'Which means that the ancient rogue has reasons for keeping us off the hill to-night.' 'Very likely; but it won't hurt us, fortunately. What do you say to supper and early bed?' 'I'm with you there,' agreed Terence, 'for I'm dog tired.' So they hunted about until they found pretty Miss Kawainga, who soon provided them with an excellent meal, after which they selected a comfortable spot for their bivouac, spread their blankets on the fern, and were quickly asleep. An hour before midnight something awakened George, and he sat up and looked in all directions for the cause. Everything was profoundly still, and presently he made out that the camp was deserted, not a single Maori being visible anywhere. Wondering sleepily what the chief was about, he noticed that their fire had dwindled a good deal, and, knowing that the early hours of morning would be cold, crept out of his blanket-bag and rose, yawning, to replenish it. Hither and thither he moved, gathering sticks and fern, when suddenly the wood dropped through his hands, he turned cold, and his heart throbbed heavily under his creeping flesh. He drew in a deep breath, and his strong will and high courage fought desperately against the unnerving sensations of the moment. For once again the quiet night was rent by those weird, awful sounds which had so unmanned him during that dreary midnight hour aboard the brig a week ago. '_Hau-hau! Hau-hau! Pai marire, hau-hau! Hau-hau!_' From afar the horrid noises screamed through the shivering forest, mixed now and again with a singular gabble of words which somehow had the sound of English, though the distance made it difficult to judge. George made a fierce effort to collect himself. Terence had suffered enough already, and for his sake he must not give way. But to his intense surprise he saw the object of his concern sitting up and listening with an expression of deep interest on his face. 'Queer row, isn't it?' said Terence. 'Do you see those lights on the hill behind there? That is where they are. Perhaps this explains the mysterious confab between the chief and the wizard. I vote we go and have a look at them; we may never get another chance.' George could scarcely believe his ears. The noise which now, as before, so shocked him, was accepted by Terence as something merely interesting. Still, the sight of his friend's unconcern did much to steady his own jumping nerves. Receiving no answer, Terence looked up. The dying fire added to the ghastliness of George's face. 'Hullo! What is it, old fellow?' he cried, rolling out of his bag. 'Are you ill?'