With another timid look above and around, Te Kaihuia whispered again with thrilling emphasis: 'It was made by Tumatauenga, the god of war, and he bestowed it upon Te Turi.'
'Ah! then I am not surprised you set such store by it,' said George, careful to suppress the smile which would have hurt the old man's feelings. 'Such a beautiful piece of work deserves to have a romantic history.'
But he was destined to be surprised after all, for the aged Maori, balancing the club in his worn hands, said impressively: 'You, too, must set great store by it, Hortoni, for it is the gift of a god, and has marvellous powers. O brave young friend, who thought the remnant of an old man's life worth the risk of your own, stretch forth your hand and receive this gift from me. Treasure it, my son, for it is yours.'
'Mine!' echoed George, supremely astonished. 'Mine! Oh no, Te Kaihuia, this must not be. I will not take so valuable an heirloom from you.'
'It is mine to give,' persisted the hoary chief. 'Descendants I have none. There is but my sister's son, Te Karearea, and rather than that he should inherit it, I would fling it into the sea. And this I swear I will do, Hortoni, if you take not the mere as a gift.' He gently pressed the club upon George, who took it with the greatest reluctance.
'Hearken, Hortoni,' the old man went on. 'There is much virtue in this mere, and some day, perhaps ere long, you shall rejoice that it is yours. Take it, my son, and with it an old man's blessing for that your stout heart and strong arm succoured him in his extremity.'
The superstitious veneration in which the Maoris held the greenstone, and their devotion to family relics, were well known to George; but when he realised that the old chief was sincere in his intention to destroy the heirloom rather than allow it to pass into other hands than his own, he made suitable acknowledgments, and thrust the beautiful weapon into that division of his belt which had once contained his revolver.
His point gained, old Te Kaihuia seemed highly delighted, and rubbed his lean hands together, grinning and chattering to himself. Finally he calmed down, and with a sly glance at George, said coaxingly: 'If you are not tired of an old man's tale, Hortoni, perhaps you would like to hear the history of the mere which has now become your own.'
'I should, indeed,' answered George, who had been wondering whether he might ask this very favour without giving offence or intruding upon family secrets.
Te Kaihuia looked pleased, settled himself upon his mats, coughed once or twice after the manner of an orator about to address an audience, and then, after a false start or two, unfolded to the interested listener the following singular history.