'Yes; and it shows the value of any statement made by Te Karearea,' put in Terence. 'Now I have a piece of news,' he went on. 'I have discovered something very queer about Sounding Sea.'
'What is it?' George asked, interested at once.
'About the same time every night he sneaks past our hut—his own is almost opposite—towards the back of the pah. I followed him last night, and he climbed the fence and dropped down on the narrow ledge between the palisades and the edge of the precipice.'
'Go on,' urged George.
'I was close behind him; yet, when I looked over, he had disappeared. The ledge runs about fifteen feet on each side of the point where he scaled the fence, which touches the edge of the cliff at the angles. So, as he could not have gone round, he must have gone over.'
'And what are you going to do?'
'We will both follow him to-night after his visit.'
Under pretence that he had been detailed by Te Karearea to see to their comfort, Sounding Sea came to their hut at bed-time every night. This night was no exception, for his sly face peered round the door, and he inquired, humbly enough, if the Pakeha lords desired his services.
To throw him off his guard, George ordered him to bring a basket of food, as they proposed to go for an early ramble in the bush on the morrow. When the Maori returned with this, the friends were snoring on their mats; so he placed it in a corner and withdrew, satisfied.
Five minutes later Terence stole across to Sounding Sea's whare, and returned almost immediately. 'There,' he said, with a gleeful chuckle, and thrust a revolver and a handful of cartridges upon his astonished friend.