This calamity finished the gallant officer, who retreated throughout the night over terrible country, with his weary and dispirited column at his heels, ammunitionless and supperless. They were not pursued; for the Maoris themselves were tired and hungry, and preferred to set about the preparation of a well-earned meal. For even though a man fight in a bad cause, he yet gets up appetite enough to enjoy his dinner. Wrath and disappointment at the result of the fight had made George unusually sullen, but when the pretty maid who had so deftly bandaged him, and whose musical name was Kawainga, or Star of the Dawn, brought him supper, his sufferings, less poignant than his appetite, did not compel him to refuse. A hungry man is an angry man, and certainly when George had eaten all the good things set before him, and smoked a looted cigar--Te Karearea with generous irony had sent him a handful--his temporary irritation vanished, and his usual cool temper reasserted itself. He had plenty of common-sense, and recognising that there was nothing to be gained by quarrelling with the chief, presently accepted the latter's invitation to stroll round the camp and visit the pickets. For Te Karearea observed all proper military precautions, and maintained an iron discipline in camp and field. 'It would be no easy matter for a Pakeha to break through my lines, Hortoni,' he remarked, as they turned again towards the bivouac. 'If you are hinting at me, I have no intention of trying,' was George's reply to this suggestive remark. 'But why are you so anxious to detain me?' 'Why are you so anxious to leave me, my friend?' countered the Maori, and, as George burst out laughing, 'I have not treated you ill, Hortoni,' he added rather wistfully. 'True. Still, you talk as a fool. Home, friends, duty, inclination, all call me away from you. You are in arms against the men of my race. Is it any wonder that I fret in the toils?' 'Yet there are chiefs who have their Pakehas,' urged Te Karearea. 'That is not much to the credit of those Pakehas,' George said loftily; and to change the subject went on: 'Where is Paeroa?' 'Be wise in time, Hortoni,' the chief urged earnestly. 'You possess, though you do not realise it, a certain means of attaining greatness. Ascend the ladder which I am holding for you, and you will be great. Refuse, and you are doomed, even as your race is doomed. You ask for Paeroa. He is gone to carry the message of my coming.' 'And who will listen to it?' George asked dryly.