George wondered why he had not been served similarly; but he was evidently reserved for more distinguished treatment, for his guard, motioning towards the deck-house, said: 'Let the young Pakeha go in there, into the little whare (house) that sits upon the bosom of the ship.' '_Ka pai!_' (Good!) returned George, and the fierce brown face lightened for an instant at the sound of the Maori speech in the mouth of the handsome young Pakeha. '_Haere ra!_'[4] exclaimed the Maori, grinning and using the native form of salutation to a departing guest; and '_Au haere!_'[5] answered George, feeling pleasantly satisfied that no harm was intended him, in the first instance at all events. [4] Literally, 'Go truly.' [5] 'I go,' i.e. 'Good-bye.' 'This is a sudden change,' thought the young man, as he looked through a little window at the shore. 'The poor skipper is done for; he has not moved since he fell. There's that tall fellow who was aboard yesterday. He is making for the beach. Now for developments. I suspect that he is at the bottom of this wretched business.' As he watched, boat-load after boat-load of Maoris put off from the shore, their embarkation being directed by the tall, dignified man with whom George had been so struck the day before. As each boat reached the brig, it emptied itself of its passengers and stores, and returned for more, so that in no very long time all the quondam prisoners, to the number of about two hundred, were transferred to the ship. Presently the last of the boats left the beach, bringing the tall Maori and such of his associates as had been employed to guard the Residency and other houses, as well as the two sailors who had rowed the unfortunate skipper ashore. A short interval followed, and then, amid the most lively demonstrations of welcome and respect, the organiser of the revolt boarded the brig, and stood looking about him with the proud air of a conqueror. With a few curt words he dismissed the fawning crowd, and after a thorough examination of the brig and her cargo, returned to the deck-house. A whisper sent the guard out of earshot, and a moment later George found himself in the presence of the man who was destined ere long to prove himself a mighty warrior, and to incur the bitter hatred and execration of every colonist in New Zealand. CHAPTER IV TE KAREAREA[1] [1] The Sparrow-Hawk. As Englishman and Maori faced one another, they afforded admirable examples of opposite types. The one tall and superbly moulded, fair-haired and blue-eyed, and with winning frankness and generous high-mindedness in every line of his well-cut features; the other not quite so tall, but equally well made, with coal-black hair, furtive brown eyes, and an expression indicative of courage and intelligence, but also of a high degree of cunning. 'Salutations to you, O friend!' began the Maori in his own language. 'How are you called? I am Te Karearea. It seems you speak with the tongue of the Maori.'