'It is clear that we were all kept off the hill to-night in order that our ancient friend might introduce the chief unobserved into the secret haunt we have just left,' said Terence.
'And little did they dream that they would have an audience,' put in George. 'I know a good deal more about things than I did an hour ago. Let us go down and camp on the flat. There are worse beds than the heart of a flax-bush, and we shall be well concealed in case they are hunting for us. We are sure to have been missed from the bivouac.'
'Let us take the bearings of this opening before we go,' suggested Terence. 'How are we facing? Ah! there's the Southern Cross.'
'This rock is a good guide,' said George. 'The bushes hide the opening very completely, and I dare say it can be further disguised. I wonder if many people know of it.'
'I should think not, and I am sure that the hole by which we entered is not commonly known,' replied Terence. 'We must do our best to find it again.'
They found the track and descended the hill to the plain, hiding themselves as quickly as possible among the flax-bushes near the river road. Then George said:
'I will tell you to-morrow all that passed between Te Karearea and Kapua Mangu, and why I am regarded as such a valuable asset. Why, the chief's very existence appears to depend upon his success in making a Pakeha-Maori of me.'
'Tell all about it,' pleaded Terence.
'You cormorant! Haven't you had excitement enough for one night? Not a word—oh, just one. If I lay the greenstone club aside, even for a moment, and you are by, call my attention to it at once, please. Otherwise things may happen.'
'You mean creature! How do you expect me to sleep in peace?' complained Terence. 'I shall dream all night of you and your magic club.'