In three strides he was upon him, and in another moment the negro was twisting and twining in a strong grasp from which his soul, if he had one, might possibly find escape towards hell, but his body never. Kahikatea had gripped him by the arms. Now he transferred one hand to the wizard’s throat, and the end began. As I stood by and watched, I thought it strange that the negro did not use his liberated arm and hand to clutch at the one which gripped his throat. Instead of doing that, as they swayed to and fro, he was feeling with it for something in his hair. His eyes were starting out of his head, but his fingers were still searching through his hair as Kahikatea shook and strangled and shook him again.
Presently the fingers drew forth a slender thing—a small, reed-like dagger, only large enough to give a needle’s prick, but I knew it was poisoned. With a quick shout of “Take care!” I darted forward just as the negro was raising his arm. I caught him by the wrist, but, with a quick side twist, he wrenched loose, scratching my skin with the cursed thing as he did so. Then, swift as lightning, before I could intervene, he raised his arm again, and drove the point into Kahikatea’s shoulder.
A last horror swept through me as I realised that in less than three seconds we should both be at his mercy by virtue of the swift poison; and the form lying still in death behind us—great God! should
img321.jpg“KAHIKATEA STOOD LIKE A BRONZE STATUE, WITH ONE ARM STRETCHED OUT. IN THE HAND OF THAT ARM WAS THE THROAT OF THE WIZARD, WHOSE BODY HUNG FROM IT, LIMP AND LIFELESS.”
“KAHIKATEA STOOD LIKE A BRONZE STATUE, WITH ONE ARM STRETCHED OUT. IN THE HAND OF THAT ARM WAS THE THROAT OF THE WIZARD, WHOSE BODY HUNG FROM IT, LIMP AND LIFELESS.”
the body of the Pure One pass into this foul wizard’s hands after all? In another moment all would be over. I felt my senses going, when I saw that the negro was trying to speak, but Kahikatea’s hand was still too tight on his throat. Not until it relaxed under the influence of the poison could he speak the words which would take command of our failing wills. Then, when I saw that, a lightning thought flashed through my mind: the commanding voice should be mine. I was going fast, but I still had strength enough to cry: “Kahikatea! my voice is the only thing! You cannot let go! Kill him! Kill him! You cannot let go!”
The last words seemed to come from everywhere. Myself seemed blotted out, and my own words sounded like many voices crying as one from beyond the horizon: “You cannot let go!” Then I know not what happened. Consciousness fled to this extent—I was conscious of nothing but a blank.
* * * * *
When I awoke I found myself on the stone floor. I sat up and gazed about me. The fire was burnt low, and I could see only the form of Hinauri still lying where it had been. The place was too dark to see more. I rose hastily, and kicked the remains of the fire together. A bright blaze sprang up, and I turned towards the spot where I had last seen the wizard in the grip of my friend. They were still there. Apparently the fight was not yet finished, for I could see vaguely the two figures standing together in the gloom. How could this be? The fire could not have burnt down in less than two hours.
I snatched a piece of smouldering pineheart, fanned it to a blaze, and, hastening to where they stood, held it up. The thing that I saw was as grim as it was weird. Kahikatea stood like a bronze statue, with one arm stretched out. In the hand of that arm was the throat of the wizard, whose body hung from it, limp and lifeless. Kahikatea’s face was set, his teeth clenched; the command, “You cannot let go!” was written on iron in every feature, muscle, and limb; and, with his eyes fixed on the lifeless thing he held suspended by the throat before him, he was still strangling that wizard, whose last twisted hideousness was too frightful to describe.
A pale ghost of a “Thank God!” fell from my lips; then I set about undoing the voice-and-poison spell.
“Kahikatea!” I said; “my voice is the only thing; you are yourself again; wake up! you can let go.”
His fingers relaxed, and the wizard corpse fell in a huddled heap upon the floor. Kahikatea turned to me with a look of amazement on his face.
“What happened?” he said; “I felt my senses going when I heard you shout ‘Kill him! you cannot let go!’ and then I seemed to be spending a long lifetime in strangling him with all my strength.”
As briefly as possible I explained the strange action of the wizard’s poison and the power of the first will that came into possession by means of the voice. I had not finished when, at a sound from the darkness in the direction of the lower tunnel, I suddenly broke off, and we both faced round to listen. Again the sound came to our ears; it was the soft splash of water against the rocks. I advanced with the blazing wood in my finger tips, and saw with dismay that the flood was rapidly rising in the tunnel. It was already within ten yards of where we stood, and was encroaching visibly.
I turned to Kahikatea. “Quick!” I cried; “all the outlets are closed, and the place is filling. Up through the tunnels to the marble cave. I will follow.”
He turned and tenderly lifted the body of the Bright One in his arms; then, taking up a fragment of burning wood, he proceeded into the tunnel which led up into the marble cave. I remained, and dragged the body of the Vile Thing of Darkness towards the breast-high barrier upon which the lever had rested as on a fulcrum. Then, raising my burden above my head, I heaved it into the gulf that yawned on the other side. Something of the triumphant feelings of Ngaraki, when he had hurled the Vile Tohunga’s head down to Porawa, came over me as I listened, fancying that I should hear that wild laugh again echoing from the depths of Darkness. But there was no reply; the Poisoner had gone down for ever.
I was aroused by the wash of the water rising on the rocks where I stood. Even as I sprang forward and caught up another blazing fragment, the tide surged in and swamped the fire with a quick hiss. I darted into the tunnel with the waves lapping at my heels, and followed Kahikatea.
When I reached the marble cave I stood and surveyed the scene before me with feelings of regret, dismay, and despair. A great slab of stone had slid down in the grooves that I had noticed on each side of the opening, and the place was closed even to the moon and stars; but what called up all my grief afresh was a thing of which I had been convinced ever since I left the cave to find Hinauri. The marble statue no longer stood in the centre of the cave with its arms outstretched. There, on the floor, broken and shattered, were the fragments of the lovely image which Miriam Grey, as a sculptress, had hewn out of the sacred stone; and there, a little beyond, lying upon a soft Maori mat, was the still cold form of the lovely spirit which she, as a mother, had led out of the distant past.
As I made my way among the fragments, I picked up the golden circlet, and, bending down, gently placed it upon Hinauri’s brow. At once the prophecy came to my mind—the prophecy she had read after solemnly identifying herself with the statue: “Thou, Hia, shalt return at the dawn of a new age, but ere the sun shall have shone twice upon this, thy crown, thou shalt withdraw into the sky.”
Kahikatea was in the recess of the inner cave, holding in his hand the rope by which he had descended.
“I will go first,” he said; “then I will let the rope down a little so that you can make a double loop for her, and I will draw her up. After that I’ll let the rope down again for you. But wrap her in the mat, Warnock, and fasten the rope securely.”
He began to climb as he gave these directions, but he was scarcely five feet from the ground when the strands broke far up above and he fell heavily, the whole of the rope rattling down into the cave about us.
“Must have frayed on the edge of the rock,” he said, struggling to his feet. “Well, I suppose there’s nothing to do now, my friend, but sit down here quietly and wait for the end, for the water will be here presently, and there’s no other outlet. Certainly we might float up, but for my part I don’t think it’s worth while.”
So weary of life was I that I was tempted to agree with him; but I chanced to glance round the cave before I spoke, and my eye fell on the grotesque wooden gods grinning at our hopelessness as they nursed their stomachs serenely. A sudden idea struck me: why not make a raft of these wooden deities, and so float up on the rising flood? I mentioned my idea to Kahikatea, and he greeted it with a half-smile. Such a slight thing changes the course of mortals, and I believe it was the mere happiness of this idea that led us to combat what was at that time a great temptation to leave our bodies with that of the one we both loved, and go out into the starry sky with Zun to find her.
With a spontaneous movement we sprang up and set to work. I remembered that in the Place-of-Many-Chambers there was a deep gulf to fill, and consequently it would be some time before the water reached us.
So we took Tiki, the Progenitor of Mankind, and Tangaroa, the sea god, and Tawhirimatea, the god of storms, and Tanemahutu, and Rongomatane, and several others, and, laying them side by side on the floor of the cave, lashed them together with the rope. There was a store of torches in this as in all the other centres of the temple, and we set several going to light us in our work.
At length it was finished, and we laid the dead upon soft mats in the centre. I also placed on our raft the remainder of the torches, and an axe I found among the weapons. Then we sat and waited, Kahikatea at Hinauri’s head and I at her feet, both bearing torches in our hands. In time the water flooded in with gurgling sounds, and we rose on our raft of gods up through the opening in the roof of the mountain. When we had mounted some fifty feet I looked up between the dark crags that still towered above us and saw the stars in an indigo sky. Slowly we floated up with our fair burden until, upon a crag above us, we saw the silver moonlight glistening. In a few minutes we reached that crag, and found we were on the broad summit of the mountain temple, the twin peaks rising one on each side of us, their snowy summits standing up like sentinel spirits as the moonlight touched them in the clear, cold silence of the sky.
The raft now floated into a small oblong basin, and as the water rose in this I saw that it would flow out through an aperture beyond. Here, then, was our highest point. I stepped out on to the roof of the mountain temple. Kahikatea followed, and together we lifted our raft of gods with its burden out on to the rough rocks. As we did this the water escaped at the other end of the oblong basin, and I advanced with my torch to see what became of it. Beyond the aperture its surface shone in the moonlight, making a loop like a silver horseshoe; then it disappeared again into the rock at a spot not very far from where it issued.
I looked up at the southern peak, and then at Kahikatea, who stood beside me. “Yes,” he said, interpreting my thought, “there is a large lake up there. I came across it in my wanderings. It is no doubt the source of all this water.”
“The crystal lake that stands against the sky,” I said, slowly repeating Hinauri’s own words; “is there a way to it?” I glanced towards the raft as I spoke, and my voice was lowered almost to a whisper.
“Yes, there is a tunnel,” he replied softly. “Come! our raft is now a bier. Let us carry out her wish.”
So we severed Tiki, the Progenitor of Mankind, and Tanemahutu, the strong god of light, from the others, and, using them as a bier, passed up through a narrow but lofty tunnel in the direction of the Southern peak. After we had ascended some hundreds of feet by a fairly steep incline, we came out on the margin of a large circular lake held in by towering crags against the side of the peak. The clear waters were still and pure, as befitted that high solitude, and in the crystal depths were reflected the lights of Heaven. We descended to the shelving, sandy shore, and set our burden down in the shadows. Then, by mutual understanding, we went back and carried up the rest of the gods and the pinehearts and the axe. And Kahikatea himself hewed the gods in pieces to supply the wood for the funeral pyre.
I cannot linger over that last sad scene by the silent lake. I cannot write of Kahikatea’s last kiss of farewell on those pure maiden lips. I stood apart, bareheaded beneath the moon and stars, gazing my last upon the serene white face as, with hands crossed upon her bosom, and her shrouding hair drawn over
img326.jpg“WITH HANDS CROSSED UPON HER BOSOM, AND HER SHROUDING HAIR DRAWN OVER HER LIKE THE CURTAINS OF THE NIGHT, HINAURI LAY UPON THE PYRE.”
“WITH HANDS CROSSED UPON HER BOSOM, AND HER SHROUDING HAIR DRAWN OVER HER LIKE THE CURTAINS OF THE NIGHT, HINAURI LAY UPON THE PYRE.”
her like the curtains of the night, Hinauri lay upon the pyre. Then the pinehearts blazed up, the bones of the gods crackled and hissed, and soon the form of the one we had loved and lost was enveloped in a clear, glowing pyramid of flame, which burned up to heaven like the light of a great lamp set in a spot well sheltered from the wind.
* * * * *
I recall but dimly our leaving that crystal lake against the sky, and, in the grey light of dawn, reaching the Table Land below by ways difficult and dangerous. Suffice it to say that the ‘way of the spider’ by which Kahikatea had scaled that mountain was such that no man who valued his life would attempt it. How we passed in safety is a matter that I can only account for by the fact that we did not value our lives at all.
The yellow, rolling plain was deserted when we passed across it, and none greeted us from thewharésdotted about here and there. We stopped nowhere until we reached the further end of the Table Land, and there we turned to gaze for the last time on the mountain wall that shut out half the eastern sky. It was a grand and solemn tomb of things forgotten; stupendous, majestic, threatening in its gloom. But on the snowy peaks above there rested a flush of sunrise—a rosy pink which touched them with a pure and radiant glory as they stood against a background of white rifted clouds. Though the giants’ temple, with beetling brows, frowned darkly at us, it seemed as if the rosy peaks were showing the sun which path Hinauri, the Daughter of the Dawn, had taken.
A day’s march brought us to the place below the great cliff in the hillside, where we had seen the water spout up in a fountain, and where, subsequently, I had found my hat which had fallen into the abyss. The channel was dry, and the pool from which it issued had sunk several feet. I conjectured that if that underground stream could be followed, the explorer would come up against the great round stone, stopping the water’s flow somewhere in the bowels of the earth.
Two days’ march brought us to Kahikatea’s hut, where he put a few papers together, and announced his intention of journeying with me as far as Wakatu, and thence taking a boat for the north, and finally for England. When he informed me of this I looked at him inquiringly. He saw the question in my eyes, and said:
“Friend! my dreams have ended sadly, but the strange madness that drew me to this solitude was, I know now, full of hidden method. You heard what she said: ‘Hasten on the world.’ Warnock! if ever a man tried, by putting his shoulder to the wheel of time, to hasten the dawn of a brighter age, I am going to try. She told me many things that you did not hear and that I cannot tell you—things throwing light on the world’s failure in the past to grasp its opportunities—plans to pave the way for an inborn greatness of a coming generation. When you think of me, Warnock, think of me as one who is toiling incessantly with dull, heavy foundation stones at the bidding of a voice which to him is the sweetest thing in all the world.”
At Wakatu we found Grey and his wife, and together we helped one another through the story of Hinauri’s death. The Man-who-had-forgotten heard it as a thing far off; it touched him like the sadness of a dream, for eighteen years were struck from his life, and he remembered neither his own daughter nor the Daughter of the Dawn. But Miriam’s grief, the grief of such a mother for such a child, was beyond words. For many weeks after Kahikatea’s departure she lingered between life and death in Wakatu, and it was not until three months after the events narrated in the foregoing pages that I told Grey all I knew about his forgotten years, and sailed with them both to the Sounds—to the home and the garden where I had first met Crystal Grey. In due time they went home to claim the property, which, as I have somewhere stated, had been left to Miriam. I remained behind to take care of the old place until they returned a year later, when they refused to let me go.
Here, then, in the rustic retreat beneath the nut-trees, where the sweet influence of Crystal Grey seems to linger round me, I have spent the summer days in writing these pages. Now it is finished, and again I recall the words of my aged friend the chief and tohunga, Te Makawawa:
“O Son, the word of our ancient law is death to any who reveals the secrets that are hidden in the Brow of Ruatapu. The secret of Hinauri, the Daughter of the Dawn, the mystery of the Vile Tohungas of the Pit, the traditions of far time preserved in the heart of the great Rock—all, everything, is a death-blow returning on the head of him who reveals it. Yet, O Son of the Great Ocean of Kiwa, I, who was once the guardian priest of the temple of Hia and the hereditary curser of the Vile Ones of the Abyss of Huo, now show these things to you, for I am weary of climbing the snows of Ruahine, and long for rest and Tane’s living waters. The great Tohungas of the Earth have taught me in my sleep with words like the voice of the wind in the forest trees: ‘O tohunga of the Great Rock, the mystery of Hinauri is not for the Maori unless thou tell it first to the Sons of the Sea, but know that if thou tell it thou must die.’ Therefore, Son, I show it to you, for what though I fear the eye of the fierce Ngaraki, I fear not death. Friend! perchance, when I have descended by the sacred Pohutukawa root, you, too, will tire of life and tell this thing to your brethren; ‘but know that if thou tell it thou must die.’ ”
I am content that it should be so. Last night I dreamed that I wandered astray in the forest, and that is an omen that no Maori could misinterpret. Perchance it is the shadow cast before a welcome event, in terms of the Maori lore so dear to my heart. And now as I write, another and more striking omen is vouchsafed me in the same quaint terms. A ray from the golden sun of the autumn evening slants through the broken screen of yellowing leaves and falls upon the woodwork of my rough table placed against the hazel stems. Suddenly a little green lizard runs from a bundle of papers I have but lately lifted from the ground and placed on the corner of the table. It reaches the sunlight and pauses, moving its head strangely in the air. In another moment its bright little eyes meet mine, and for some seconds it remains motionless. A cloud comes before the sun, the ray fades, and the little creature wriggles off the table on to the ground, where I hear its faint rustle among the leaves. Well I know this is a call to Reinga, thence to the living waters of Tane, and thence to the bright Beyond—a summons, clear and sweet, to the Living Waters of Tane, where mortals fling off their garments of clay, and, plunging deep, renew their strength. Oh! let it be soon. How often have I longed, with the great chief who now clings to Life in the Light, to throw my body headforemost into the jaws of Darkness, that I, with him, may gain the sparkling stars, and look into her eyes once more!
THE END OF WANAKI’S NARRATIVE.
(A letter from Aké Aké Rangitane, the son of Ngaraki, to the Editor.28)O Friend of the Maori Race,—These are my last words to you, for while you remain here among the chills of winter, I go to the land which laughs beneath the southern sun. My experience of the will of the Great Tohungas of the Earth teaches me that it will be obeyed concerning the record of Wanaki. When you have done my bidding and the book is made, then you will remain at peace. I send to you with this a letter that has been given to me by the Pakeha Kahikatea. Set it at the end of Wanaki’s record, but do not write the Pakeha’s other name, for it may be that he has the spirit of one of the Great Tohungas of the Earth whose names aretapu. When your task is done, fear not that the fate of Wanaki will overtake you. Now I go, but you remain. Follow me not with your thoughts. When I see the book that is made the love of my heart will flow towards you like a mountain stream. There is no Maori word to tell of “gratitude,” but, O Pakeha, in the Maori heart there are feelings which cannot be hidden behind a word. My letter to you is ended. Farewell.
(A letter from Aké Aké Rangitane, the son of Ngaraki, to the Editor.28)
O Friend of the Maori Race,—These are my last words to you, for while you remain here among the chills of winter, I go to the land which laughs beneath the southern sun. My experience of the will of the Great Tohungas of the Earth teaches me that it will be obeyed concerning the record of Wanaki. When you have done my bidding and the book is made, then you will remain at peace. I send to you with this a letter that has been given to me by the Pakeha Kahikatea. Set it at the end of Wanaki’s record, but do not write the Pakeha’s other name, for it may be that he has the spirit of one of the Great Tohungas of the Earth whose names aretapu. When your task is done, fear not that the fate of Wanaki will overtake you. Now I go, but you remain. Follow me not with your thoughts. When I see the book that is made the love of my heart will flow towards you like a mountain stream. There is no Maori word to tell of “gratitude,” but, O Pakeha, in the Maori heart there are feelings which cannot be hidden behind a word. My letter to you is ended. Farewell.
A letter from Miriam Grey to Sir… Bart.,… St. James’ Chambers, London.Dear Kahikatea,—It is with feelings of deep regret that I write to tell you of the death of our dear friend Wanaki. The circumstances of his end were very strange. It was a night when a thunderstorm was brewing, and Wanaki, instead of going to bed, put on his mackintosh and went out to look at the storm. But it did not break till near midnight, and then there was only a single vivid flash, followed by a peal of thunder directly overhead. In the morning, finding our dear friend’s room unoccupied, we searched the garden and the plantations, and at length discovered him lying dead on the grass at the foot of one of the great bluegums. That he had been struck by lightning while standing with his back to the tree was evident, for the grass where he had stood was burnt, and his watch chain was fused. But the strange thing that I have to tell you is this: On the trunk of the tree against which Wanaki had been standing, the lightning had left a mark which is evidently a duplicate tracery of the course the electric fluid took through his body, but at the same time—this is no woman’s fancy—I recognised it as an exact picture on a small scale of the principal ways of the ancient temple, from the marble cave to the foundations. I say again, this is not my fancy, for if anyone could recognise the diagrammatic representation of the spiral tunnels and spaces of that ancient place it would surely be myself. Is this another instance of the strange magic of that terrible priesthood of the ages, which has now left its sign to show that Wanaki has suffered the penalty for revealing the secrets of their temple, or is it capable of a simpler explanation? Is it possible that the lightning followed some occult line of least resistance through that temple of the ages—that mysterious epitome of the universe, the human body, and left the track of its passage burnt in on the tree behind? But I cannot do more than merely suggest the mystery of this exact correspondence, for both my husband and myself are heartbroken at the loss of our dear friend, the story of whose snow-white hair and gentle, weary face, you already know.I will not write more now except to add, as ever, that my heart is with you in your work—with you as constantly as my thoughts are with her whom we love, and as earnestly as my prayers are with those of all women who stand in the “Brow of Ruatapu” and raise their arms of longing to the heaven where greatness waits to be revealed on earth.Yours sincerely,MIRIAM GREY.
A letter from Miriam Grey to Sir… Bart.,… St. James’ Chambers, London.
Dear Kahikatea,—It is with feelings of deep regret that I write to tell you of the death of our dear friend Wanaki. The circumstances of his end were very strange. It was a night when a thunderstorm was brewing, and Wanaki, instead of going to bed, put on his mackintosh and went out to look at the storm. But it did not break till near midnight, and then there was only a single vivid flash, followed by a peal of thunder directly overhead. In the morning, finding our dear friend’s room unoccupied, we searched the garden and the plantations, and at length discovered him lying dead on the grass at the foot of one of the great bluegums. That he had been struck by lightning while standing with his back to the tree was evident, for the grass where he had stood was burnt, and his watch chain was fused. But the strange thing that I have to tell you is this: On the trunk of the tree against which Wanaki had been standing, the lightning had left a mark which is evidently a duplicate tracery of the course the electric fluid took through his body, but at the same time—this is no woman’s fancy—I recognised it as an exact picture on a small scale of the principal ways of the ancient temple, from the marble cave to the foundations. I say again, this is not my fancy, for if anyone could recognise the diagrammatic representation of the spiral tunnels and spaces of that ancient place it would surely be myself. Is this another instance of the strange magic of that terrible priesthood of the ages, which has now left its sign to show that Wanaki has suffered the penalty for revealing the secrets of their temple, or is it capable of a simpler explanation? Is it possible that the lightning followed some occult line of least resistance through that temple of the ages—that mysterious epitome of the universe, the human body, and left the track of its passage burnt in on the tree behind? But I cannot do more than merely suggest the mystery of this exact correspondence, for both my husband and myself are heartbroken at the loss of our dear friend, the story of whose snow-white hair and gentle, weary face, you already know.
I will not write more now except to add, as ever, that my heart is with you in your work—with you as constantly as my thoughts are with her whom we love, and as earnestly as my prayers are with those of all women who stand in the “Brow of Ruatapu” and raise their arms of longing to the heaven where greatness waits to be revealed on earth.
Yours sincerely,MIRIAM GREY.
THE END.
1karakia] Philosophical and meditative hymns used as incantations.—Editor.
2pa] Apais a fortified village, a stronghold.
3Kahikatea… my friend the Forest Tree] The Maoris regard the Kahikatea, or white pine, with much poetical feeling.—Editor.
4rangatira] Gentleman.
5the green lizard that will summon me to Reinga] The Maori believes that when the little green lizard looks at him meaningly it is a summons for him to depart for the spirit world within three days.—Editor.
6tiki] An ornament of jade fashioned in the image of Tiki, the first man, and worn round the neck.—Editor.
7white-winged taniwhas] The taniwha of the Maoris is a mythical monster of the deep. When they first saw the Pakehas’ ships they set them down as taniwhas.—Editor.
8kohutukutu] The wild fuchsia—the only deciduous native tree.—Editor.
9wharekura] An ancient Temple of Mysteries.—Editor.
10Zun the Terrible] Wanaki has a note here to the effect that, although the Maori’s pronunciation of this name was ‘Tunu,’ he prefers to preserve it in what he avers was its original form,viz., ‘Zun.’—Editor.
11matakite] Clairvoyant.
12tapu] Sacred.
13its spirit had fled beyond Wai Ora Tane] The bourne from which no traveller returns.—Editor.
14matakite] A seer—a clairvoyant.—Editor.
15mana] Power, prestige.—Editor.
16kumara] The kumara is a kind of sweet potato.
17Taranaki glowed… thundering Tongariro] According to ancient legend Tongariro and Taranaki, standing together, were rival volcanoes for the hand of a smaller mountain near by, named Pihanga. They fought, hurling great rocks at each other, until at last Taranaki withdrew to the seashore, where he now stands.
18Whaka ariki] A battle-cry.
19heitiki] A small image of polished jade, held very sacred.
20waiariki] A warm spring.
21taepo] Devil—the hobgoblin of the night.—Editor.
22weka] The Maori hen—a rare ventriloquist.
23Makutu] Bewitchment.
24crying‘Utu! Utu!’]Utuis payment, compensation for injury.—Editor.
25marae] The open space.
26utu] Payment, compensation—an eye for an eye.
27Upokokohua!] “Boil your head.” All Maori curses relate to cooking or giving in cookery, to boiling or being boiled.—Editor.
28This letter, with its enclosure from Miriam Grey to Kahikatea, reached me just as the task of editing this work was finished.—Editor.
The Hodder & Stoughton edition (London, n.d.) was consulted for most of the changes listed below.
Minor spelling variances (e.g.lovelight/love-light, nut-trees/nut trees, etc.), the inconsistent italicization of foreign words, and redundant footnotes (matakite, utu) have been preserved.
Plain text edition only: note markers are given in [square] brackets.
Alterations to the text:
Convert footnotes to endnotes.
Punctuation: quotation mark pairings/nestings, missing commas, etc.
[Chapter IV]
Change (“Tanawhalives there,” he said, “it is tapu. The Maori) toTaniwha.
[Chapter XII]
“Arrived at a village on the coast line nearHokitiki” toHokitika.
[Chapter XIII]
“An easel andpallettereclined against the hedge” topalette.
[Chapter XXI]
“the narrowing gulf could be seen thegiant’swindow” togiants’.
[Chapter XXIII]
“descend the marble steps when his controlled emotionsbrakeloose” tobroke.
[Chapter XXV]
“Yet itsemeda trifle strange to me that he should not” toseemed.
[End of text]