He walked a few steps from the door, and, lighting his pipe, gazed upon the scene before him. The moon, nearly full, lighted up the river, the meadow, the distant mountain, the dark-hued forest. No civilized habitation was visible. No sound broke the stillness of the night, save the murmuring voices of the dwellers in this strange settlement of primitive humanity. Habitudes common to all societies, rude or civilized, were not wanting. Women talked and laughed, children prattled or lamented, as the case might be. There was the narrator of events, the wandering minstrel, the troubadour or "jongleur" of this later Arcadia, with his circle of interested listeners. The boys and girls played at games, or walked in friendly converse, much as those of their age do in all countries. The men were grave or gay, earnest or indifferent, as elsewhere. Occasionally he caught the word _pakeha_ strongly accented, from which he gathered that his appearance and movements had aroused curiosity, perhaps suspicion. After a while he observed a small party or group of mixed sexes, which, breaking up, moved in the direction of his abode. As they came closer, he observed the guide walking among them. Coming to the front, as he advanced to meet them, he inquired of him what it meant. "They want you to go tomorrow and see the famous lakes and terraces. I told them you were in a hurry, and must go back to the Governor at Auckland." Upon this, the leaders of the party, among whom were several young girls, raised a cry of dissent, making angry gestures and sportively threatening the guide, while they pointed towards the east, intimating that the proposed expedition was _kapai_ ("very good"). By the time the explanation had reached that stage, Roland found himself encircled by these dusky maidens, who, with flashing eyes, animated gestures, and caressing tones, sought to make the _pakeha rangatira_ understand that the arrangement would be much to his advantage. The guide spoke to them in the native tongue, extolling the importance and wealth of his patron, and rather deprecating the expedition, as inconsistent with the responsible duties which were his peculiar province. However, such was the persistency with which they urged their argument, that, after asking for a literal translation of the several inducements held out, Roland pretended to waver. "How long will it take," he inquired of his guide, "to go and return?" "Not more than two or three weeks," he returned answer. "And are the natives much the same as these?" "No great difference, except that they are more expert in getting money out of travellers." "Will any of these young people go with us?" "Oh yes, if you ask them, and give them a small keepsake, or something in the way of pay, for their services." "Then, I think I will----"