But in an instant George's arm was round his neck, and George's strong hand was pressed firmly over his mouth.
'Control yourself,' was the stern order. 'These are dead, but the living may not be far away.'
Terence nodded, gasping, and, George having released him, the two bent over the fallen figure and pulled aside its mat. George held up a warning finger, for Terence again began to giggle at the extraordinary sight.
For the thing had no body! Not one in all that silent circle possessed aught but a head, stuck upon a pointed stick, with a crosspiece for shoulders, upon which the mat was hung. In the full glare of day the illusion would have been impossible; but here, in the gloom of the underworld, with only the smoke-veiled light of a couple of torches, it looked real enough, and horrible enough, too.
'We were a pair of jackasses to be taken in,' said Terence, politely including himself. 'It did not strike us that they were sitting here in the dark, and that, but for our torches, we should not have seen them at all.'
George was gazing thoughtfully at the heads. 'You know the established custom,' he said at last. 'When a Maori is killed in battle, or dies away from home, it is the duty of a friend to cut off his head and bring it to his relations, so that the family mana, or honour, may not be sullied. Then the head is preserved, and retains, as you see, a weirdly lifelike appearance.'
'I do see,' said Terence, whose lips were twitching.
'Now observe,' went on George. 'That is the head of Te Pouri, whom Te Karearea slew, and next to it is all that is left of old Te Kaihuia. Both of these were brought along by our contingent, so that they must have been placed here within the last few hours. It is reasonable to deduce from this that there must be an outlet not far away.'
'But why have these bodiless heads been set up here, do you suppose?' inquired Terence.
'This may be the storing ground for family relics, or, perhaps, there may be something peculiarly drying in the atmosphere. I really don't know; but——'