In the Grip of the Hawk

‘There, Terence, you must make the best of it,’ said George, laughing. ‘Unless, indeed, you don’t feel inclined to chum with meany longer.’ Terence gave him an eloquent look and tried to thank Colonel Haughton. But he could only press the old man’s hand, so George threw an arm round his shoulders and led him away. Together they stretched themselves under a great tree, just as they had done on that other night when Terence had walked into the grip of the Hawk. The flames died down on the summit of the hill—the Pali of Death was The blazing stars of the south looked down upon the battlefield, still strewn with relics of the fight. Here and therein the bivouac some wounded wretch stirred un­easily and groaned in his troubled slumber. But deep in the fern the friends slept the peaceful sleep of healthy, happy youth— youth which can forget past sorrow as easily as it dreams of coming joy and between them lay what George had called ‘God’s Providence’ —the greenstone mere of Tum a tau eng a .The Doom o f the House o f TeT u k i 243 the end PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN AT THE PRESS OK THE PUBLISHERS.
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