FICTION

New Zealand Mail, Issue 1681, 18 May 1904, Page 3

FICTION

A FIGHT TO A FINISH. A STORY OF THE MAORI WAR. BY OWEN HALL. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. CHAPTER XH. HOW WE TOOK THE FLEET. f- I almost forget the danger of being seem in my excitement as I ran along /the track by which I had come. Err <rything might depend on losing mo time. "The idea had come holme suddenly as I became; quite certain ..the war canoes .wore in. the creeknow w.as our chance . •'—we might capture them. The way in which wo might do tins was by no means blear to my mind even now, but I somehow felt sure it was payable, and as I made my way al’.ong the ridge till at last I caught sight of the river again, it seemed to grow clearer. One thing, at any mate, wtae certain —-if anything was to be done there was not a moment to lose.

At .any rate I lost none. I just threw one long, anxious look at the huts, from which the lights-—some bright and others dull and red—shone out into the darkness; then another at the dim, glassy water of the still! creek, where the shadows of two or three great canoes Seemed'to lie beside the shore. Yes, they were there, - and by and by they would start on the expedition—whatever it might be : —for which they had been getting ready when they destroyed the boats the night before. The question now was could I bo beforehand with them? Of course I couldn't say. They might be all ready, sitting, waiting round the fires on the floor -of each hut, their guns across their knees as I remembered seeing them on the first day, when I had looked into the civets hut, ready bo rush to the canoes os soon as that boy gave them the word that they would find .no difficulty in passing the post of the Hangars. They might; and if they were I should be too late-to stop them ; bub ib was quite as likely they might not. At any rate there was a good chance, and it was worth making the most or. : As long as I could see the lights glimmering behind me I think I took some trouble to stoop in case of Ibeang seen, but When they disappeared I squared my shoulders and ian my best. It wasn’t really very fair, though the ridge of higher ground did make a long bend round the low forest land, and either there was more light now, or in my new excitement I could see more easily than I could as I came —at any rate less than quarter of an horn* must have taken me back,to the spot where I had climbed the bank, and I oouiid see the dark shadow of the clumsy little canoe below me on the shore. : A skiver went through me as I looked at about the paddle? I had been forming plans as I ran., and in'eaek of them that clumsy little canoe had piiaved isoane part: I had forgotten about the paddle. It was only-d or a moment though for then I remembered that the boy .had carried nothing like a paddle with him. so of course he must have left it. I found the spot where he had climbed the bank again, and as I slid down I looked eagerly about for some sign of the paddle. Yes, the idea that had shot through my brain had been correct ; ha had laid it down ' When he found the bank so steep that lie had to boild. on by the ferns to drag himself up. I dragged it out of the bunch of tangled ferns into which he had thrust it, and for the moment I felt as if my task was ail but finished. I knew nothing about using a paddile, of. course, -and for the first minute or two after I had pushed the boat off and clambered into it, feeling as if it wouldcapsize with me each time I moved, I seemed to be utteirlly helpless to do anything with it. Fortunately I remembered that the boy must -have eat in the very bottom, and I could do that better than anything else I found. In a minute or two it seemed to grow steadier, and I ventured to lift the paddile as I had seen the men in the canoe do the night (before, and dip Jb gently an inch or. two. in-the water . It was not bard

to do, for the paddle * was very light, and in another minute or two I gained confidence enough to us© it—no doubt clumsily enough in ail oonscdieaioe —so as to direct the head of the canoe towards the opposite bank. Every minute it grew easier. No doubt ; ' tsbe current helped me more than I knew 'but somehow or other I crossed. ' It was almost a. surprise to me when I found myseilf- only a few yards bell-ow the mouth of the creek where X had started, - . and a little trouble enabled me to get the canoe into the mouth of the stream. I dragged it as well as _ I coufld - into a safe place, and then I seized my rifle and started at a inn. Hie distance was a trifle, .though the gully was a good deal grown up with ferns and shrubs, and it sieieaned as if only a minute or two had passed before.l oame out near our oaimp,fire, and was challenged Iby the sentry. Dick was sitting near the fire, looking anxious, I" thought, which was natural

enough as he had just come back from looking for me along the river, of course with i success.

“You, Jack?” ho exclaimed, as he jumped to bis feet, “where on earth have you been ? I’ve been all along the river looking for you.” “Across the riven*, Dick; but we haven’t a moment to lose.” He stared at me for a moment, then ho said: “Across the river? You’re - ing Jack. How could you get over ?” “I swam, of course. But 1 had better tell! you about it, Dick, and then ou can decide What to do.” Neither of us sat down while" 1 1 told Diiok in as few words a® I could just What I Ihmd seen. He never interrupted me till I bad done speaking. “Well, you are a lucky beggar, Jack,” he-exclaimed,'laying his hand on my arm—“but are you sure the canoes are there.” “Sure enough, though I don’t know how many. You’ll soon see, though, for 1 be down here, I expect, in no time now.” “And the track round the butlh, Jack; vou say it’s pretty good travelling ?” “First-class. Dick; our fellows cm get round in no time.” He tiiought for a moment, and then asked soveroi more questions about the village and the creek where I had- seen the canoes.

“Well, Jack,” he said at last, “I wish the captain was here, but we’fll have to risk it without him.”

Dick never lost time, and in less than five minutes every man of the Rangers had been roused, and I wa£ acting as guide to the spot where I had left the canoe. Fortunately one of our men had paddled small native canoes often, and could manage it easily, so he was appointed ferryman; and in two or three minutes more I was one of the first four bo crocs.

I had evidently under-estimated the number the alumsy little craft could be made, to carry, but four of us, besides the padafea* were about as many as eouid get across at once, and we held our.breath more than once when she ‘Zsvo a 'lurch, and felt as if she would settle. We did it, however, and waited under the shadow of the ' bank while Jackson brought our men, four at a time, to join us. It was anxious work, ‘•or every moment I was expecting to hear the sob of the distant paddles coining round the bend, and to see the shadows of the groat war-canoes come stearin * down the river. Nothing happened, however. Load after load was ferried aorccs, and our party under the bank grow in numbers faster than I could have thought passible. We were a quiet party, but an occasional joke, passed in a whisper would raise a lippie of laughter and make me shiver in spite of myself, as if I could hear somebody listening, and ready to carry the news.

Jaokson worked 'like a hero, but it must ii.ave taken the best part of two hours to get us alii .across. It was with something like a gasp of relief at last that I saw Dick rise up at the end of che canoe on its last trip, and scramble ashore, for then I knew that our time of waiting must be nearly over. And cl this time —Which had seemed so iong no me, that I had looked again, and u at the eastern sky, half expecting to see the first signs of the dawn, they had made no sign. Could it be possible, after all, that they would do nothing. I whispered my doubt to Dick in answer ho htis question, “Weill, Jack, did ./ou think we should never get across?” “I don’t know, I’m sure, Dick; but I don’t care very much either way. I feel lucky to-night somehow.” That was good, anyhow, for wo alii believed in Dick’s luck. I looked back to the other bank, and there, just beiind a. low point, dose to the river. I noticed a spark, and then a little flame sprang up brightly on the dark water between us. “Hello!” I exclaimed; “What’s that for?” Dick laughed. “To keep your canoes back, Jack, if they come round tihe ■end. Now. boys; are we all ready for a start? Well, then, Jack, you show us the way. We’ll follow you in single ue.”

■By this time our men had drawn up in line under the bank, and in another minute we had started. I climbed the bank at the old spot, and man by man they climbed it after me—fifty-five of us in all- I —and then I led the wiay by the track I had now followed twice before. Not a word was spoken, and the men made very little noise as they brushed through the forms and ti-ireo that smelt heavy and sweet in the night air. I had reached the first bend round the piece of swampy forest land, when something new caught my ear. It came from the river, and after the first moment I seemed to know the sound again. It was the measured stroke of liiddiles as they struck the water to- . Her. They were going after all. I stopped - involuntariily. “Hold on a minute, you fellows/’ I exclaimed, and they halted. Dick came up at a run from the rear of the line. ‘What’s the matter,. Jack?” he asked. “What have you halted for?” “Don’t you hear,” X answered; “it’s the canoes. Dick.” He listened for an instant.

“All right, Jack. There’s no harm done,” he said. “We’ll be there first, most likely; so much the better*; push on.” I started again, a little puzzled by Dick’s cool way of taking it, but too

much accustomed to obey orders, to i ank of asking questions. The night was very staid, and even while I pushed on at something very nearly up to the speed of our regular swinging half trot I .could hear the sound of the paddles ou the river away to the left. The distance from where we were to the river was less great than it seemed, and somehow the f orest appeared to carry the low sobbing noise to our very ears. Gradually, however, it grew fainter and fainter, and I wondered whether they bad stopped, or whether it was only hat they wore dipping the paddles only and Creeping past our post ciloso to the shore. I had just readied the place where the track turned towards the river again, after goiug round the back of the swamp, when the sudden ring of a rifle behind me reached my ears. It was distant enough to have followed us all the way from where we had started, and I connected it instantly in my own mind with the throb of the paddles for which I had been unconsciously listening since it had died away —'the shot had been fired iat them.

I think every man Gf us started at the sound, but wo didn’t halt again till in another minute or two our track mounted to the crest of the ridge, and I caught the first glimpse of the lights from the huto in the village near the mouth of the creek. I held up my hand to the men beliind me and stopped. Almost at the same moment the sharp ring of a volley rose from the river on the other side of the swamp, followed a minute later by che sounds of irregular firing. I was trying eagerly to decide in my own mind from what I could hear of the firing whether anything like a real fight was going on, and almost wishing I had not been there .after all, when Dick joined me. “You can see the lights from the huts from hero, can you, Jack?” he ask ed, as he oame up. “Ah, I see them too,” he added, “Are there as many as When you saw them before?” “No, and they don’t seem to bo as bright either, Dick,” I said. “Most likely there’s nobody there,” he said, ‘but of course there may be. You’d better keep a bit down the silope even if it isn’t good walking, Jack; they mustn’t see us coming till we get there.”

I did as he told me and led the way along the face of the slope as well as I could for the three or four hundred yards till we were opposite the lights. 1 had certainly been right; there were not so many, and those there were looked dull ,compared with What they had been when I had peered down at them through the ti-tree scrub from the top of the ridge. Dick was just behind me now as I looked back over my shoulder at the line of dusky figures growing dimmer and i nore till ado wy like a long serpentine tail tapering away into dhe darkness.

“He turned down about here, I should say,” I whispered. ' “A|lil right, Jack. . You and HI have a Iciok at the place. Pass the word Sergeant for every man to lie down just ias he is,- and wait for the word to advance. You’ll be able to hear easily from here When I call.”

Dick and I crept cautiously doom the slope side by side. The firing on the river had gradually died away, first to occasional shots, and at last to science. “Do you think they’ve managed to pass, Dick?” I aeked, a little anxiously. I had been reckoning up how many of our mein could have been left behind to appose their passage, and had come to the conclusion there couldn’t have been more than fifteen. That seemed ridiculously -ew to stop them even if there were .no more than four canoes. “Not a bit of it,” he said cheerfully. “Our fellows must have been date in storting the fires or I don’t believe there would have beetn so much as a shot fired ; they’d have come right back.” “You think they’re on their way back now, Dick?” I said, a little excited at the possible nearness of the enemy when I had been thinking of them as a couple of miles off.

“Of course they are. That’s why we haven’t a -moment to lose in finding out how matters stand here. If I could only nave got a look at it by daylight I’d have known just how to place the men; as it is we must do the best we can.” • ••••• ,

As we spoke we had reached the bottom of the natural hollow through which the creek ran, and even in the

dim half light we could see that the {Saco had been weri chosen for a harbour lor the canoes. It was more like a back water from the river than a creek, and it looked deep ias well aa some twenty or more feet wide where wo reached it ; a trunk (of one of the lsailiikatea trees from the swamp had. been laid across it from bank to bank, and the dark water glistened two or three feet below us as we walked cautiously across it.

“Hist, Dick,” I .whispered, “I oaa hear something moving in that hut over there.”

Diolc, who was a yard or so ahead, stopped, and next, moment there was a bark from the bouse. “Conroimd the bcaet.” Ddck exclaimed under his breath, “if we can’t stop in .they’ll hear him, and tihey’lll know too .much to venture into the creek with the canoes.”

“He can’t get out of the hut, Dick, or we should have had him in the open before this. I’ll shoot him in a moment,” I replied, bringing my rifle round from my back where I had carried alt.'

He void his* hand on any arm quickly. . “No. Jack. Not for your life. Don’t vou see a shot 'would be fatal. Let me think for a moment how we can manage.”

The dog had evidently heard our whispered voices, for he broke out into a fit of barking louder than before. Dick, with an angry exclamation, which in Unis annoyance he spoke loudly, sprang forward to the entrance of the hut, and at the same instant to. my surprise the savage bark stopped, and gave place to what sounded almost- like ni gasp of recognition. "Why, it’s Pincher, Jack,” lie exclaimed, and the name was greeted with a delighted whine of welcome from within the hut. In another moment we wore both looking over tihe kind of half door that closed the lower half of the entrance into the dimly lighted interior, where the red glow from the embers on the floor just served to show us the'figure of Pincher, gazing half doubtfully at the entrance, while a succession of strange noises—half bark and half whine —seemed to burst from him in spite of himself.

“It’s Pincher, Jack. I knew it was, Here, Pincher, old man, here boy.” The dog gave one short bark of delight, but then checked himself and glanced quickly behind him into the darker shadows in the corner, almost with a look of appeal, I thought. ‘There’s somebody there. Dick; mind what you’re doing.” I exclaimed, aa Dick laid his hand on tihe rude door to remove it.

“All right, Jack. You keep the door and ill see.” In a moment he had put the door aside and sprung into the hut. Fincher leaped forward with one glad bark, and at the same moment a shadow seemed to dart out of the blacker shadows Where the diiin glow of the embers didn’t penetrate, waving something in the aur, and Dick’s (hand grasped the arm of an old woman as it was in tihe very act of striking him with the wear pan she carried. I had sprung in through the doorway, but I should have been too late if Dick’s own presence of mind hadn’t saved him.

“Wlhat, Mata!” Dick exclaimed, as he looked at the face of the old woman who struggled fiercely to free her arm from his grasp, her black hair falling iaa long snake-like locks round her shoulders, -giving her wild face, half visible in the faint light, a look that was scarcely human in its excitement. Pincher’s joyful bark of recognition had changed to a wail of puzzled feeling, as lie saw the two persons he held dearest in deadly struggle, and he shrank dolefully back into the darkness.

It only lasted for a moment), and then Dick from Mata’s hand the weapon it neld. and the olid woman sank apparently exhausted on the ground at Ins feet. v

“Why it’s Ropata’s mere,” Dick exclaimed, as he looked more closely at the curious piece of almost transparent greenstone, cut and polished into the familiar shape of the club of state of a o flier, about fifteen inches long, with exquisitely sharpened edges, and mysterious figures carved on the smooth handle. We looked at one another for an instant. Then it was really Ropata, as we had half suspected, who was the leader iu. these attacks. Dick sighed.. “I wish it hadn’t been,” he said, o»

he Hooked at tike 'heap that represented hia Hate assailant at Ihis feet. Pinoher had crept forward again, and' now with am . upward glance of affection and apology in his eyes hegam to lick the unconsoions face where it dbowed through the tangled hair. Dick stooped and stroked his head. ‘Tkrnd dog, Bndher,” he said. “Never forget your friends, olid man.” The dog licked , the hand 'for a moment, >and then went hack to the dark wrinkled face. “Come along, Jack, we 'haven’t a moanant to waste. I don’t think he’H bark any more just now; anyhow I must risk it. Alh, 'this will do he exdkimed, 'as he picked up a dirty blanket from the floor, and when we had gone outside contrived to hang it over the doorway. “That will deaden tile sound a ‘bit if he should hark, and I think Malta’s, settled for a while too. Now come on.” Be ran along the path that led by the side of the creek and I followed him. As I ran the sobbing sound of the paddles seemed to creep to my ears along the top of the dark still water. ,‘TiOok .out. Dick.” I exd aimed, ‘‘They are coining back: I can hear the padl- - Dick stopped running and listened. tC Yfis, Jack, I hear them. I’m afraid we’re laite, but we must do the best we Can. Oome on; I’ll race you back to the men.” He was off like a shot, and I after Mim at the top of my speed, by the track we had come. Dick got first over the log that bridged the creek, but I caught him up before we got to where our fellows were lying crouched in the scrub. The men sprang to their feet os we reached them, eager to be doing Something. _ . “Now, sergeant,” Dick exclaimed the 1 moment he had regained wind enough to speak, “You take the last twentyfive men in the line and keep allong the top of this bank till you get as near as. you can to the mouth of the creek. The canoes are coming back now, so you show yourselves, nor give any warning. Let them pass you and come up the creek. When you 'hear two whistles from me you will open fire and keep them from getting out again.” The twenty men had stepped forward as Dick spoke, and after one or two short questions and answers they were off. I knew it was only a matter of moments, and yet I felt as if it were hours, for ail‘the tonne I could hear the steady Sob <cf the paddles coming nearer end nearer, till I oouild fane/1 saw the Ehc.do.ws of the great- canoes stealing towards me through the -darkness 1 . “And now men, follow - me—quietly mind,” Dick said turning to the others. <f You go on ahead, Jack and show the way. We must line up along the upper side of the huts so as to command the* water, mind.” The others bad disappeared in the dark shadows, and now we started down theu slope owards the place where the log' crossed the creek. In a minute we i had reached it and crossed one by one. Then I led them round the back of the hut, where I could hear the low growl with which Pincher heard our gteps in passing. The still night air on the water must have carried sounds better than I bad supposed, for even now when I reached the hut farthest down the creek, acid looked down on -the dim stretch of glassy water,- there was no sign off anything to disturb its surface. • ’ .

“3s that far enough, Dick?” I asked Over my shoulder of Dick Who was only a, yard or two behind me. “Yes, in the mean time. 'We’ll see how far up they come first, and besides the cover’s better under the peach trees.”

(Hhemem took their places and wait- \ ed, while any eyes felt as if they would start from my head as they were fixed on the black shadows that lay on the water. “At last!” I positively gasped out the Words without intending to speak, as the tall figure-heads of four great canoes crept out -of the shadows almost together and swept forward without a Bound. Not a peddle mowed, as they slid up the smooth, dark creek, like so many spectres of canoes long educe decayed. \ “Oan you see any more, Jack?” Dick whispered. _ ' ‘‘‘(N'o. Dick, that’s every one, I believe. 5 I almost jumped, as the two Cliecur shaa-p whistles of Dick’s promise riilgnnil rang out in answer to my last .word.

f< Now, men,” ho shouted; and in a moment the ©harp flashes of light darted from the line of our covers, and were answered by the fire of the party on the other side and lower down. / ([he surprise was complete. Just one gasping cay; Whadh bux®t from a hundred and fifty throats like one, and they paused. Dark figures sprang up, only • to' tfalbl again wounded or killed by our fire ; thetne» was a sound of cracking wood os our bufii'ets struck the canoes or theupdifted paddllesr-—still they seemed to wait. Then the Hardens came in oho short fierce sentence from the stem of onie of tho eanGes, and as it seemed!, m a-single instant, the paddles were dropped, weapons were snatched from the bottom of the boats, and with a

sLhgjle will'd' yell a crowd of dusty figures leaped overboard into the water and headed for the shore. Prepared as we were for most things, I think, in the way of defence, the effect was something like a ourpnae to us in our -bum, amid I have little doubt that many a shot Went wide that was aimed at that

ghostly looking crowd of struggling warriors. My own eyes had ringled out one dark figure which sprang from the stern of the nearest canoe, and-1 certainly meant to bring him down as he sprang in a second or two from the water to the bank, but I know I missed' him, for I saw him turn and wave the tairiha which he carried above his head, as he shouted a few ringing words to his flcffi'owers in a tone that overmastered every other- sound. They heard and understood him. As they swarmed up the bank they drew together in the darker Shadow behind the hut®. “Steady men —'steady!” Dick shouted. ““Reserve your fire; they are going to rush us.” It was true. Almost before we could understand, certainly before most of us oouild finish reloading, one wild yel|l pealed out of the davknesis, and they came on like a solid black wedge. They didn’t attempt to fire a gun—probably they were unloaded —they simply hurled themselves upon us in the darkness. I know x for one sprang up and fired, and others did the same. Next moment I was felled, and trampled under foot, as a hundred Maori warriors rushed past me into the darkness.

CHAPTER XIII. ACROSS THE TRACK. When I woke up I found myself in the field hospital of the Fortieth Regiment, and it was some time before I coujld understand how I bad coane to exchange the wild yds and headlong charge of that black avalanche. of men which had passed over me fo» the quiet cf the big hospital tent. I wins treated well enough there, but very little notice was 'taken of me until one afternoon I had a visit from Diiok. That was a real treat, for I bad been hungering for news -of the Rangers, land I felt as if months must have passed since I bad seen any of them. Dick found me sitting in a deck chair, and feeling almost like myself again “Hulilo, Jack,” was his greeting, as he shook my hand ‘and laid his own on my shoulder, “it’s jolly to see you like this old fellow; how do you feel after that crack oin the head ?'” “Crack on the head, Dick—was that what was the matter? Well, I thought it must -have something to do with any head for it was sore and awfully stupid, but none of the people here seemed to know—at any rate it’s all! right now. Rut I say Dick, how did it all turn cut ?’*

“Well, we got the canoes, Jack, and that was about all. Ropaba was too much for us after all, for he wouldn’t stay and fight.” “Did they lose many, Dick ?” I asked, •the recollection of the scene coining back to me as he spoke. “No, not so many considering: only thirty-three altogether—you see he didn’t give us time.” “And ours, Dick: were any cf our fellows killed?” “Only two. and three Wounded besides yourself; you were the worst—l was afraid it was a case with you. That was bow you -came to be here —we could do nothing with you,” “And now, Dick, how air's things going on ? You must he half way up, the valley by this -time, aren’t you ?” “Why, Jack, how long dk» you think you’ve been here?” he asked laughing. “Well, a month or two, I should say. by the way it feels, but the fact is I haven’t an idea. Why, blow long do you say it is?” “Just a fortnight to-morrow, Jack. I’d have been here to have a look at you before this, but we’ve been away neatly all the time and this was the first chance I got.” “Where have you been, Dick?” I asked eagerly. “Have you been scouting in advance up the valley?” “No Jack, worse luck; we’ve been most of the time on a wild-goose chase after a tribe that was repotted t!o be going to make a rush at tbe General’s communications. Of course it was all a yarn, and we’ve had ten days’ tramping for nothing. But never mind, we’re to go ahead in two days’ time, so I came down to see how you were getting on; the captain wants to have you along wtiitih uSi.” I daresay I coloured up at that, and I know I fefflfc as ilf I could, start at once. “All right, Dick. I believe I’m fit enough now. Can’t you talk to the surgetoftt and get me out of this hole?” Dick laughed. “I’ll report you to the Captain, you may depend, Jack, and We’ll have you out in no time. I’ll be able to send a good report to my mother and Bessie too. I found a letter from. Bess when I got back yesterday, making oil sorts of inquiries about you.” Dick bad to go before I oouild ask him half the questions I bad ait the .tip cf my tongue, but I felt twice as well and strong, and eager to get -out and be at work again. Two days later I was discharged from the hospitail, and sent forward in one of the river patrol beats to Joan the Rangers, who were encamped alt a place fully half a -mile in advance of tbe place I had left them and just opposite the mouth of tbe creek which I found Dick had named after Ropaitu, I got tbe heartiest of welcomes from my comrades, and even from the captain in person, and I assured him I was all right again, and felt fit for anything he had for me to do.

“Ach,” he said, with his hearty laugh, Za,t iz ver goot. It iz soon zat ve shall find for you something vor you to do. It iz your gouzin zat vill take you milt him to-morrow. It iz ze best of ze luck zat you vill half, ven it iz zat you vill be tiogezer.” “Where are you going, Dick?” was my first question whan I got my cousin by himself. “Up along the river, Jack, The road making’s all but up with us since we’ve been so long away, and I hear the general’s growing impatient. There’s a report at head-quarters that the Maoris mean to make a stand somewhere not far from here, and we’re to feel dicing the bank to find out if it’s a fact.” °‘l wonder if Ropata’s there. Dick?” I said, “and, by the bye, what became of Pincher, and the old woman toot I intended to 'ask you that day at tbe hospital, only you were off in such a hurry.” “Ah, that was a sell, Jack. Of -course when those fellows rushed ns and broke through our line that night we went after them for a bit, though it wasn’t much use in the dark; and when we got back and bad picked you and the others up I thought of Mata and went to the hut only to find it empty. Both Mata and Pincher had cleared out; no doubt they joined the others.” “Weill. I shouldn’t wonder if we came across them again before it’s 'all over.' I said, “it’s a shame that a good, wellbred dog Idike Pincher should go down to till© level of one of these Maori curs.” “Well, Jack, somehow I have a notion we’ll come across them again:, as you say. and Ropata too; but I don’t feel as if Pincher Was a bit sticking to the old woman. She must have been good to you see hiow he licked her face?” I dreamed of Mata and Fincher that night as I lay among the fern®, and in every dream the dog took the old woman’s part against all kinds of eddri It was well on in the afternoon next day before we started because we had to wait for orders from headquarters, and they didn’t come till after dinner. We wer© all pretty wild at the delay, but the orders came ait last, and we started—fifty of us, under Dick’s command. Till© afternoon was warm, for it was now early in November; and really the beginning of summer in New Zealand. There, was a- dazzling blaze of yellow sunshine on the river that made it flash like a broad band of gold between its sober-coloured banks, where the dark green of the ferns was only relieved by the pink blossoms of the titiree, or the great bunches of the native flax, with its glossy green leaves, and straight plumes of red flowers. It would have been hot but for the westerly breeze that mine down the valley, blowing in -our faces, and even as it was I could willingly have left my rifle behind me before the first hour of our tramp had warned me that my. fortnight tin hospital hadn’t left me as strong as I had been before I went there.

“We marched as we usually did when the ground was open, in parallel lines, covering ass much as possible of the country we Were scouting. There were plenty of tracks to choose from; nearly always one Close to the river, a second perhaps two hundred yards from it, and a third that skirted the edge of the forest. We followed the two tracks nearest the river that afternoon, both of which seemed to be pretty good. When we had started Dick said to me—- “ Now, Jack 7 I’ll river side -myself, and if you feel all right you might lead the file on the inner track, and keep both eyes and ears open for anything worth noticing. Don’t lose eight of me; if you see anything stop and give me a whistle —you know the call.”

The compliment of being put "at the head of the file was great enough to make me put up with a good deal of weariness, and though I had to wipe my brow pretty often I managed to beep going all right. We had tie examine each gully we came to carefully, so as to report on the easiest line for the .military road, sc that in spite of marching aib least half as fast again as the soldiers did, we didn’t cover the ground very quickly. Here and there, too, we cairn© on detached clumpis of bush that either lay on How land near the river, like the one below Ropatfrh creek, or

ran out in long tongues from the main forest, which lay like a dark background along the higher land farther back from the river. It was hiallf-paet one when we started, and by four o’clock I reckoned wo must have covered about five miles. We had seen nobody for the first two. but after that an occasional figure could be seen on each distant rising ground as we came in sight of it, only to disappear as we got nearer. But at last the tracks we had been following seemed likely to join at no great distance ahead , of where we were. The higher land on the left was edging nearer the river and making the strip of the lower land narrower and narrower and so the track my file 'had been fallowing Iliad bent towards the river to avoid the higher land and the forest at the same time. The worst of it was that the forest, pushing itself down like a wedge, prevented us more and more from seeing what there was hitther up the valley, till our own side of the river seemed to be almost entirely cut off by the forest. I had seen Dick stop a good many tipics to look through his field glass towards the snot where it was evident we should be hedged in between the forest and the' river with not more than two, or at most three hundred yards to spare, and I wondered if he would risk going any farther.

The two tracks were going to become one I could, see, for at the spot where I crossed the last gully, ’almost choked at the bottom with raupo rushes, srx or seven feet high, our track couldn’t have been -more than thirty yards from Dick’s. “The trades will join over there,” I sbouttd to him, pointing to ia rising ground >'bcut a hundred yards ahead. “Yes,” he shouted in answer; “keep on till you reach it: we may see more when we get there; but keep a sharp look-out on the edge of the bush as you go.” I led the way, keeping my eyes on the thick jungle of tree ferns and nikau palms that fringed the irregular edge cf the forest, in search of anything that might threaten an attack, but there wasn’t a sign of life to be seen. Our party reached the spot where the paths joined first, and I had time to look around bpfore Dick cams up. “Nothing to be seen from here either,” I said, as he joined me. “If the forest had been planted on purpose it could bardiy have shut us off better from a view of the country beyond on this slide of the river.” Dick looked thoughtfully at the place without speaking. “No Jack,” he said at last, “and I don’t like the look of it much,. I’d give something to know What there is behind that bit of bush, but I don’t like to risk it. If they got between us and the camp here they might cut us off.” “All! right. D : ek,” I exclaimed, “let me go. I’ll do it in ten minute®. If thev’ro there they won’t turn out for a single one of us; and if they did jh wouldn’t matter much: besides, “I haven’t eeen one of^them for the best part, of half an hour.” “That’s one thing I- don’ t -like, Jack,” he said. “Depend on it there’s some reason, or we should have had them watching us from every rise. Well, Jack, if you’re sure you feel fit I don t know what we can do better. I must take back a report of what there ia. behind that point of bush or we might as we 7 ] not have come.” “All right, Dick. Perhaps I had better leave my rifle with you till I get back; if they should chase me, feet will be mare useful to get away with than rifles.”

. T handed my rifle to the man nearest me, and tightened my belt . “Now, Jack,” Dick, said to me in a low bone* “be careful, and run no risks you can help. It’s dangerous, I feel sure, but somebody’s got to do it, and I trust to your eyes and ears better than amv of the others. I d go-myself, but I can’t leavo the men.” , _ fn a minute more I had started. 1 felt, though I couldn’t hav Q told Why X felt'it that Dick waa right about the service being a dangerous cue, but that seemed to make it all tlie more exciting; I don’t know that I had ever felt in better spirits than I .did ‘as I Started at an eusv trot along the track. It was a pity I didn’t feel quite so fit aa usual, but I bad no doubt if it came tvo pmch I should be all right. And this was a

compliment too. Here I was, the youngest of the corps, aatd Hick 'had ohotaen me to lead the column; arid now this was even more. Of course Hick was nry cousin; but I didn’t believe it was ori tihat account Ho diid it. No y DAok had said He could depend Km me better than the others; and Dick always meant what he said. ; ..'The .track w ! as broader than usual,, and I thought > as I followed .it with my eyes that it seemed to have been mere used lately than any track we had come across since we had been im the valley. That looked as if Dick might be right, and we might expect to find them in fores not far away. I trotted on, my eyes, glancing quickly, now m hnn • « on the edge of the forest to the left. The point of the forest.went oh coming closer to the raver, tih , t ed as if the trees couldn’t be more than a "hundred and fifty yards from e bank. I looked behind me, and noticed that I had come about three huridra yards from the place where I had lett the others; it looked as if lees than as far again wiouildhtake me to the end or that point of bush, and let me see w hat there was on the othnr side. I quickened my pace and hurried forward. •At last I could see that the trees were growing thinner- and X could almost fancy, I could see the country on the other side. I could certainly see the glitter «of sunshine between the trees, so it could be only a matter of a minute or two more. Then a sudden flash came from the edge of the bush, and it was followed by a report; so they were really there after sill. Ah the thought flashed through my mind I slackened mv speed, as I thought whether I ought to go on,. Dick had told me not to risk more ,than I could hefp—could I really help this? No, not if I was to get the information Dick wanted. , I threw one glance over my ■shoulder amid ran on. 'Alb any rate I would see what there was beyond that point of hush. Dick had said ho must report on that; then I could turn and run back ; it wasn’t likely any of them could hit me at that distance.

I had squared my shoulders and was running >my best., as aft r fhsh shot out of the cover at the edge of obe forest. Next moment the reports of a dozen of our rifles rang through the air behind me. It was like the voice of friends urging ine on,, for I knew that Dick was taking a hand to draw t he r ftrq away from me, so I bounded forward at my best sliced. Suddenly the track, on which niy eyes were fastened as I ran, bent to the left, and in half-a-ininute more m.y face was turned away from the river, and as I lifted my eyes I saw what it was the forest had concealed. I 'checked myself , and stopped to look at it; there was no need to go any farther. I had .often listened to Dick when he talked about the did Maori pahs that •used to crown the tqp of every hill around where Auckland is now built. > He had 'often described how -the stockades had been built of logs and branches of trees set on end and sunk deep in the ground so as to form a strong fortification. Dick had always been on the look out for a pah, for he fei'.t sure the ' Maoris would build them so as to oppose cur advance into their country; and though the soldiers, and even some of our own men, laughed at the idea, I had caught it from Dick, and I believed in it too. And now as I raised my eyes, I found myself face to face with a Maori pah. Just beyond the tongue 'of forest land there was a creek which seemed broader than most of those we had passed, ' amid was nearly filled up with a waving forest of talil reeds that _ moved in the breeze,; and on the other side the ground sloped up steeply to a ridge. It was on top of this ridge they had built the pah. . The westerly afternoon, sunshine was Kibbling full upon it not more than four or five hundred yards from where I stood, and it certainly looked formidable. I had no time to examine it carefullly, or to -judge — even if I had been capable of doing so—of its value as a 7 defensive work; all that I bad time to ' gee was .a long line of earthworks crowned with a high stockade than ran along the edge of the highest ground, and evidently commanded the land between them'and the river ailong which our road i must go. I had time to see as much as this; but at the moment I had time for njoth-ing more. It was evident I hadn’t a minute to lose if I meant to carry back the information I had gained, for already scores —-it seemed to me that I might have said hundreds without exaggeration—of natives were running to: out off my escape; I turned my back on the pah and ran for my life. They were determined I shouldn’t carry back news of what I had geen:. I think that was the first thought that flashed through iny head as I ran, cund I ran as I thought I had never run before. After the first minute or so I glanced backwards gpver my shoulder, • and I breathed more freely; I need nob be afraid of these feElows in., a fair race. In a few seconds more they seemed to / "have come to the same conclusion, for they, began to fire after me as. I ran. ‘Well, there was, some comfort in that. Dick Always said a Maori couldn’t hit a haystack at two hundred. yards. I Quad rounded the end of the forest . by thHa- tiimei and our fellows ooulldh’t be miou-e tban six hundredyards away at the most. I eou)ld »ee that they had

ceased firing at tihe edge of the bush; perhaps they had been afraid they might hiilb me by mistake. The next time I ventured to look uip, after running nearly a hundred yardk I should think, I could see them spreading out in wide skirmishing order; I thought to myself that Dick was getting ready to give a warm reception if they Should follow me too far, and at the thought I pulled myself, together and made an effort to keep up the pace at which I had been p-oing. It was harder than I expected, and for the first time a doubt came over mo whether I should be able to keep it up to the end. Then the firing began, and 1 could only catch glimpses of our men through tho smoke which rose everywhere in little jets and eddies.

(To be continued;.)