TARAPOUNAMU.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXVII, Issue 20490, 15 February 1930, Page 1 (Supplement)

TARAPOUNAMU.

GREENSTONE SPEAR-POINT.

BY WANDA,

One day toward the waning of last year, when the wild scud raced high across the sky and the sun, released only momentarily from the dark cloud caves, shone then with intensified brightness, I travelled between Te Whaiti and Ruatahuna. As I climbed the road towards Tarapounamu I wondered which of the many sharp hills, just green spear-points, had given the name to the place, and then I bethought) me of my friends oil the saddle' and decided to turn in there.

The dogs barked, and as I stepped on to the verandah a bright little face appeared at the window. Then its possessoi opened the door and invited me to enter. The old woman, not so old either when I think of it, was in bed sick and did not remember me; but immediately asked if I would have a cup of tea. On my assenting two little girls ran, and I followed, into the kitchen, where, in the open fireplace, we soon had a fire going. The wind raged outside, and while we waited for the kettle to boil I sat on a box at the fireside. They went to school, at Te Whaiti. and so we were able to talk to each other, but they were very shy. Suddenly the dogs barked again, and while I hoped that it might be someone interesting, the girls darted outside and as quickly returned. " Who is it? J ' I inquired, and one shy little maiden murmured, " Wiremu." My heart gladdened, though I did not ask further to prolong the pleasure of anticipation: but "Oh! I hope it is ran my thought, and, as a half-caste came through the door, I saw that it was , my old friend, Billy Jackson, in whose company I had spent a vastly entertaining evening more than two years before listening to his stories of the day's hunting, of which I, alas, having very little Maori, understood but little.

A Teller of Good Stories. That they were good stories I could easily see by the appreciative laughter of his half-dozen listeners, and though they had brought only one pig home they must have had encounters with at least a dozen more. Yes! I was told on recounting the incident later, Jackson tells a good story, but unfortunately has little English.

Well, I was pleased to find, as he advanced with outstretched hand, that he remembered me, for had I not met him in these surroundings again I should not have known him. I had remembered him as a big burly man of middle-age; but here was a strapping, well-dressed young follow. Ho had been working in the new mill, he said,* for more than a year, '' and very good too," he remarked with pride as he told me what he earned.

He was pleased that I had noticed his improved appearance. The old life was good for the " pelly," as he termed it; but too much sleep. Now, plenty of work, plenty of kai. and " to good punk. The Billy Jackson I had known had been wont just to draw his rug around him and stretch out on the floor just where he had been sitting all evening.

The kettle boiled. I made the tea and poured him out a cup while he found the bread and butter, and as we sat with our backs against the mantelpiece he told me such news of the place as interested me. His English, too, had improved I noticed. I rose to go and said my gOodbves. He also was going on, I found, so we went out together to get our horses.

The Story. The wind still raged, and as I looked round in farewell on this far-away place with which, for a second time, 1 had made a brief acquaintance. I murmured " Tarapounamu," and with an inquiring look at my companion said, "The greenstone spear-point?" As ho pointed to a dead rata tree across the road and tried to make himself heard above the wind [ realised that he had a different interpretation from thd one 1 knew. " Tell me the story," I said, and this is ihe story he told, with much questioning on my part and patient explanation on his.

The man who lived in these hills in times past had an unfaithful wjfe, who ran away from him. One day he was spearing pigeons in that rata tree and the greenstone point of his spear, insecurely fastened, became loosened from the spear and stayed in the pigeon's breast. It flew away, and the man, who was much vexed at the loss of the greenstone point, spread the news of his loss far and wide over New Zealand, and asked for its return.

One day his wife, who had fled to Whakatane, was gathering wood for the tire, and as she nearcd the kahikitea trees sho found a sick pigeon, which died in her hands as she gathered it up. In its breast was a greenstono spear-point, and as she withdrew it she recognised it as her husband's. With that " love came back into her heart." These last were Wiremu's own words, and he uttered them with his, two hands over his heart, quite in the best, manner of an operatic tenor. The wife straightway made her way back along the forest tracks, through the swift rivers and up the steep hills until she came to that place, and her husband forgave her and they were united again.

The Relic Lost. <! And is that true?" said I. Wiremu's face, which had been all aglow with pleasure in his storytelling, became instantly very serious as he solemnly and earnestly answered " It is true."

Tho wind still raged and stormed round the heights of Tarapounamu. Our horses impatiently pulled at their reins. Wircmu held his hat and I hold mine, \vhilo our big oil-coats flapped round our legs. Up aloft the branches of giant matais swayed and tossed.

"Where is the spear-point now?" I asked, and was told that a Huatahuna man had hidden it somewhere at. Mataatua with two hei-tikis, and now they could not. bo found.

" Perhaps they will turn up again like the rorotangi," I said, and by his smile and his mention of Tainui 1 could see that he knew that story too. \ I said good-bye to Wiremu. for he was going along the ridge to see some cattle 011 his own place, and theu took my way down that loveliest of roads into Ruatahuna, past Heipipi and past Ngaputahi, where round the old wharo that was once Elsdon Best's the roses still bloom.