But what of the other prisoner? He was now strictly guarded, and could learn nothing about his friend, except what he gathered from a whisper which he overheard among the sentries: "Hung on the willow tree." Together with the sailors and other Europeans, he was now marched to the spot to which Volkner had first been led. But there was no repetition of the tragedy. There was robbing of pockets, binding of hands, and an exhibition of bullying tyranny; but the lust for blood had abated. With the cryptic utterance, "A time to bind, and a time to loose; a time to kill, and a time to make alive," the bonds were loosed from all the party, and they were bidden to stay for the night in the house of a sick settler named Hooper. It was a night of horror. In the one small room--18ft. by 12ft.--there were crowded the sick man, four sailors, the missionary, and "six or eight natives--men, women, and children. The suffocation from so many people and from the fumes of tobacco was almost overpowering." Grace had just heard certain news of his friend's fate, and had "every reason to believe that it would be his own last night on earth." Again as he lay awake he could hear "the dancing and shouting going on in the Romish chapel, and also in the church." Again the sailors showed their humanity by sharing their coats and blankets. But there were no evening prayers now, for there was too much moving about. Even his Prayer Book had been carried off: "I could only in private commend myself and my companions to the watchful care of our Heavenly Father. Thus ended this terrible day, upon which the first blood was shed in New Zealand for the Gospel's sake." The morrow was "a dreadful day of bitter suspense." But it brought its own consolation. The sick man had a few books, and amongst them was a Prayer Book which had been given him by Volkner. Again therefore the psalms could be read, and those for the day "appeared written for the occasion." They had taken a brighter tone: Thou shalt show me the path of life! Two days later the Hauhau leader, Patara, arrived and held a trial in the church. The charges were all of a political character. Volkner was denounced as a spy, because he had travelled so often between Opotiki and Auckland. Nothing could be brought against Grace, except the old charge of taking away the Maori's land. "Neither Mr. Volkner nor I have any land," said the missionary. The Maoris seemed by this time somewhat ashamed of their barbarity, and Grace was allowed his liberty to go about the _pa_. He was soon able to secure proper and Christian burial for the mangled remains of his friend, in a grave dug at the east end of the church[15]; but beyond a daily visit to this spot he had no resource, and soon found the time hang heavily on his hands. [15] The grave is now "before the altar" of the new chancel, which extends further eastwards than the old one.