"What have you done—what have the white men done?" shouted the wild-eyed chief, now working himself into an insane fury. "You have taught us your prayers and stolen our lands. You have given us the grain and taken the fields. Where are our brothers, our sons, our chiefs? Slain by your soldiers, after robbing them of their lands—even Waitara and Tataraimaka. They are cold in the ground on which they planted and feasted, but which now only serves them for graves."
"Surely you would not kill people with no arms in their hands. Which of our missionaries has ever fired a gun even in defence of his life?"
"The priests of your people do not fight, but they act as spies; they have betrayed our plans to the pakeha general. They will all be killed, like Volkner, to show the world that we shall have no spies, no false prophets, no priests of Baal, amongst us. Prepare to die, even as Volkner died, whose head, with that of the pakeha Boyd, is with us. Let their hands be tied."
At once several eager warriors sprang forward, by whom the women and the missionary were seized. Their hands were bound behind them with strips of the native flax, which effectively rendered them helpless captives.
"You will die when the sun goes down," he said, indicating Cyril Summers. "Call on your God to help you. The rope is ready, and the tree on which you will hang, as did Volkner. But all are not here. Where is the wounded pakeha, and the Ngapuhi girl Erena?"
"They have gone; they went yesterday."
"Which path was theirs? If you deceive me, great suffering will be yours before you die."
"They went into the forest; that is all I can say. The God in whom I trust will save me from cruelty at your hands."
A native at this time said some words in the Maori tongue which seemed for the time to allay the wrath of the raging wild beast into which Kereopa was transformed.