He endeavoured to clamber up the precipice, assisting himself by the forest roots and creepers which hung in trailing coils down its face, but they gave way under his weight when he had ascended but a few feet, and he found himself at the base of the cliff again, debating whether to try the climb again, or make a long detour, and perhaps lose the run of the point for which he was heading. Suddenly, high above him, a voice cried, "Who's there?" The startled white man, peering through the tangle of foliage and creepers, saw a man standing on the cliff-top--a Maori girt with a flax mat, a gun in his hand. It was Rupé, his chief and owner. The Maori was gazing intently down the cliff. With him was a woman, the old chief's daughter Rihi, who was Bent's wife. He had heard the noise made by Bent in his attempt to scale the cliff, and he noticed the shaking of the bush-vines and leaves that screened the lower part of the wall, but the white man was so far hidden from his vision, Bent called to him: "Don't fire, Rupé! It is I, your _pakeha_--Tu-nui-a-moa!" "_E tama!_" cried the old chief. "I am glad indeed! I came out searching for you, for your life is in great danger." The _pakeha_, changing his position so that Rupé could see him, explained his predicament. "Remain where you are," said Rupé, "and I will lower a rope to you." In a few minutes a line, made of split leaves of the _harakeke_ flax, knotted together, and strengthened with _aka_, or bush-vines, was thrown down the cliff to Bent. The upper end of the hastily made bush rope the old man had made fast to a tree on the cliff-top. "Send your _pikau_ up first, and you can follow," ordered Rupé. Bent tied his flax basket of eels and honey to the line. Rupé hauled it up, lowered the line again, and Bent tied it round his body below the arms. Then the chief and his stalwart daughter hauled the light-weight _pakeha_ safely to the summit of the wall. Rihi and her father both wept as they took Bent's hands, so great was their relief at finding their _pakeha_ safe and sound. Rupé told the white man that he had feared he was dead. "Why?" asked Bent. "Why? There are a score of armed Hauhaus searching the forest for you, and had they found you before I did they would have killed you."