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"
Glenarvan
,
it
is
useless
.
Look
!
"
And
then
they
all
perceived
the
inexplicable
change
that
had
taken
place
in
the
movements
of
the
Maories
.
Their
pursuit
had
suddenly
stopped
.
The
ascent
of
the
mountain
had
ceased
by
an
imperious
command
.
The
natives
had
paused
in
their
career
,
and
surged
like
the
sea
waves
against
an
opposing
rock
.
All
the
crowd
,
thirsting
for
blood
,
stood
at
the
foot
of
the
mountain
yelling
and
gesticulating
,
brandishing
guns
and
hatchets
,
but
not
advancing
a
foot
.
Their
dogs
,
rooted
to
the
spot
like
themselves
,
barked
with
rage
.
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What
stayed
them
?
What
occult
power
controlled
these
savages
?
The
fugitives
looked
without
understanding
,
fearing
lest
the
charm
that
enchained
Kai-Koumou
's
tribe
should
be
broken
.
Suddenly
John
Mangles
uttered
an
exclamation
which
attracted
the
attention
of
his
companions
.
He
pointed
to
a
little
inclosure
on
the
summit
of
the
cone
.
"
The
tomb
of
Kara-Tete
!
"
said
Robert
.
"
Are
you
sure
,
Robert
?
"
said
Glenarvan
.
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"
Yes
,
my
Lord
,
it
is
the
tomb
;
I
recognize
it
.
"
Robert
was
right
.
Fifty
feet
above
,
at
the
extreme
peak
of
the
mountain
,
freshly
painted
posts
formed
a
small
palisaded
inclosure
,
and
Glenarvan
too
was
convinced
that
it
was
the
chief
's
burial
place
.
The
chances
of
their
flight
had
led
them
to
the
crest
of
Maunganamu
.
Glenarvan
,
followed
by
the
rest
,
climbed
to
the
foot
of
the
tomb
.
A
large
opening
,
covered
with
mats
,
led
into
it
.