A sudden, inexplicable impulse swayed George.
'Stay, O Hawk of the Mountain,' he said, and all appearance of anger left him. 'For a moon past you have kept us here by means of a trick. You caught us in a trap of our own making. Now shall there be no more tricks, and, lest you go away again in the night, leaving us fast here, I tell you to your face—you yourself and none other—we take back our word.'
For once in his life Te Karearea had received a setback. His usual coolness deserted him, and his ready tongue tripped as he asked if he had heard aright.
'Does this mean that you will try to escape, Hortoni?' he inquired, when both George and Terence had repeated their decision. He moved backwards towards the door as if he feared an immediate attack.
'Why not?' George answered coolly. 'We have told you that we do not wish to stay here, yet you will not let us go. Now we will go whether you will allow us or not.'
But Te Karearea had recovered his equanimity. 'When?' he inquired, with an air of great simplicity.
George laughed. 'It is enough for you to know that we will go.'
'When the gates of Reinga are shut, why seek to open them, Hortoni? Take time to think,' suggested the chief.
'It is time to act,' retorted George, and Terence, informed of his friend's sudden resolution, nodded assent.
Te Karearea was puzzled. Sly and designing himself, he could appreciate straightforwardness in others; yet he could not believe that his captives would have taken such a stand unless there was something underlying their conduct of which he was ignorant. Meantime, confident of his ability to prevent their escape, he temporised.