'Has anything been heard of the Arawa spies?' asked George.
'No,' replied the chief, with twinkling eyes. 'It was Paeroa who judged them to be Arawas; but we know better.'
'We!' echoed George. 'What can I know about them?' He spoke haughtily, while Terence, to whom he rapidly interpreted, assumed what he honestly believed to be an expression of most virtuous indignation.
'You can answer that best, Hortoni,' the chief said quickly; 'but, even for one so beloved of the gods as yourself, it is unwise to run too many risks.'
'You speak in riddles,' George began still more distantly, when he was interrupted by an outrageous noise at the outskirts of the camp, where two men were cutting chips from an immense log. In the twinkling of an eye this innocent occupation changed to a furious conflict; for six strange Maoris sprang from the fern behind the giant trunk and savagely attacked the hewers, whose roars for aid set the Hau-haus rushing towards them from all sides.
Realising that they could not fight a host, the six spies—for such they were—took to their heels; but one remained behind, cloven from shoulder to midriff by a mighty stroke from a hewer's axe. The others got clear away, for Te Karearea sternly checked pursuit, and, running up to the big log, hastily scrutinised the corpse.
'Arawa!' he shouted excitedly. 'Dogs of Arawa! They it was who spied upon us last night.'
He spurned the body with his foot, and the Hau-haus instantly flung themselves upon it, and with revolting accompaniments hacked it to pieces.
'Then that story was true after all,' George said in a low voice. 'We are safe; for I am sure the chief has no suspicion of our presence in the underground world.'
'No; and in my opinion——'