'They are after us,' panted George, swerving involuntarily as a bullet smacked into a flax-bush a few inches from him; but Paeroa whispered a hurried instruction and, even as another small hail of balls whimpered past, they leaped from the track into the heart of a flax-bush, thence into the midst of a second, out of that into a third, where George crouched, struggling fiercely to quiet his rough, laboured breathing, while Paeroa with a last encouraging word, slipped into a bush a little further on and squatted there. With one hand grasping the stiff, upstanding leaves, and with the other fast closed about the handle of his club--the loop of which he had taken the precaution to secure round his wrist--George sat listening to the murmur of voices coming gradually nearer. As far as he could judge there were only two or three Maoris on the track, whence he argued that the commotion at the other end had been merely a _ruse de guerre_ to induce the fugitives to believe that they were discovered. Still, it would not do to be too sure, for the Hau-haus were all over the place, and it might well be that while some advanced along the track, others were creeping through the swamp, searching each bush in turn. Suddenly there fell a silence. The men on the manuka had either stopped to reconnoitre or given up the search and gone back, and George, feeling cramped and stiff, was about to change his position, when a low '_he! he!_' from Paeroa warned him to remain still. A moment later a Maori leaped from the track into a flax-bush, searched it swiftly, and passed on to another. The sound indicated that the man was coming in his direction, and George ardently wished that he had continued to hunt for his revolver, instead of gazing, moonstruck, at the greenstone club. Another leap and the man was in the clump next to him. One more and---- A stream of fire, the roar of a revolver, and with a loud, choking gasp the Hau-hau fell dead somewhere in the ooze, while from the adjoining bush came Terence's voice: 'Quick, George, after me! We are close to the spot where the river forks. Kawainga is already across. I came back for you.' Amid the tumult of pursuit, crackling rifle fire and yells, as now and again an incautious Maori floundered into the swamp, they left their cover and leaped from bush to bush across the space between the broken end of the track and the small strip of hard ground by the river. Here Paeroa joined them and, guided by him, they crossed the stream and plunged into the bush. [Illustration: Map of the 'Pah' of Death and its surroundings] 'Safe!' muttered Terence. 'I had to shoot that fellow, George, for he landed almost on top of me. I don't think that they will find us now; but we had better get away as far as possible before we halt. We are not out of the wood yet.'