But Paeroa had no such intention. Wrought up to a pitch of fury at the recollection of his wrongs at this coward's hands, and mad with rage at the attempt upon the life of his betrothed, his strength was unnatural. For one instant he came uppermost in the struggle; but it was enough. Glaring wildly about him, he saw and scooped the wooden club from the ground, and, without waiting to fasten his grip upon the handle, brought the triangular edge smashing down upon the upturned face of Sounding Sea. The force of the blow spent itself upon the temple, and with a deep groan the Hau-hau fell back, killed outright by that terrible stroke. 'Ha!' Paeroa gasped, floundering to his feet and shaking the bloodstained club. 'Ha! I have slain a _taipo_. The strength of ATUA was in me.' Then he lurched forward like a drunken man, and crashed down at Kawainga's feet. Horrified, George and Terence gazed at the swift, awful scene. It is no light matter to see a man slain before your eyes. Moved by a common impulse, they reverently lifted the dead man and carried him to one side, while Kawainga fussed and crooned over Paeroa. 'If any one is aware of his visits here, and knows that he was employed to watch us----' began George; but Terence struck in: 'We are armed now, and with revolvers, not to speak of your greenstone club. By the way, why didn't you bring it with you?' 'I did,' answered George, clapping his hand to his side. But the loop in his belt was empty. The _mere_ was gone. Startled, George looked about the cave; but nowhere could he find the club. 'I fear it has dropped into the river as I came down the ladder,' he said. 'Wait here, if you don't mind, Terence, and I will go and see if I have left it in our hut. No; let me go, for if I meet any one, my knowledge of the language will get me past him, whereas you might be stopped.' 'Bring back the basket of food with you,' Terence called after him as he hurried away. As he rapidly ascended the ladder, George became conscious of an extraordinary commotion in the _pah_. Shouts and cries, wailing of _teteres_, even gun-shots, disturbed the quiet night, and, wondering what had happened, he scaled the palisades and sped to his _whare_. A glance all round told him that the club was not there, so, snatching up the basket of food, he was about to set off again, when from the confusion of sounds in the direction of the _marae_, one detached itself, clear and high: '_Rongo pai! Rongo pai!_' (Good tidings! Good tidings!) 'Salutations, O Hawk of the Mountain! O Slayer of the Pakeha, hail!' Without an instant's pause George turned and ran, scaling the stockade, and dashing down the flax-ladder at perilous speed. 'Come!' he shouted, when he had gained the entrance to the cave. 'Out of this for your lives. Te Karearea has returned!' CHAPTER XX A BID FOR LIBERTY