(THE TALE OF, THE TQITOL

Auckland Star, Volume LXIII, Issue 263, 5 November 1932, Page 3 (Supplement)

(THE TALE OF, THE TQITOL

/ . : jfßy Elsa Flatell, "P.O. Box 313, Hawera; ago 15*). In the days of long ago there was a Maori pa <in ahilliop,,"aiid at the foot of the hill was a reedy swamp, crossed at pne part by a rough; bridge l of tree trunks embedded in the soil. .Across this one the warriors from the billtop pa went marching away to battle, pinging wild,war songs as they went.

The Maori maidens came down the hillside behind them, dancing and singing songs of farewell They were lighthearted and hopeful, confident that the warriors would return victorious. Only one was different from all the rest, and stood apart sadly; and not only in this was she different, for her skin was not dark like that of the other maidens. It was white; and her long, rippling hair was white, too, for she was a Puhi maiden. j

.As she stood sadly gazing after the warriors a handsome young man stood forth and 'called to her from the other side of the<iwamp. He was the son of the chief, and he was the betrothed of the Puhi maid. f

' "Toi!" hie called to her. "Do not forget me, beloved! We shall be back at sunset, if we are .victorious —and we shall be. Good-bye, beloved!"

"I shall wait for you here, beside the bridge," Toi replied. "I .shall not stir till you return. And she stood watching as the warriors disappeared into the thick bush. Her heart was heavy as she saw them,go; the other Maori maidens laughed and talked as they returned to the pa, but Toi remained alone. She could not feel certain that the warriors of her tribe would be victorious; even supposing they were, might not her lover be hurt—killed, perhaps?

"He surely will not be," thought Toi. "If lie were, I should die, too. I shall wait here until the warriors return, and then I shall know if "he is safe. Yes, I will etay, though they return net tonight nor for many nights.?'

So she waited through the day, refusing, at: the entreaties of those who came to her, to return to the pa, or even to touch tie food they brought. It was a long, weary day, but it passed. Toi saw the sun sink slowly towards the west, yet the warriors came not. Slowly, slowly moved-the sun, until it sank at last among the trees, a ball of bloodred fire, and the warriors came not. The light faded and the stars began to peep, yet there was no sound o£ triumphant shouts from the dark trees. The laughter and singing from the pa were hushed, and Toi waited. Only the low crooning of a Maori mother who sang a lullaby to her brown baby, and the sudden, mournful cry of the morepork broke the stillness; no shout of victors returning. The darkness deepened, and fires glowed red in the pa on the hilltop; the old tobunga commenced _ a weird, wailing chant, Bounding eerily to Toi's cars. The chanting ceased at length and the glow of the fires died away; but the warriors came not.

When the grey dawn broke above the bush, Toi still waited beside the bridge, sleepless and unwearied.

The sun came up in clouds of crimson, and suddenly a cry broke the forest still-, ncss. Next moment a party of Maori warriors came through the trees.

Toi started up; Yes, they were victorious! But —

"Rangi! where is-he?" cried Toi. He was taken prisoner, they told her, and she sank weeping on the ground. TMstressed, they tried to comfort her. At first she would not listen to their words, but suddenly she started up.

"He will come again," she 6aid. "I will wait here till he comes."

They tried to persuade her to return to the pa, but she refused, and they dared not carry her away against her ■will, for the Puhi maidens were sacred. They built her a hut beside the bridge, and brought her food each day, but she passed the time in silence, waiting.

All through many', weeks she was faithfully tended by the other Maori maidens, who were grieved to see her growing day by day paler and sadder.' One day, as they were bringing her food, they saw a young Maori man come slowly from among the trees. Toi leaped at once to her feet. "P>angi!" she cried, as she started forward. Then she fell fainting beside the swamp. It was indeed Rangi, who had escaped from the pa, of the enemy and had travelled a weary way alone. He hurried forward now, but he was too late. Toi, worn out by long watching, lay lifeless.

They buried her there, just where she had fallen, among the rushes at the swamp-edge. Rangi, whose hope of seeing

Toi once again had nerved him to make his escape, was almost heart-broken, and daily he came to visit Toi's grave. Almost a year passed by,, and Rangi, coming down to Toi's grave, saw a strange plant growing up among the rushes—a plant with slender, sword-like leaves. Up into the fresh air it daily grew, sending up a long stem with something at the top wrapped tightly in green. This something grew ever larger, and soon a white, Silky substance showed through the green wrapping. One day, when Rangi came, down the hillside, he thought he saw someone standing among the rushes—someone with long white hair, which waved in the light breeze. His heart leapt with! incredulous wonder, and he ran down quickly to the swamp. "Toi! Toi!" he called. "Surely it is not—" No, it was not Toi, but the silky something that had pushed aside its green wrapping, and, as it waved in the breeze, looked like the white hair of the Puhi maiden, after whom the Maoris called the new plant the toitoi.