Page:The Toll of the Bush.pdf/22

‘If one had a place like this now,’ said Geoffrey, reining in his horse, ‘it might be possible to do something. It seems to me that the only land worth having in this north country is in the hands of the natives.’

‘They were here first, I suppose?’ Robert said.

‘Yes, that is a good argument so far as it goes, but meantime the white men are sitting round on the hills eating grass, and the country is at a standstill. If this sort of thing were happening just outside Wellington, it would not be tolerated for longer than was necessary for the framing of an Act to put an end to it, but the justice of the case is not affected by the fact that we are a long way from the seat of government and unable to make ourselves heard.’

‘The rails will be better in the long run,’ Robert said, reverting to the original subject of discussion, ‘There’s plenty of good timber, and it’s only just the difference of a month or so in getting it out. Of course, if you’re set on doing the fencing right off there is no trouble about it—Major Milward will give us all the credit we want, and—there is Uncle Geoffrey.’

Geoffrey’s brows contracted and he shifted his seat in the saddle. ‘We will get out the rails,’ he said shortly.

At the foot of the hill the ground became unexpectedly solid, and the horses, pricking up their ears, scampered gleefully forward.

‘Shall we see about the ploughing?’ Robert shouted, as they galloped round the bend by the schoolhouse, and came abreast of a low Maori whare.