'To you also salutations, O chief!' returned George. 'I am called Hortoni.' He gave his name according to Maori pronunciation, adding: 'I would rather that you spoke the speech of the Pakeha, for it is long since I was in the land of the Maori, and I have forgotten much.' Te Karearea took no notice of this appeal. 'There are some things it is wiser to forget,' he said sententiously, with a backward glance at the shore. 'Let us forget that I have been a--what I have been. It is better to remember only that I am Te Karearea, an _Ariki_.'[2] [2] A chief of the highest class. 'I will remember, O swift-flying, quick-striking one!' replied George, with a slight inclination. This allusion to the significance of his name pleased the chief, whose fierce features relaxed in a smile. 'It is good,' he said. 'Fear nought, Hortoni; I mean you no evil. No one shall suffer at my hands.' 'Yet the captain of the brig lies dead upon the sand,' observed George, with less than his usual tact. 'He was a fool,' answered Te Karearea, with darkening brow. 'He resisted, and my young men slew him.' He studied George intently for a moment, and resumed: 'They who are wise will not walk to Reinga. You, for instance, Hortoni, would rather that they should carry you there. Is it not so, my friend?'[3] [3] By one familiar with Maori metaphor this would be understood to mean that a man would prefer to await death in the natural course of events, rather than anticipate it by resistance. George gravely inclined his head. 'Then hear the word of Te Karearea,' pursued the chief. 'Can I not swallow the Pakehas on this ship as the inrushing tide swallows the beach? Can I not slay or spare, according to my will?' There was a deep, booming note in his voice, as of distant thunder, threatening a storm, and he paused, glaring at George, who held his respectful attitude, not being a fool, as Te Karearea had admitted. 'I hate the Pakehas, though there are some whom I am able to esteem,' went on the chief, accompanying the softening clause with a sly smile in the direction of the listener. 'Yet, though I hate, I can be merciful. I can spare as well as slay. Is it not so, O Hortoni?' Still George only bowed acquiescence, wondering what the chief would be at. He knew perfectly well that all this circumlocution meant that the chief wanted something of him, but what it was he could not imagine. So he tried the effect of a direct question: 'What are you going to do with us?' But the wily Maori was not to be caught. 'Time will show, Hortoni,' he replied. 'At present I say nought.' 'To what end all this talk then, O Chief? Are we not as rats in a trap? Why should the hawk converse with the rat, if not to devour him? Will you then spare the lives of the rats in the hold?'