Pohulukawa

Dominion, Volume 29, Issue 133, 29 February 1936, Page 23

Pohulukawa

T ITTLESThad always been different from the other Maori children. She had big, very big browny eyes, and her hair—red, dark, dull-red in colourhad reached" down to her knees in glorious curling abundance before she was six years old. ' Where the other children were big and brown and strong, she was tin) and delicate, her skin almost pale, and her features were chiselled and line. Littlest bad never been known to be afraid of anything She would pen'etrate into caves and grottoes and bushy depths where even the braveswarriors feared to tread. But most of all she loved lire. She did not know fear of the dancing,' scarlet flames with their beckoning arms—she felt a longing to play with them. But her mother was careful. "Come away, Little One!” she would say when the wee thing drew too close, and reluctantly Littlest would creep away. The plains stretched far away into the distance below where Littlest’s people dwelled. Littlest loved the plains, with the swaying, whispering yellow grass, and she would lie in it so that no one could see her—lie and lie in it for hours.

It was there that the little N’gati-Turehu people found her. They, the strange descendants of the Dimly Seen, came from the shadows of the bush to play, poking and thrusting and jumping through the grass as they hurried forward.

They poked their faces through at the drowsy Little Oue as she lay sun-basking. She had never seen the Turehu before, hut she knew them when she saw them, for she had heard her people tell of them, of their fairness and their strange blue eyes. ' ' ' At first she had been afraid, but they were so tiny, so lovely, aud yet so droll in their friendliness that she could not help liking them. All the summer Littlest crept down into the plains to play with them. It was in the early autumn that the fire came. It rolled in great, billowing clouds of white by day and dancing ruby by night over the yellowness of the dry plains, creeping nearer and nearer the homes of the nervous Maori people. “Do not go to the plains, Littlest.” her mother warned her. and for a while Littlest heeded her, but one day the Turehu called her so persistently that she had to go. “Just to the edge of the bush . . .” she said, “where the trees meet the gruss.” . . The Ngati-Turebu came hopping and gambolling gleefully to meet her. "Come and play!” they called, and, forgetting everything. Littlest played and played-until evening came. The smell of the fire had been hanging in the air for a day or two. aud at last Littlest became aware that it was thicker, closer, and nearer. But it was a hot. sweet smell, and she liked it. She tossed back her hair aud laughed, and the Turehu joined hands and danced about her in glee. Thicker ( and thicker grew the. smoke, and —————— ———————— | Qt j ast there, came little, dancing, becKoulng witchy flames. Littlest threw out her arms and danced to meet them, and the Turehu danced after her. “She its not afraid of anything. She is our Queen!” they cried, hopping and skipping. Joyfully Littlest skipped to the advancing flames. Joyously she snatched a brand of tall grasses, and held the burning things aloft, twirling about in a strange dance. Suddenly a big y flame made a stealthy movement forward, and enveloped Littlest from head to foot. Screaming in glee, the Turehu sprang about her. She was tall now —tall and glorious in this cloak, tall as her mother had wanted her to be —and a fit queen of the Ngati-Ture-■o hu. But alas! suddenly the cloak of flame fled in the midst of the advancing smoke, and quickly, the little dancing flames turned and followed its retreat. The' Turehu - halted in dismay. Their Queen, their lovely leader, their playmate, where was she? They fell on their knees on the ground and there, in the smouldering remains of the fire, was Littlest s glorious red hair. Sadlv thev arose, and tragically they danced around it, chanting a weird little song. And as they chanted a small tree arose from the spot and slowly vet steadily it grew, until it stood triumphantly above the chanting Turehu. Then they stopped, and as they finished red blossoms burst forth from a,, the branches —glorious and red as Littlest’s hair itself. • The Turehu pranced and chuckled with delight, then they scrambled up into branches and started, to play once more.

“Our. Queen I” they cried, swinging to and fro, "our playmate, our leader!” ■ ■ ■

But as for Littlest’s people—they had fled from the fire, and when they returneaiier mother searched vainly.' “iouwill never-find her I the Maoris tol'd her, “she always loved fire and the great fire has taken her!” One day the mother came upon the flowering tree on the plain. She •stopped to gasp at the beauty of its red blooms, but her eyes were dull and she could not see the faces of the Turehu peering down at her.

A.' The people of Littlest’s tribe came to admire the tree, and they called it “Pobutakawa.” but to the Ngati-Turehu it is their Queen still, and one day if you are quick enough you might see one of the strange wee people peering down, and perhaps laughing at you.—KIWI.