It was soon evident that they could not get out by the way they had come in, at least, not without the aid of a rope, and from this, and the condition of the torches, they argued that the place, though known at one time, had long ago fallen into disuse. But Terence was by no means disheartened, and was eager to go forward.
'Come on!' he cried. 'Our way lies in this direction as far as we know.'
'But, if we go forward among the mazes of these dead trees, we may discover no other outlet and be unable to find our way back to this one,' argued George.
'Never mind; let us chance it,' insisted Terence. 'There must be another entrance or outlet or these torches would not be here.'
George yielded against his better judgment, and for half an hour they wandered through what they now realised to be a dead forest, but no way out did they find. Suddenly the Irishman pulled up.
'Why, in all this new excitement I had quite forgotten that marvellous occurrence upon the hill,' he said. 'Of course I jumped to the conclusion that the Maori was Paeroa, of whom you told me; but what I want to know is—How came you to drag out your own club and hold it over your head just in time to guard his stroke?'
'My belt had got screwed round and the club was hurting my chest; so I took it out and laid it on the fern in front of me when first we "grassed" ourselves. But, if you will believe me, I have not the slightest recollection of picking it up again when I rolled over on my back as Paeroa struck at me.'
'Then you expected to be struck,' said Terence.
'I can hardly say. I know that I was mightily surprised when my mere broke the shock of the wooden club, for I did not see it in my hands as I stared up at Paeroa.'
'But you must have felt it,' persisted Terence.