Kereopa and Ngarara had escaped; but Ropata, who had started as soon as he delivered up his Hau-Hau prisoners, was hot on their trail. Kereopa, in spite of his keen and eager pursuit, fled to the Uriwera country, where he found shelter for a time, but led the hunted life of the outcast until it suited his protectors to betray him. Forwarded to Auckland, he was duly tried, convicted, and hanged. Ngarara had a shorter term of comparative freedom. One morning, shortly after the attack on the mission, a small party of the Aowera appeared at Whakarewarewa, the main body of the tribe being encamped on Lake Rotorua. A bound prisoner was in their midst, on whose movements they kept watchful guard. It was Ngarara! A sub-chief, having been apprised of the capture, arrived with leading warriors. One glance at his stern features assured the captive that he had no mercy to expect. Contrary to Maori usage, he did not disdain to beg for it. "I tried to kill the pakeha," he said. "What harm was there in that? He stole the heart of the girl I loved; who, but for him and his cunning ways, might have loved me. I would have given my life for her. Other men have killed pakehas--Rewi, Rawiri, even Te Oriori; why should I be the sacrifice?" The chief listened with an air of disgust, but did not deign to reply. Meanwhile an order had been given, and the party marched on, taking the prisoner with them, preserving a strict silence, which evidently impressed him more deeply than any other treatment. In about three hours they arrived at the mission station of Ngae. Here a feeling of misgiving appeared to arise in the captive's mind, and he muttered the word "Tikitere" with an accent of inquiry. But no man answered or took notice of his speech. But when they reached that desolate and awful valley, and saw the mud volcanoes and steaming springs in furious motion, his courage failed him. He saw the hissing, bubbling lakes separated by a narrow ridge, aptly named the Gate of Hell, standing on which the traveller shudders, while breathing sulphuretted hydrogen and beholding the turbid waves on either side--the while the tremulous soil suggests the enormous power of the central fires, which at any time might rend and ruin all around with earthquake shock and suddenness. He knew also, none better, of the dread blackness of the inferno, in which the sombre billows of a tormented sea of boiling mud are heaving and seething continually. As with careful steps his guards half dragged, half carried him across the treacherous flat, seamed with fissures, where death lay in wait for the heedless stranger, he appeared to comprehend fully the fate that awaited him. He yelled aloud and struggled so wildly, even despite his bonds, that, at a motion of Ropata's arm, two stalwart natives stepped forward to the aid of their comrades as he neared the fatal abyss.