'There is something in the wind,' George said one day a fortnight after their arrival. 'I am told that the war-dance was performed last night. Now, a big war-dance is a thing unknown except on the outbreak of war, or just before a battle; so perhaps word has come of the approach of our troops, or there may be friendlies in the neighbourhood.' 'I noticed no particular excitement to-day,' observed Terence. 'Perhaps not; but all the same some big military movement is imminent. If you could understand their talk, you would have heard them boasting that none of the dancers fainted or fell, which is always considered a good omen.' On the following afternoon, attracted by bursts of laughter, the comrades turned into one of the long lanes between the _whares_, and came upon a dozen lads amusing themselves by casting clubs at a sort of Maori equivalent to the 'Aunt Sally' of English fairs. The 'uncle,' as it was here, was grim enough, being the dried head of one of the Arawas slain in the recent fight. On the crown of this dismal object was set an empty beer-bottle, and to bring this down without touching the head was the object of the throwers. But the more they threw, the more they missed, which struck Terence as odd, and, at last, Te Karearea, who was leaning nonchalantly against a door-post, looking on, drew out his _mere_ and stepped forward. 'Let us show these children what men can do,' he said, and shivered the bottle at the first throw. 'Can you better that, Hortoni?' 'Perhaps I can equal it,' returned George, taking his stand. Te Karearea's eyes gleamed and flashed a glance of intelligence at a lank youth who was lounging near the mark, apparently uninterested. Back swung George's arm; but as his right foot was raised preparatory to the cast, his greenstone club was plucked from his fingers, and he turned sharply to find Terence smiling at him and holding the precious weapon. Without a word or a look at Te Karearea, George thrust the club back into his belt and strode away. Terence, however, lingered an instant to grin triumphantly at the chief, in exchange for which attention he received a scowl so hateful and malignant that he thought it wise to follow his friend without delay. The captives were greatly troubled by their inability to discover the whereabouts of Paeroa, Kawainga his betrothed, and Pokeke the Hau-hau, not one of whom had been seen since the day of their entrance into the _pah_. George was convinced that all three had been hidden away, if not killed out of hand, in order to prevent them from coming further under his influence; and concerning Paeroa and his sweetheart he was sincerely distressed.