So saying, he departed to his _taua_, who, not until he dismissed them, piled their muskets, over which, in despite of their friendly relations with Rotorua, they set an adequate guard. They were soon observed to join their compatriots in a copious and hospitable meal provided by the women of the tribe. "How relieved I am!" said Warwick, when father and daughter had departed on their respective errands. "Nothing could have been more fortunate than meeting Mr. Mannering here. Even in travelling to Hokianga, a friendly route, we might have met a skirmishing _taua_ like his own, and, in spite of Waka Nene's passport, would have stood but little show of escaping. Maori blood has been shed, as well as white, and any murder of stray Europeans or hostile natives would be justifiable, according to inter-tribal law." "Then we are safe as far as Hokianga?" "I should say perfectly so. Mr. Mannering is a tower of strength; no single _taua_ dares tackle his. His bodyguard are picked men, known to be equal to almost double their number. Then, of course, he has the whole Ngapuhi tribe, five thousand strong, at his back." "And when we get to this Hokianga, as it is called? Is it a township?" "It's a noble river, miles wide near the sea, with towns and villages on it. In the grand forests of Kauri Totara and other pine woods within reach, a great timber trade has flourished for many years past. Sailing-vessels ply between Horaki, Rawini, and Auckland, so there will be no difficulty in getting back." The ceremonies proper to leave-taking having been transacted, the reinforced party set out for the Hokianga, through what are mostly described as pathless woods interspersed with morasses. When the march was less difficult, and there was leisure for conversation, Mannering beguiled the way with tales and reminiscences which caused Massinger to wonder unceasingly that a man so variously gifted, possessed of such social charm, so wide an experience of men and books, should have elected to wear out his life amid a barbaric race. "Doubtless," thought he, "this man belongs to the true Viking breed, a born leader of men, impatient of the restraints of civilization, not to be contented without the quickening presence of danger, 'the dust of desperate battle,' the savour of blood, even. Such men have always been thrown off, from time to time, by our sea-roving race; have nobly done their parts in subduing for the empire the waste places of the earth. His hair is tinged with grey, but how springy his long elastic strides, how youthful are all his movements, how joyous his laugh, how keen his sense of humour! An _Anax andrōn_--a king of men, without doubt. No wonder that his daughter should have inherited, along with her glorious physical perfection, which she owes in part to her mother's race, the higher intelligence and lofty ideals which ennoble 'the heirs of all the ages, and the foremost files of Time!'" CHAPTER IX