"To stop your mouth, perhaps I had better; so I will begin. You must know that there was a young chief called Tutanekai, who resided with his family on this island of Mokoia. He was handsome and brave, but because of certain circumstances, and being a younger son, he was neither of high rank nor consideration in his tribe. He was, however, gifted in various ways, which made the young women of the tribe look favourably upon him. He was fond of music. On account of this, he and his friend Tiki constructed a stage or balcony on the slope of the hill there, which he called Kaiweka. There they used to sit in the evenings, while Tutanekai played on a trumpet and his friend upon a flute, the soft notes of which were wafted across the lake to the village of O-whata, where dwelt Hinemoa. "Now, Hinemoa was the most beautiful maiden in the tribe, and her reputation had travelled far. All the young men had paid court to her, but could get no mark or sign of favour. Among her admirers was Tutanekai, but he was not certain of his feelings being returned, and had not dared to pay her attention openly. So he used, lover-like, to breathe his woes into his melodious instrument; and night after night, as he and his friend sat on their balcony, the tender melancholy notes of the lover's trumpet floated over the lake, and were audible amid the sighs of the evening breeze and the plashing of the waves on the shore. "After many moons, and when the summer was advanced, he found means to send a message to her by a woman of her _hapu_, to whom Hinemoa answered, 'Have we both, then, had such thoughts of each other?' And from that time she began to think daily of the love which had sprung up in her heart for Tutanekai, and to wander about by herself, and refuse food and company, after the manner of lovesick maidens. All her friends and relations began to say, 'What has happened to Hinemoa--she who was formerly so gay?' They also noticed that Tutanekai shunned the company of the young men, save only of his heart's brother, Tiki. Her feelings at length became so uncontrollable, that if there had been a canoe she would have paddled over to the point where her lover's trumpet, like the voice of the sea Atua which none may disobey and live, seemed to draw her very heartstrings towards his abode on Mokoia. But her friends, thinking of this, had secured all the canoes.