Into the River Read Free Page A

and charged off through the trees, dodging creepers and leaping over rotting trunks. They ran and ran until their lungs burned and they could go no farther. When Te Arepa dropped to the bed of leaves that littered the forest floor, Wiremu threw himself down beside him, so close he was almost touching.
    “What was it?”
    “An old, old man, wearing white clothes.”
    “True?”
    “And he was angry. He had this look, eh?”
    “What look?”
    “Like this.” He gave Wiremu a fierce stare
    “Eeee, I knew it was dumb to go there. Let’s go home now. I’ve had enough of this. It’s boring.”
    Te Arepa longed to return for one fleeting look. But it was no good. Without Wiremu, he couldn’t do it. This would be a mystery that would itch away at him like a mosquito bite on the toe.
    Back at the clear pool not a word was exchanged. They both dived deep and surfaced only to dive again, trying for the very bottom. The water was still stingingly cold. Perfect to calm their electric skin. To wash away the fear.
    Five minutes later they were out again: it was way too cold. They stretched out on the big rock to dry off before putting their clothes back on. The sun was strong now and beat down on their backs.
    “Good chance to tan our white arses,” said Wiremu.
    “Yours is pretty brown already.”
    “It’s just my colour, eh? You must have some Pakeha in you.”
    “Yeah, course. Santos, eh. Not a Maori name. That’s where I get the white arse from. And the green eyes.”
    “Is that the Diego guy?”
    Te Arepa nodded.
    “My grandma says he was a horny dude, a fence jumper. Heseems to have got into everyone’s whakapapa.”
    “True. Ra says there was a big shortage of men after the wars, and Diego was a keen fulla. Lady killer.”
    “He killed ladies?”
    “No you dumb Maori, it’s just a saying. It’s like he was a stud.”
    “Ahh.”
    They lay there for a while, thinking it all through, mellowed by the sun’s heat beating down and the rock’s warmth seeping up. After a while they had to jump back in to cool off. It was a cycle that repeated itself several times before Wiremu finally began to put his clothes on and made to head back.
    “Hey! What about the eel?”
    Te Arepa had forgotten all about it and hurried into his clothes.
    Wiremu got there first and called out. “It’s gone! It’s gone!”
    It was true. The line had gone. Snapped. All that was left was the bit of broom handle and the log that it had been wrapped around.
    “Great idea leaving it, Wiremu! Now I’ve lost Ra’s eel line. He’s had it for years. He’ll be giving me a kick.”
    He unwound the handle and the remainder of the string and they started back along the river. Something had gone from their adventure. Instead of returning full of the stories of discovery and conquest it was all clouded by the loss of Ra’s line. Te Arepa hadn’t even asked to borrow it.
    They made their way gloomily along the bank, not talking now: somehow there had been enough talk. When they got to the final bend, the river bed became mud and was covered in weed. They hadn’t noticed it on the way in. It swayed gently in the current like long, green hair. They were standing on the bank, staring at it without comment, when Wiremu pointed.
    “What’s that?”
    There was one strand longer than the others. The recognitioncame to them both at the same time.
    “The line!”
    It seemed to come from the thick grass growing from the bank.
    “It might have an eel on the end!” said Wiremu. “It might be the big one. That taniwha eel.”
    The thought had already occurred to Te Arepa. He was thinking about how he was going to get the end of the line without going in the water. He had had enough brushes with monsters today and just wanted to retrieve Ra’s property and go home.
    Farther on there was a stand of scrappy manuka, some of their long, thin trunks almost silver. Sure enough, there was one that snapped off at ground level, giving Te Arepa nearly four