[4] According to tradition, Ngahue was the Maori discoverer of New Zealand, arriving from a mythical island, Hawaiki. George took up the club and examined it. He had seen many a piece of greenstone before, both in the rough and fashioned into ornaments and weapons; but never had he seen anything so beautiful as this _mere_. Its shape was perfect, and not only was the rich green mineral nearly as transparent as glass, but all through its substance ran the most exquisite veining and traceries, resembling fern-fronds, flowers, miniature trees, and even birds and fishes. 'It is a most beautiful object,' he said, handing it back. 'Your ancestor must have had wonderful pride in his workmanship.' Te Kaihuia cast an apprehensive glance around; then whispered almost inaudibly: 'The _mere_ was bestowed upon Te Turi. He did not make it.' 'Well, who gave it to him?' inquired George, amused at the goblin-like aspect of the old creature. With another timid look above and around, Te Kaihuia whispered again with thrilling emphasis: 'It was made by Tumatauenga, the god of war, and he bestowed it upon Te Turi.' 'Ah! then I am not surprised you set such store by it,' said George, careful to suppress the smile which would have hurt the old man's feelings. 'Such a beautiful piece of work deserves to have a romantic history.' But he was destined to be surprised after all, for the aged Maori, balancing the club in his worn hands, said impressively: 'You, too, must set great store by it, Hortoni, for it is the gift of a god, and has marvellous powers. O brave young friend, who thought the remnant of an old man's life worth the risk of your own, stretch forth your hand and receive this gift from me. Treasure it, my son, for it is yours.' '_Mine!_' echoed George, supremely astonished. '_Mine!_ Oh no, Te Kaihuia, this must not be. I will not take so valuable an heirloom from you.' 'It is mine to give,' persisted the hoary chief. 'Descendants I have none. There is but my sister's son, Te Karearea, and rather than that he should inherit it, I would fling it into the sea. And this I swear I will do, Hortoni, if you take not the _mere_ as a gift.' He gently pressed the club upon George, who took it with the greatest reluctance. 'Hearken, Hortoni,' the old man went on. 'There is much virtue in this _mere_, and some day, perhaps ere long, you shall rejoice that it is yours. Take it, my son, and with it an old man's blessing for that your stout heart and strong arm succoured him in his extremity.' The superstitious veneration in which the Maoris held the greenstone, and their devotion to family relics, were well known to George; but when he realised that the old chief was sincere in his intention to destroy the heirloom rather than allow it to pass into other hands than his own, he made suitable acknowledgments, and thrust the beautiful weapon into that division of his belt which had once contained his revolver.