Bundles of arrows and spears were carried into the bush and left there in hiding, so that if a warrior had thrown his last spear he had only to dodge into the tanglewood and come out terrible as before! At last the fighting began.
The natives once more urged Tamate to shoot.
“Come down and fight,” they shouted.
He left the women and children in the care of his boy, and hurried down to the village. He had no gun, no spears, no arrows. But he had no fear. He came straight up to the warriors and shouted: “Peace!”
Then the sharp twang of the bow-strings ceased, and the hiss of the spears and arrows came more seldom, till a hush fell over all.
Tamate asked one man after another to give up his arms. And they did. Kone was at his side, and whispered to him:
“Yonder is the Loloan chief.”
Tamate had met this chief before and had not been able to win his friendship. He must try again! He went to him, and somehow or other the next thing that happened was that he and the warrior chief were walking arm-in-arm to the tents. It sounds very funny to read about, but it was very serious that morning.
The Loloan chief promised to stop the fighting, and Tamate let him return to his men. But very soon some of the villagers came rushing up, shouting, “They will kill Kone! They will kill Kone!”
Tamate ran into the fight again. Many more Loloans had come. They danced wildly round in their war paint. Clubs and spears rattled and whizzed on every side. One blow fell on his head, another on his hand. An old friend drew him to the edge of the fight. The Loloan chief came to him.