But Te Karearea had always to be reckoned with. No sooner had the spies fled, than he dispatched Winata Pakaro with fifty men to make a rapid flanking march and ascertain whether they had to do with a large force or a _mere_ screen of scouts. In either case Winata had his orders, which he carried out to the letter, and in a few moments from the firing of the first shot, the clearing was filled with a mob of yelling combatants, and a hand-to-hand fight in the good old style began. The muskets, useless now, were flung away, or swung by the barrel, while tomahawk and club clashed and jarred and rattled in the shock of their meeting. Presently the watchers heard Te Karearea's voice raised in a shout of savage triumph. '_Mataika! Mataika!_' he yelled, and, grasping a young Arawa chief by the hair with his left hand, dashed out the man's brains with a single blow of the heavy club in his right. '_Mataika!_' he yelled again. '_Ki au te Mataika!_' and, brandishing the blood-stained _mere_, dashed into the midst of the foe. 'Is that his battle-cry?' called Terence from behind his tree. 'No. The first to be killed in a fight is called the _Mataika_,' explained George. '"I have the _Mataika_" is the cry of the successful slayer, and duels often arise after a battle, owing to disputes among the claimants to the honour.' The Arawas, taken thus in the rear, and hopelessly outnumbered, had no chance, and the end of the skirmish came when some twenty of the brave, rash fellows--all that were left of fifty--broke through the packed masses of their enemies and fled, unpursued, through the bush. 'The Hawk has all the luck,' grumbled George. 'What a piece of folly for so small a force to attack five hundred!' 'Never mind,' Terence said cheerfully. 'It shows, at all events, that some one is on our trail, and that our sweet chief is not to be allowed to have everything his own way. Here he comes. Lo, what a swelling port!' Te Karearea stalked up to them, his chest heaving, his eyes still aflame with the fierce light of battle. His scarred visage looked grimmer than ever as he grinned balefully at his 'guests.' 'Ha! Even without the _mere_ of TUMATAUENGA, it seems that we can still win a fight,' he said truculently. 'You outnumbered the Arawas by ten to one,' began George, but added hastily, as the chief's brows knit in a frown: 'That flanking movement to take a probable foe in the rear was fine generalship.' Te Karearea was never above nicely judged flattery. 'Praise from a soldier's son! That is good,' he said, nodding his plumed head. 'Had you been fighting by my side, Hortoni, not one of the dogs had escaped. Why not become my Pakeha?' 'One might really do worse,' returned George lightly. 'You have all the luck.' Whereat the chief looked mightily pleased. 'We will talk of this again, Hortoni,' he said. 'I remember that your parole expires to-night. Will you renew your promise?' 'Yes,' George answered at once.