The old Maori shook his head and showed his toothless gums. 'Nay; he is not here, Hortoni. He is gone to fight the Pakeha.'
'Gone to fight the Pakeha!' echoed George. He looked down again. A band of armed Maoris had issued from the bush and were crossing the river bridge. 'Is that the Hawk returning?' he asked. 'Wake up, old man!' He gently shook the ancient. 'Is it the Hawk who flies hither?'
The old fellow blinked drowsily in the warm sun. 'Nay; Te Karearea is gone to drive the Pakeha into Moana. Who knows when he will return? Let me slumber, Hortoni.'
George wheeled round upon Terence. 'The crafty rascal!' he cried wrathfully. 'I see it all now. It was the noise of his departure that you heard in the night, Terence. Well might he scheme that we should bind ourselves fast with our own words. Oh, if you had but woke me! But now we have promised, and——' He shook his fist in the direction of the bush. 'Terence, we have been properly fooled. We are caught in a trap of our own making.'
'A parole extorted by such a piece of treachery can hardly be considered binding,' objected Terence.
'Oh, we will keep our word, if only to shame him, if that were possible. But let the subtle Hawk look out for himself when we do take back our parole.'
'And may I be there to see,' finished Terence, taking his friend's arm. 'Let us go to meet those people and learn the news.'
CHAPTER XVIII
PAEROA AT LAST
As the comrades encountered the returning warriors, who had been left as a garrison, their leader, a young chief named Rolling Thunder, called out: 'Salutations, Hortoni! The Pakeha Eagle takes an early flight; but he is too late to catch the Hawk, who has gone to flesh his beak and talons.'