“Lay thy condition upon the ground, O wild white crane among tohungas—lay thy condition upon the ground before us, that we may look at it and take it up or not as it seems good to us.”
“It is well,” he replied. “Lo! the beginning of my word to you is this: I am growing old; my foot is already searching for firm places among the snows that encircle the summit of Ruahine; I see those who are not present, I hear those who do not speak; any day I may look into the eyes of the green lizard that will summon me to Reinga.[5] But before I descend by the sacred Pohutukawa root that leads to the Abode of Spirits I would undo a wrong that I did—an evil deed, cruel and unfair beneath the eye of Rehua.
“That is the beginning of my speech to you, and this is how it runs on. Hearken, Pakehas! You, O Friend of Kahikatea, the Forest Tree, seek a woman concerning whom, if you agree to my condition, the spirits that linger by night may speak to me: Te Makawawa, whose heart is in his face before you, seeks a white-faced child whom he cannot find, for he knows not the speech of the Pakeha.
“Hear the end, O Friend of my friend, the Forest Tree—the end is for you. When the child is found I myself will teach you concerning the woman. The tongue of the Maori is known to you as well as the tongue of the Pakeha; therefore, you can search among the races of the South for the white-faced child. If this bargain seems good then I will speak to you and to the Forest Tree. And when the child is found I will commune with the spirits of my ancestors about the woman.”
“And if I find the child, O chief,” I said, “will you swear upon the sacred tiki[6] that you will find the woman?”
Te Makawawa turned a withering glance upon me.
“The Friend of the Forest Tree speaks the Maori tongue, but surely he does not know the Maori heart——” he began, but Kahikatea broke in upon his words.
“It is enough,” he said. “The word of Te Makawawa is good; it will not snap like the kohutukutu’s branch. Let my brother Wanaki say whether he will accept the condition.”
I am obstinate by nature, and somewhat cynical, but from Kahikatea’s manner I guessed that old Te Makawawa, notwithstanding his remark to the effect that the spirits of his ancestors would enlighten his ignorance, already knew more about Miriam Grey than we should ever find out unless we accepted his own terms. Having turned this over in my mind I said:
“I forgot that the word of the ariki was sworn upon his own heart, which is sacred. I call back my words, O chief, and I agree to your condition. Now speak and answer the words of Kahikatea about his dream, and my own words about the woman.”