But even were the bridge to be rushed, the ascent of the hill was made difficult by carefully laid trenches and rifle-pits, and, finally, the _pah_ was encircled by a double row of palisades of great height and immense strength, the chinks between the massive logs being filled with hard-baked mud and clay. The palisades were loopholed above, and a rude platform ran along the inner side of each row, where men might lie, secure themselves, and fire upon an advancing foe. It would indeed be a desperate and determined foe who would venture to attack, much more succeed in taking, the _Pah O Te Mate_--the Pah of the Slain, the Fortress of Death. As it happened, the weary travellers were not destined to enter the _pah_ just yet; for as the vanguard swung out of the forest and prepared to cross the hundred yards or so of cleared ground between them and the bridge, they saw a sight which halted them as effectually as though some sudden stroke had robbed their limbs of all power. But they could not stand still, for those in the rear pressed them on, and presently the little clearing became almost blocked with armed men vainly striving to preserve their customary proud and resolute bearing, and with trembling women who did not attempt to hide their extreme terror. In the midst of the confusion the voice of Te Karearea was heard angrily demanding the cause of the block, but no sooner had the chief forced his way to the front than he, too, stopped as if compelled, all signs of anger faded from his face, and he stood meek and inoffensive, his hands crossed upon his broad chest, his plumed head bowed low. And what was the cause of all this fear and commotion? Standing alone at the bridge-head was one old man. His figure was bent, his snow-white hair fell, a tangle of locks, below his shoulders, and the hand which grasped the staff upon which he leaned, trembled as it clutched the crook. Yet there was fire in his rolling eyes, and a hint of mastery, if not of menace, in the gesture with which he flung up his free hand, forbidding the advance; and his voice, far from piping in the thin treble of extreme old age, rang stern and sonorous, as the liquid Maori speech gushed from his venerable lips. He was Kapua Mangu--the Black Cloud--the _Tohunga_, and most notable of all the Maori wizards. At the old man's bidding, Te Karearea advanced and listened respectfully to some words spoken for his ear alone. Then, turning, he rapidly issued an order which sent the warriors tumbling back into the forest, while side by side with the great magician, the chief set off across the plain in the direction of the _pah_. 'So we are not to enter the fortress to-night,' George explained to Terence as they followed the Maoris. 'According to the old gentleman, a particularly malignant demon has taken up his quarters on the hill, and any attempt to pass him would be fraught with dire peril. To-morrow we are to make a kind of state entry.'