FICTION

New Zealand Mail, Issue 1678, 27 April 1904, Page 3

FICTION

A FIGHT TO A FINISH. ■: v..-: ■ .. - •- -.. .. A STORY OF THE MAORI WAR.

BY OWEN HALL.

ALL RIGHTS’RESERVED. CHAPTER VII. A GLIMPSE OF THE WAIKATO. I was "wondering when the real fun of tliQ business was going to begin as I sat outside my tent one bright morning engaged in .cleaning ray rifle. That rifle was a particular favourite of mine, because I had gradually taught myself by a great deal of practice, to shoot better with it than any other man m our corps, unless it were Dick himself, and he didn’t carry a rifle at all now that he was an officer. Dick carried a revolver and a sword,- and he had become a good shot with the pistol, though I flattered myself I could still beat him at that, but I think I had learned to prefer the light rifle, which was the regular weapon of the Rangers, and in their hands had already done a good deal of service. I was just looking it over, and admiring the polish I had put upon it by much hard rubbing when I heard Dick’s voice behind me.

“Ha’loa, Jack, is that you?” ho exclaimed, “Do you feel up to a long tramp through the bush to-day ?” “Something new, Dick?” I asked, looking up from my work with interest for. something in the tone of 'his voice made me fancy it might somehow be the answer to the question I had just been asking myself—“lf it’s anything well outside the lines I should like it first-rate. I think I caii do my share now .alongside most'of our fellows.”

•"That’s just it, Jack,” he'raid quietly, “the captain was just suggesting I should pick you for orne to go, but as you only came off a pretty hard week’s trampling last night he thought you might like a bit. of a rest.” - “Oh, never mind that. Dick,” I said, a good deal gratified to think that our captain, who was none too ready to praise any of us, should have thought of me for a special service. -“If there’s any fun going I .shouldn’t like to be left out or: it. . Of course you’re going yourself?”

"Oil, yes. I’m to go, with twenty picked men. Pm just going round now to pick them out, so I thought I’d give you the first chance. I knew you’d (like it if you felt fit.” ‘ “As fit as a fiddle, I>iok, if it’s anything bettor than seeing that .these ■"Tommies” don’t get shot while they’re road-making—that’s growing just a trifle monotonous, you know.” All right. Jack, thns is better than that,-or-at any rate it’ll be a change. WoT. be starting about two, so I should advise you to turn in for a bit. You ‘Won’t be wanted 'for any duty till then.” Dick moved on to where a knot of our fellows were gathered round a gun-car-riage, discussing some question with interest. I -looked after him ais ho went. Yes, there couldn’t be a doubt of it—the leuS’u two months or so had done a good deoil to change Dick as welil as myself. In his ease, -I suppose, it was the habit of command, and the responsibility of it all that had done it, and made him seean ever so much older than he had been when I knew him first. The shook of his father’s murder had something to do ■with it, too, I suppose, but I had noticed it more after he was gazetted an officer, and I didn’t wonder at it. Como to think of it, Dick was very young to be put in -command, as he constantly was. of men who were, for the most part, older than himself, and perhaps it was lucky lie looked years older than he was, after all. He was just os good a fellow as ever, and I am sure he was the most popular officer we had, for' though we were all proud of the captain, he was stiff iand dignified compared with Dick: and yet nobody ever took liberties, or forgot when we were on service, together that Dick- was in command. ' I had seen most of my service under Dick’s orders, and I had been in luck. Bow he had learned it I don’t know, but we never seemed to make blunders, or get into any messes when he was in oommand. We liad done a great part of the. advance scouting, and neatly all the work of guarding the survey parties laying out the road, and though we had had -a few skirmish as we had never once been taken by surprise, and we hadn’t lost a man. For*the last week I had been under the command of our other lieutenant, and I had noticed the difference at once. He was a "good man too, and years older than Dick; but he had At Dick’s luck, or Iris instinct for knowing how to do things. We had had two men wounded, and had very nearly let a party of natives through, aridi yet we. had been harder worked than I ever had been with Dick. I- had often thought of what Dick had said before the'*-corps was formed at first about the being half the" battle#began to ,thup;l,they were that at leastA ; anyhow Diok was this, job;in his own hands, whatever at was—that;was a oomforfc, and I was fairly well eon tent to wait till wo bad Started to

find out what it was to be. I knew we should hear then, for it was Dick’s way always to let us know what we had on hand, and I’m sure that had a good deal to do with the way the men worked. Everybody did his best, I think, when we were out with him, and what was more,' . everybody made the bast of things. I gave my rifle a final rub, and as I did so thought with a comfort.able feeling of satisfaction that it'was something to have done as well as I had done myself in less than three months. It would be something for my next home letter, though I was afraid mother would think it a terrible thing that my father’s son should be fighting as a private soldier. Well that couldn’t be helped, and after Gill I began to think it suited me fully as well as learning to be a farmer, which vas what I expected to do when I left home. By two o’clock we were ready for a start. Dick had been particular, and as I glanced along the little line drawn up for the captain’s inspection before we went, I thought to myself that I coulldn’t have suggested any names of men I should have preferred to have alongside me if we should get into any trouble. Every man had his tight roll of dark-coloured blanket strapped across his shoulder, his 'little provision bag over his other shoulder, and, of course his ammunition belt. Each was dressed in the very unpretentious uniform of cap. loose, dark-coloured overshirt of woollen materiail, drawn in at the waist with a belt , dark trousers .and .leathern gaiters,, and each of us carried his short, handy rifle. The captain was talking to Dick as they came out of--the headquarters tent together, and I caught his last words as they came near our Little party. - “Tho general has sent word that a report 'has just come in that they mean to raid the farms .along the: Manakau, so you’ll have to find out, if possible', whether they are in any force lower down the river—.they won’t try it, of course, up here, where there are so many troops.” “And if there should be, sir?’’ “Use your own judgment as to details, of course, but if possible warn the nearest detachments of volunteers along the line.” •

The captain looked along our lino and nodded.

“Well, men,” he said, “I have no doubt you’ Hl give a good account, of yourselves. Steady and smart are the words.” Ho touched his cap as we saluted and turned away. . • Wo parsed tho camp of the regular soldiers, and as we passed wo could see the men off duty looking after ns. I had seen that look often before; a little contemptuous, and yet more than a little envious, as if they handily knew what to make of the long, easy, swinging step with which we covered the ground—so different from their own, and yet so much faster. We weren’t much like them, certainly. We kept fairly in fine while we were on the road, it’s true, but we., had none of the stiffness about u-s even then which madewthe redcoats look so fine on parade, and so awkward in the bush; .and when we were once fairly off we very soon gave up even that small attempt to look like soldiers. Our course lay straight across the open country for a point about two miles off, where the forest cam,© clown to a broad stream that ran across the level, and then rose in a long ridge that ran towards tlho north-west, which, as I saw at once, would take us towards the Waikato a good many miles nearer its mouth. We had fallen into a double line, with Dick himself leading, and after c, quick march of half an hour we halted at the stream to got a drink before facing the forest slope.

“You have about the best ears of the party, I think, Jack,” Dick said to me, as wo were getting ready to go on again. “Wo might want them by and bye, P fancy, when it begins to grow dark, so you shad better keep beside me.”

It was a fact which I had only found out since I had been in the Rangers that my hearing -really was a good deal more keen than most of the others, and I tlhink it had even improved since Dick had encouraged me to use it as much as possible when wo were in the forest, so the order was no surprise either to me or the rest of our party, who were quite accustomed to Dick’s way of making eadh man do, as. far. as possible, what he seemed able to do best. We mounted the long wooded slope for some time in silence. For a New Zealand forest the travelling was good, though anywhere else, outside of a tropical jungle, it would perhaps have been considered almost impassable for a body of men. We had every one of us grown so used to the dense undergrowth of low, and sometimes pricMy, bushes and ferns that reached our knees, and of supple-jacks and other creepers, that hung in festoons from the branches, that it delayed us leas than could possibly have been expected. Dick, whoi led the way, was, besides, about the very best hand I had over soon at choosing the easiest way of getting through, or of avoiding the worst places, so that wo made our way steadily, if not very fast, till wo reached the top of the ridge. It was better there and as the” afternoon was evidently beginning to close in we made what basto wo could along the open forest on the top of the range, that we might, if possible, get to the end o‘f it, and reach the other slope towards the liver. volley before it grew Quite dark.

I doubt if Dick had spoken hallif a dozen sentences during that hard two hours’ march, but at last he 'halted at the foot of a huge rata tree which seemed to grow at somewhere near the very highest point of the ridge. “I think you fellows must all be in want of a few minutes’ rest,” he said, as he threw himself on the comparatively soft, mossy ground at the foot of the gaint. “Just quarter to six,” he added, looking at his watch. “I don’t think a short rest, and a mouthful of something to eat, willl do any of you any harm.”

Everybody felt that tho idea was a good one, and in two minutes we were seated in a half circle round him eat- j ing some of -the stock of food we had j brought. Dick glanced upward at the j great branches of the tree that tower- I ed above him a hundred and forty feet, j “Yes,” he said, “I believe this must' be tho very one I was aiming fo>r. I’ve seen it often when I was riding across ; the Kanaka, Jack. Don’t you remember my mentioning that it was the tallest treo on tlho range for a mile or two?i I’vo often wanted to sec what it was j like close at hand.” I

- “You must have good eyes to see it as far off as this is,” I said. “How far do you suppose wo are back from the Karaka now ?”

“Four or five miles. I suppose, at least; -but this ridge stands high, and about Christmas time I can tell you, When this tree Is covered with its crimson flowers, it is something to look at with th-e sunlight on, it.”

“I daresay it might,” I said; “anyhow, by the look of it, there wonl’t bo much more sunlight on it to-night. It looks ais if it might be ia trifle dark under those trees after nightfall. I hope it’ll bo clear of supple-jacks.” “Well, I suppose you fellows want to know where we’re going to, and What job it is that we’re after?” Every man of us drew a little closer | to him as he spoke. ‘Well, you see. it’s i like this. It seems the General has: hoard —through some of the friendly ! natives, I suppose—that a big war party j means to cress the bush and get -inside the lines. Of course they could do lots of mischief if they did before anybody could stop them. Tlhe only way they ooiv’-d do it very handily would be to drop down the river in their canoes, land somewhere along this bank, and come through, tlie bush, either about Mauku or Waiuku. I suppose none of you fellows know of any likely village on the bank that would, make a good place for them, to start from?” ■ j Nobody seemed ever to have been)! there, except one man, and though he 'f/aid there were a few huts ait several places along the bank, he was sure there was no big kaianga, at anyi rata 1 tiill you got ias far down as opposite the old mission station.

“Yes,” Dick went on, after he had listened to what he could tell him, “that’s' what I heard before; so it’s mast likely they’ll try to land at something ilikely the nearest point to the plaoa they decide to cross. They’re sure to have good guides, though, and the ■ worst of it is wo don’t know the bush ! hereabouts ono bit. Well, you sec, men, we’ve just got to find out what I we can about it. If the news the gen-1 oral got was true-wo may drop right] down on them; at any rate we oitght i to find out something about tlhe state 1 of things along this lower part of the j river. I hope every man of you will keep Inis eyes and ears open, and report anything he notices. This ridge, I’m told goes within a mile of the river, and the man who toild me says if we follow tlhe little creek that runs down alongside of it we can’t miss our way in the dark; that’s what I menu to try for. Now men—as soon as you’ve done we’ll be off. We may as well get as far through the bush as wo can before it’s quite dark.”

In a minute or two wo were off again, Dick and 1 as before at the head of the little double column. The light died slowly away, and the blacker shadows gathered among the trees' as we pushed briskly on through the forest which, along the top of the ridge was nearly clear of undergrowth. Levs than an hour of hard going had brought us to the slope which we knew must take us down into the river valley, and by that time it was almost quite dark.

There was still a grey, hazy light which camo from tho moon, but it was only five or six days bid. and was already well over in tho western sky. It (helped us on the long downward slope, however, and once or twice where the trees were farther apart than usual we ooulld even fancy we caught a glimpse of the misty looking valley below.

At last we hod reached the bottom of tlho slope, and the end of the heavy forest. For some time I mad been able to hear the murmur of the stream on our right hand, and we had made our way in that direction, as we came down tho hill. We forced our way through the dense growth of scrub and tall ferns thiat grew" along the edge of the forest till wo could see the glimmer of light on tho water, as it ran, gushing and gurgling among the rocks in its bed. v - - “Keep your ears wide open, Jack,” Dick said to me in a low tome when wa had cautiously foil lowed tho stream for soma distance. “I shouldn’t wonder if there were huts at the mouth of this creek.”

I did my best, but the rush of the water and tho rustling we made oursdlves, in spite of all wo could do, in forcing our way through the scrub made it impossible. Wo stumbled _on for another five minutes, then Dick stopped. “We must be near tho river now,” bo whispered. “Listen, Jack. Are yo<a suro you don’t hear anything.” I stooped to listen. Yes; besides tha rush of the gurgling water I could hear something else.

“Yes, Dick,” I whispered; I can hear something, but I can’t be sure What it ifc). Let me creep forward a little farther from, the creek—l shall 'hear better there.”

“A)l! right, Jack; I’M come with you. Halt where you are, men, till I coma back or give you ia call.” Dick let me go first, and we crept through the scrub of tea-tree bushes that rose just above our heads. Wo hadn’t gone far when I heard the sound again.

“It a Maori speaking. Diok,” I whispered, looking back over my shoulder. “'Hold on till I come alongside,” {ho said, and in another minute we were pushing our way side by side through the last of the scrub. Wo had got to the edge of a clearing at last, and now, thoaigu the moon was very .low in the sky, and quite obscured by clouds, we could easily make out the shape of a good large native hut between us and the river. TjjlO re was, as usual, a grove of peach trees growing all about it, se wo crept quietly through these till we were close to the hub itself. The glimmer of a light found its way out of it at one end. and Dick led the way towards it. Now that we were on the open land it was easy to. see where the dark rived ran so quietly between its banks that it seemed to slip past like a -moving sheet of dim glass. “Hold on a minute, Jack, till I try if I can make out what -that fellow’s talking about.” Dick whispered as he crept close to the hut a-nd put his ear against the wall. Where I was standing I could hear most of the words, but of course I could understand nothing of what ho was saying, though from the sound I thought he must be trying t-o make the man he was talking to understand something. After a minute I crept up to the end of the hut till I could see through a chink by -a comer of the native mat hung o-ver the doorway instead of a door. The light, came Iflrom -a small fire that burned in the centre of the floor, and showed the dark faces, covered with richly tattoed patterns, of three natives who crouched around it. One man was speaking th-e other two were listening gravely yet evidently with tho keenest interest to what he was saying. There was .nothing negro-like about their faces, in spite of their dark skins, and their black eyes glittered brightly under their heavy black eyebrows. . .

I was staring at them with a great deal of interest came behind me and leaked at them over my. shoulder for a few he ‘Whispered, “Gome, Jack,” ias he touched my arm. We moved away a few yards, and then I asked eagerly: “Could you make out what that oldfe.low was talking about •> Dick ? Hie

■aeaned vbo ba in deadly earnest, whatever it was.” “Ye®, most of it,” (be said l . “We’i'e in luck again, Jack. It Beams they re 'waiting for the war party, 'and ltsexpected down the river to-nigjht. They unjust be a strange tribe, I Should say, for these men are to show them the way through the bush into the settlements'.” •- “What will you do with these fellows, Diiok ?” Ho thought for' a minute or two. “You go baok, Jack,” he said' at last, “and bring up the rest.. Mind they don’t give the 'alarm. I want to capture these fellows without any firing, and two of them have guns that might be heard on the river some way off.”

Tn a very few minutes I had brought the rest of our party up to where Dick was standing guard at the doorway of the hut. from which the sound cif another voice could be heard now speaking earnestly. Dick motioned to us to surround the end of the hut where the entrance was. Every man brought his rifle to his shoulder and waited while Dick stepped forward silently, and by a single motion of his hand dragged down the mat that hung over the doorway.. They heard it fall, and in an instant they had sprung to their feet, their bright eyes fastened on the spot where Dick stood covering them with his pistol. There was net a sound for a moment, and no one of the three Maoris moved a muscle; then one of them uttered a deep, exclamation that seamed to burst u,p from somewhere dieep down in his throat almost like an explosion —at sounded like “Ah-wa!”

Then Dick spake again in Maori. The man. who had just exclaimed anode two deliberate steps forward towards the door in spite of Dick’s; pistol which faced him, and Tcckod cut, as if to make sure that Dick ■wasn’t alone. One glance seemed to satisfy ham, for he tamed baok, and without a word crouched beside the fire, and stared into" it as if he had been quite alone. The other two followed his example, and no one of the three moved a muscle aa wie came forward a«d made them prisoners. A heap of green leaves of the native flax plant lay in a corner of the hut, and in less than five minutes Cse had fastened them with strong lashings of the twisted fibres iat the elbows and knees, which the strength of six men would have been powerless to break.

They made no resistance, nor did they Bay a word while we did it, but I ■thought I saw one fierce glance pass between them as we passed the fastenings round their legs 1 , as if they looked l forward to something that might give -thiKi their revenge.

‘Wihafc will you iL> »ifch them?” I asked Dick, as I joined! him at the door, when I had finished; any share of the work.

“That’s just what I don’t know, Jack,” ‘he returned in a low tone, “we can’t take them with us. I’m afraid, ■without a lot of trouble, and if we leave them here we might almost as well not havo caught them at all.” “I wonder-how soon the party they were waiting for will be here? I suppose you couldn’t get it out oif these fellows anyhow.” “Hardily,” Dick said, with a half laugh as he looked at the calm, determined faces of the three Maoris before him. “Hardly! Hut you might as well climb one of these trees and see whether you can make out anything an the river. It’s a pity there’s so little light., but the breeze come® this way. and I daresay you could hear them before you could see anything.”

Tibere was a native tree of some sort growing close to the bank of the river that seemed likely to command a good view, as it stood on a little point that ram a few feet out into the. stream, so with a little trouble I climbed into that, and settled myself on a good big branch. The breeze that came down tk-t river was not very strong, but it was enough to move the leaves so that it was difficult to hear any sounds at a distance, but from where I was perched I could see a good long distance both across and up the river. There wasn’t much to be seen, at auy rate for some time. The river looked 'like a great black sheet that glittered hero and there with 'little glassy twinkles from the few stars that showed between the clouds. It looked as if it might be about half a a*#© wide, but I could only guess .because there was so little light., and on the opposite side the land rose in a daa?Jt' ridge that seemed to be wooded, not., very far away. Dick had promised that-1, should he relieved * in am hour,, but long bef ore that time cook'd have passed I began to bud it hard to keep myself wid l © awake. The dim glassy stretch of the grey river in > front, with its darker of hills: the soft, whispering rustle of the •> leaves around me; even the gentle laplap of the river against the bank below me all seemed to help iin a kind l of unreal dreamy song. Every few minutes I roused myself with a guilty sense that I had been nearly half asleep, and each time I went through the same experience again after a 'Tory few minutes of wakefulness: I began to feel as if I had been in that tree for at least a week; surely there had never been a watch before that went so slowly m that one of Dick’s. The worst of it was that I was ‘shr© it was all for northing; they were not coming; I felt mere and more certain of that. i think I must have been auit© half

asleep by the violence of the start I gave. For a moment or two I felt quite puzzled, forthough I knew I hajd started. I hadn’t ah idea why X had done so. I had just turned my head impatiently to look at the line of light that shone comfortably from the door of the hut when I heard a sound behind me. It was neither the rustle of the leaves, nor the sigh of the breeze on tihe river —this was something new. If I had been in danger of falling asleep only a minute before, I was wide awake now; but though I strained my eyes I could make out nothing but the bewildering little gleams of light on the dark rippling surface of the water; and though I listened iny hardest it was several minutes before I could make out what that new sound could be. Then it flashed on me suddenly; it was the soft throb of many paddles dipped into the water at once —the war party weie really coming at last. (To be Continued.)