to pay for at the opera, but he didn't mind it much. He thinks they must have intended to frighten him, ! for when they found he only looked at them and laughed they jumped up and flourished their clubs over his head. At last they seemed to grow tired of that, j too, for they went away, and nobody came j near hini for hours. He must have fallen \ asleep again, for when he next remembers anything it was very nearly dark. Then he heard somebody come into the hut, and when he had sat up, lestiug against the pole in the middle, he saw it was Bob. He sat and looked at Bob. and Bob looked at him for a while wituout a word. It was Bob that spoke first after all. " This ain't nice, Bill Stokes, is it now?" he said, "an' the wust on it is you'll be thikin' it was mc as done it." Bill looked at him, but said nothing. " Well, then," he added, "it weren't none o' my doin', though I'll allow as 'taint nice." '' An' who were a-sayin' as it were, Bob Stringer ? " Bill asked. Bob cleared his throat. " Well, then," he went on, "' mayhap ye'd like to know whose doin' it is. It's them blasted niggurs, Bill. They're death on ye for breakin' the neck o' that black fellow Tama in the council hut—that's what it is." "Oh, that's what it is, Bob, is it? Well, then, come to that, I ain't a-blamin' of 'em either; that's fair, Bob, that is. But what about sonny? He ain't broke nobody's neck, he ain't." Bob looked at Bill for a minute, as if he couldn't make him out. " Well, he said at last, " I ain't a-sayin' but what ye're right there. Only them niggurs don't see tilings that way, Bill. If they kill you, 1 reckon they'll make short work o' the youngster, you bet. I shouldn't wonder but they'll eat him, too, for the matter o' that, bein' young and tender." Bill thought for a minute. Then Bob went on again: " I've done all 1 could, but that aint' not to say much. There's on'y one way as I can see to get around it, Bill." " Well, now, Bob, what might that be, now? For ye see I've got to get that : youngster safe ashore again—and don't you forget it, neither, Bob." " Well, it's this way, Bill. Them nigi gurs want to get rid o' that there Lurai." ' "Oh, they do,do they, Bob? Well, now, I ain't a-sayin' but what that might suit you middlin' well, too." " Oh, 'taint no odds to mc, that ain't, Bill. But them niggurs is death on it." '• Well, then, 1 ain't a-sayin' but what they could do the job easy enough. There were a lot o' fellows here a while back iwi' clubs as could do it slick." " No, Bill; 'taint lucky for one o' them to kill the chief." " Oh, I see, they wants it done by depity like. Well, now, I ain't a-sayin' as I'm surprised —not altogether, nei- j ther," Bill said. ' Bob bent nearer to Bill, and spoke low: " Now, if you'd knock the young devil on the head they'd be willing to let ye go, and that youngster, too, and, what's more, [ I'd put Y£ in the way of makin-' a fair landfall at the island where ye"d pick up a labour craft in no time." " And ye say the young chief's a bad un, Bob ? " Bill asked, thoughtfully. " A bad un ? I believe ye, BilL It was all I could do to keep him from spearing your youngster this morning, and 1 had to move you here to get you out of his way." Bill said nothing, but sat for a minute or two thinking, and Bob sat watching him. It was growing dark in the hut, and Ihe couldn't see much, but he watched Bill i with an eager look in his cruel eyes. At /last Bill moved, and when he spoke his voice was low and deep. " No ye don't, Bob Stringer," he said. " I ain't a-sayin , but what ye've got the weather gauge on us—sonny and me— this time; but it ain't no go. Clubbin' o' niggurs ain't just in my line—specially niggur boys, Bob, and don't you forget it." Bob had drawn back a little at the first sound of Bill's voice, and when he finished he rose to his feet. " Oh, very well, Bill Stokes," he snarlad, " don't blame mc. I've give ye yer chance, seeing as how we were old messmates, and 1 were sorry for ye. But 1 can tell ye that's all. I won't raise a finger to save ye —no, nor that youngster, neither. Lumi can settle him." He hissed the last words through his teeth as he left the hut. " All right, mate," Bill muttered to himself. '" Nor I ain't a-sayin' but what I might handle you pretty rough, Bob Stringer, if so be as I got the chance. Leastways, I'd try." Bob had gone, and nobody came in his place. Bill lay down again, and tried to think of something he could do to get away; but he could think of nothing. He had strained his hardest at the lines with which he was tied together, but though they stretched a little they held fast. At last he gave it up, and lay still. Hours j seemed to have passed. He had heard I voices near the hut, as if men were watchj ing there, and there was a red light that i seemed to come from fire outside, but though he was expecting it every minute nobody came into the hut. He was wondering what would happen in the morning, and dreamily watching the red glow that came more faintly into the hut, when he saw one of the mats that served the place of walls move. It was just as if the breeze had shaken it aside, but Bill had noticed there was no wind, so he knew it couldn't be that. He moved a little to see what it meant, but he made no sound. After a minute a shadow crept along the ground, and something touched him. Bill rolled over towards the side of the hut. Then there came a whisper: "Bill! " it said. "BUI! " White boy want Bill." BUI considered for a moment, them he whispered, "Well, now, I ain't a-sayin' bat what that's- Lami."

"Lumi: yes, Lumi here. White boy want Bill. Come! " " Right ye was, Lumi. You bear a hand and cast off them lashin's, and I ain't asayin' but what I'll come, neither. Bob Stringer says as ye're a bloody young savage; but you bear a hand now, and Bill Stokes ain't the sort to forget it." Nothing happened for a minute. Then Bill felt something touch his leg. Presently a whisper came: " Bill move leg." He did so, and found they were loose. Then a soft touch was laid on his arm, and after a minute or two the whisper came again, " Bill come! " Bill didn't try to rise, but he rolled over to the wall of matting at the spot from which the whispers had come. Now he could see under the mat. The embers of the dying fire were not ten yards away, and there were dark figures stretched on the ground beside it. Lumi was crouching close to the hut, with one hand raised, as if to warn him. " Bill come soon," he whispered. " Bill no make himself high." As he spoke he set the example by creeping away silently on his hands and knees. Bill crept under the mat and followed him. They crept for some distance without exchanging a word. Then Lumi stopped and listened. " Man come," he whispered. Bill could hear nothing for a minute or two, though he tried, but then suddenly he caught the sound of a soft, quick footstep following, and next moment a shadow came between him and the dim glow of the fire. A startled voice exclaimed " Aw-wa! " in a tone that was almost a shout. The cry had barely left his lips before it was stifuxl by the grip of Bill's great hand on the man's throat.

CHAPTER IX. LUMI COMES BACK. I had really touched something. When I looked up into Mauwi's eyes and saw how they glared at mc, 1 wasn't a bit surprised. 1 had done what nobody else had done in all that long time. I bad found the thing, whatever it was, that he had been guarding all these ages be had been standing there. If Mauwi had been anything but a stone it must have broken his heart. This was what came into my mind when I looked up first, but, of course, tbat was only for a minute. After all 1 hadn't done much yet. My fingers, groping about in that hole, had certainly touched something, and the feeling had run up my arm like the touch of an electric spark; but just at first I couldn't have told even myself what it was like. It was something hard; something that had c sharp corner. 1 had been able to feel as much as that about it; but that was all. Perhaps, after all, I might have been mistaken. My hand trembled as I felt a second time, and it was a real relief to find it there still. 1 was determined to make sure this time. I couldn't see it, of course, but at least I could feel what it was like. Yes, there was the sharp corner. I passed my fingers over it on every side as far as I could reach; it felt like a box. A box? If it was a box there must be something in it, for nobody would hide away an empty box like this. It couldn't be one of the pirates' treasures 1 bad read about; they were always in big sea chests. 1 was puzzled to find it so small; it wasn't a foot long, 1 felt sure, and perhnps half as wide. It was strange, but I couldn't move it at all, though I tried hard, and at last I bad to give it up. At any rate, we should find out when Lumi brought Bill. That thought brought back the question—What has become of them? Could anything have happened to Bill? I could hardly believe that, and yet I felt sure he wouldn't have left mc all this time alone if he could have helped it. v It all depends ou Bill," I said to myself, as I sat crouched together by that stone. Bill could lift it somehow, I knew, and he would tell Lumi and mc what to do. It seemed hours before there was a sign of daylight, but it came at last. The moonligbt'fadcd, little by little, aud the stars went out one by one—it was daylight at last. I was a little stiff, and my head was sore where it must have struck the stone, but that didn't seem to 'matter now. What I was anxious about was that Lumi should come back an«J 1 bring Bill. I hadn't been quite able to help it, after all; I had begun to grow j afraid tbat something had happened to Bill. I stood up and looked about mc. It [was only half light yet, but everything looked very light compared with what it had done before I fell asleep. Should 1 go back to the lagoon? I didn't like to go away from that stone, even for a little while; but, then, it had been there a long time, and, of course, it couldn't run away. I looked up at Mauwi's face, but it only looked grey and ugly now in the dim light. At any rate, 1 was sure he couldn't take it aw.ay; if he could he'd have fallen on mc when he looked so angry when 1 found the stone. No, it was all safe enough —only 1 must get Bill to help mc. 1 made my way through the scrub somehow. It was hard work sometimes, but not so hard as it had been when I forced my way in, and besides tbat it was cooler now. When 1 got to the top of the bank and looked down into the lagoon once more it seemed terribly lonely. There was not a sound, and there wasn't as much as a ripple on the face of the black water. I don't think I had really expected to see Lumi's canoe there, and yet somehow 1 felt disappointed. Oh, what could have become of them ? Once more, and without thinking why I did it, I put my hand to my mouth, and the black water and dark rocks below mc re-echoed the wailing notes of the long, shrill " Coo-ec! " as if they would never stop. At last they did grow quiet, however, and then—just as I was going to do it again, 1 believe, for the sake of company —a sound came back. 1 listened with all my might. Yes, it was meant for a Coo-ec, too, but it was the very funniest hoarse croak of a Coo-ec that ever was made. It was loud enough, i though, for it rose and swelled and was echoed back from side to side of the la- , goon like the roar of a hungry lion—it ; must be Bill. Nobody but Bill, I felt sure, : could have made a noise like that. It : wasn't one bit like a black fellow's Coo-ee. But, then, Bill wasn't one bit like a black fellow. I jumped and shouted, and then I Coo-eed again and again till the place rang as if a dozen people were shouting at once. I was shouting still when Lumi's : canoe shot past the point where it had disappeared the day before, and the first thing I heard distinctly was the sound of Bill's laugh. "Well, now, Sonny," he shouted, "1 aint a-eayin 3 but what ye can make yerself beard, not mc. S'pose ye •was to take a spell o' rest now I ain't to say sure but what ye may *o_t jer wind

yet, afoie all's done, atf don't yon forget it." "Bill," I shouted, "what kept you so long? I've wanted you bad." "Have ye then, Sonny? Well, I ain't a'sayin' as how I'd have objected, j'Taint been not much of a. holiday 'neither. But wheer's them coaky-mits? Blacky here's been tellin , mc there's heaps on 'em hereabouts, an' I ain't a-eayin' but what I could do wi' half a dozen or so neither." "There's thousands, Bill," I exclaimed breathlessly, as Bill sprang lightly to the beach. Lumi says they belong to Mauwi, but I had a lot, and Mauwi did nothing to mc." While I was speaking Bill had climbed the bank, and found himself face to face with Mauwi. For a moment or two he stood and stared. "Oh," he said with a la-ugh, "that's Mauwi, it is? Well, I ain't a-sayin' but what he's big neither; but he ain't what I'd call han'some, he ain't—not by chalks." "Yes, Bill," I exclaimed, delighted to see that Bill wasn't one bit frightened of Mauwi. "I've been quite close to him too, and Ive found something. 1 want you to help mc to get it, for I'm not strong enough myself." "Right ye was, Sonny. But what 1 says now is, wheer's them coacy-nuts? If so be as they belongs to this 'ere Mauwi, we'll borry a few beggin' of his pardon for the liberty; but nuts I means to have, an' don't you forget it." I showed Bill the way to the nuts, and I think he was as much astonished as I had been at the evidence that they had been let alone, perhaps for centuries. Then he picked one up and handed it to mc. "Now, look-ec here, Sonny," he said, "S'pose ye was to pass it along to that there Lumi chap. I ain't a-sayin' but what he's a real good sort for a blacky neither, an' don't you forget it." The canoe was floating a yard or two from the beach, and Lumi welcomed mc with a smile. He wouldn't touch the nut at first, but he was hungry, and when he had seen mc break and eat a bit of it without anything happening, he ventured to try it, and before 1 went back to Bill I saw that so far as the nuts were concerned, at any rate, Lumi had come to the conclusion that Mauwi wasn't after all so black as he had been painted. "Now, Sonny," Bill said when he had made a hearty meal, "let's 'aye a look at this 'ere find o' yours. I ain't a-sayin' but what it was middlin' good for a chap like you to go a-rummugin' round that bloomin' great image withe ugly riggurhead. You'll deserve about all as yer likely to get, and don't you forget it neither." We forced our way through the undergrowth till we stood beside Mauwi, and then I showed Bill the stone. He looked at it for a minute, and then at the figure that towered over our heads, glittering in the sunshine. "Well," he said, scratching his head thoughtfully, "I ain't a-sayin' but what it do seem a bit hard after all them years neither, old man; but ye see, after all, 'spose theer's nothin' iv this 'ecr hole ye won't lose nothing; an' 'spose theer's something, it's as like as not it'll be o' more use to Sonny here than it could a'been to you. So here goes, old un!" He stooped as he spoke, and getting his fingers under the edge of the stone, heaved with all his might. For a minute I wasn't sure that even Bill could do it. It made mc gasp to see the way his back and shoulders and arms swelled as if they would burst his loose jacket before anything moved. At last, just as I had begun to feel cold at the thought that perhaps Mauwi was going to beat Bill, it moved, it was only a hair's breadth at first. Then there was a creak. Then it opened wider and wider yet, till, with something between a gasp and a shout, Bill heaved it over, and it fell among the grass close to llauwi's feet. "Oh, Bill, it's here," was all 1 could say as my eyes rested on a little oblong box, dim and dirty, crusted over with something that looked uneven, and yet with clearly-cut corners and edges, and, as the rays of the sun fell on it after all those ages of darkness, giving back a faint yellow glow. Bill laid his great hand on the box and shook it. Then, stooping once more he wrenched it from the deep groove in the solid rock below into which it had evidently been carefully fitted. "Here ye are, Sonny," he said, as he handed it to mc, thecr should be something in it, for them as put it theer didn't mean as it should be blowed away, leastways not easy—an , don't you forget it." (To be continued dally.)