'Wrong! wrong! Ay; it is all wrong together,' burst out George. 'A devil is loose upon the earth, and his name is Te Karearea. He--he----' His voice faltered, and he stopped for a moment. Then, ominously calm all at once, he resumed: 'News has come that Te Karearea and a company of his Hau-haus stole upon the settlement at Poverty Bay at night and massacred--there's no other word for it, for the poor people were quite unprepared--thirty-three people. And, Terence'--he covered his eyes with his hand--'there were women and little children among them. Your friend Major Biggs was killed, and----' He could say no more. For a time the two sat without further speech. They felt sick with horror; for the picture of those helpless, anguished mothers and their babes would obtrude itself. But at last George sprang up and shook his great shoulders, as if throwing off some fearful oppression. 'Terence,' he said quietly, 'till now, in spite of what I knew him to be capable of, I have had a sneaking sympathy with this ruffian, with his misfortunes, with his aspirations. I knew that his point of view must be different from ours. I was inclined to make allowances. But now--now----' 'I know,' Terence said in a low voice. 'It is--it is those babies.' George's strong teeth seemed to snap together. 'Yes; and he shall answer for them to me.' Then he went out into the night. Next day, as they were sitting in the _marae_, a wounded Maori came up and said, grinning: 'Pokeke fights at the side of Te Karearea, and he constantly mutters "The great axe of Heora." He bade me tell you this, Hortoni.' George laughed contemptuously. 'This Heora is, I believe, one of their mythical heroes,' he explained to Terence. 'When a Maori frequently repeats the words "The great axe of Heora," he means that he is keeping his mind fast set upon revenge. Well, this settles the locality of one of our trio.' 'Yes; and it shows the value of any statement made by Te Karearea,' put in Terence. 'Now I have a piece of news,' he went on. 'I have discovered something very queer about Sounding Sea.' 'What is it?' George asked, interested at once. 'About the same time every night he sneaks past our hut--his own is almost opposite--towards the back of the _pah_. I followed him last night, and he climbed the fence and dropped down on the narrow ledge between the palisades and the edge of the precipice.' 'Go on,' urged George. 'I was close behind him; yet, when I looked over, he had disappeared. The ledge runs about fifteen feet on each side of the point where he scaled the fence, which touches the edge of the cliff at the angles. So, as he could not have gone round, he must have gone over.' 'And what are you going to do?' 'We will both follow him to-night after his visit.'