In the Land of the Long White Cloud

to Haldon. This was a detour, but his employer, Ruben O’Keefe, had charged him with dropping off a few letters in Haldon and having a look at a farm in the area.
    “But without drawing attention to yourself, McDunn, please! If my father figures out that my mother is in contact with me, she’ll be in a world of trouble. My wife thinks the risk is too great, but I have an uneasy feeling…I can’t really believe that the farm is suddenly flourishing as my mother claims. It will probably be enough for you to ask around a bit in Haldon. Everyone knows everyone in that village, and the general store owner is very chatty.”
    McDunn had nodded amiably and, laughing, commented that he’d practice a tricky interrogation technique he knew. In the future, he thought happily, he might have need of it. This was his last trip as a driver for the O’Keefes. The population of Queenstown had recently elected him to police constable. Leonard McDunn, a quiet, squarely built man of about fifty, appreciated the honor and the sedentary nature of the position. He’d been driving for the O’Keefes for four years now, and that was enough.
    At the moment, he was quite enjoying his trip to Christchurch, thanks to the pleasant company that had been sent along with him. On the coach box next to him sat Laurie to his right and Mary to his left—or vice versa; there was still no way he could tell the twins apart from each other, even now. Neither of them seemed to care though. One talked to him as cheerfully as the other, asking questions, always hungry to know more, and both gazed over the landscape with the same childlike curiosity. He knew that Mary and Laurie did invaluable work as purchasing agents and salesgirls for the O’Kay warehouse. They were polite and well-bred and could even read and write. Their disposition, however, was simple; they were easily influenced and easy to please but could slip into a state of prolonged moodiness if they were approached the wrong way. That rarely happened, though; usually they were both in high spirits.
    “Shouldn’t we stop soon, Mr. McDunn?” Mary asked blithely.
    “We did some shopping for a picnic, Mr. McDunn! We even got grilled chicken legs from that Chinese business in Christchurch,” twittered Laurie.
    “It is chicken, isn’t it, Mr. McDunn? Not dog? In the hotel they said people eat dog meat in China.”
    “Could you imagine someone eating Gracie, Mr. McDunn?”
    McDunn smiled widely, his mouth watering. Mr. Lin, the Chinese man in Christchurch, would never pawn dog legs off as chicken.
    “Sheepdogs like Gracie are far too valuable to eat,” he said. “What else do you have in your baskets? You went to the baker’s too, didn’t you?”
    “Oh yes, we visited Rosemary. Just imagine, Mr. McDunn, she came over to New Zealand on the same ship as us!”
    “And now she’s married to the baker in Christchurch. Isn’t that exciting?”
    McDunn did not think marrying a baker in Christchurch all that thrilling, but kept his thoughts to himself. Instead, he looked for a good spot to take a break. They were in no hurry. If he found an inviting place, he could leave the horses to eat and relax for a couple of hours.
    But then something remarkable happened. The road made a hairpin turn, revealing a view of a small lake—and some sort of blockade. Someone had laid a tree trunk clear over the road, and it was being guarded by several Maori warriors. The men looked martial and fearsome. Their faces were completely covered with tattoos and war paint, their upper bodies were naked and gleaming, and they wore a sort of loincloth that ended just below the knees. They were armed with spears, which they now raised threateningly to Leonard.
    “Crawl into the back, girls!” he called to Mary and Laurie, trying not to scare them.
    Finally, he stopped.
    “What you want on Kiward Station?” one of the Maori warriors asked menacingly.
    Leonard shrugged. “Isn’t this the way to Haldon? I’m on my way with wares for Queenstown.”
    “You lie!” the warrior exclaimed. “This way to Kiward Station, not to Wakatipu. You food for Wardens!”
    Leonard rolled his eyes and exercised calm.
    “I am most certainly not food for the Wardens, whoever they are. I don’t even have a load of groceries, just women’s clothing.”
    “Women’s…?” The warrior frowned. “You show!”
    In one quick motion, he sprang up onto the coach box and ripped open the cover. Mary and Laurie screeched in