FICTION

New Zealand Mail, Issue 1683, 1 June 1904, Page 3

FICTION

A FIGHT TO A FINISH.

A STORY OF THE MAORI WAR.

BY OWEN HALL.

ALL EIGHTS EESEEVED.

OHAPTHR XV.

IN THE VANGUARD.

Ho pat a looked at me for a minute without speaking, and then his eyes moved from me to Pincher, who by‘this time had gathered himself up*from the corner, into which he had been hurled half'senseless by the furious kick below the jaw, dealt him by his mistress, and was trying to lick my hands as . they' Inihg before me. Then he glanced at the corner where Mata still lay, where he had thrown ’ her, apparently insensible, and at last they came back to met I thought there was. a new expression in 1 them as he stooped and pick up the tomahawk from* the ground. He seized nay hands with a quick movement, and severed the last strand, of the fastening -at the wrists, letting them drop asunder. ‘ The first /use I made of my liberty was to stroke Pincher’s head, in return for' which he looked up into my face, and wagged his tail for an instant; then, with a quick upward glance, that seem-: 4 ed almost like an apology, he turned and crept away into the.corner in which Mata lay;- Ropata’s eyes followed him for ; a moment — he looked back at - -hie, as if he had iiiade up his mind, r/; v*Haere-mai!” he said in a low tone. ;: AHaere-mai, -igaka.” Then he turned silently to the doorway of the hut. I • him into the darkness outside. .Ropata evidently knew the place /\ ' well. He glided before me through the

■ ; heavy shadows as if each step, - were .-/ 'familiar to him.. We passed huts, from .-'-which the dim red glow of firelight >. stole out through,the doorways, and I ' * seemed >to hear;the heavy breathing of • men asleep inside. We crossed the openground; . and moved noiselessly along '■'. under the deeper shadows thrown by '"/the stockade. At last the tall dark / palisade we had been following ended /VA in an opening, where I could just make / out great ,heaps of posts and logs lying, ' ready, no doubt, to complete the fortification. ' , - “Haere-mai!” Ropata whispered cnce more, as he slid down. the bank,into the - deeper darkness of the ditch, and in a moment I had followed him. He moved along the bottom for a little way till it seemed to grow shallow; then he crept cautiously up the other side. In a minute or two more he had struck ' / into a path, which I could feel rather than see, and then I followed his dim. shadow in the darkness for several hundred yards, trying as I went to imitate the almost silent footsteps of my guide. At last he stopped, and pointed onwards in the darkness. “Haere Te : pakeha” (“the white man go on’'), he said, “Kapai te roady.” (“the way is very good/ 5 ) I understood him, and T’held ? out my hand, which he took and pressed heartily. “Kapai Tika-Kanui pai Tika,” he repeated, as he let go my hand. I knew what he meant without more words. It was for Dick’s sake that he had saved my life, and given me my liberty. 4< !Me tell, Dick. Dick very glad/' I said, as he turned off the path,- and seemed to melt away into the shadows. I.stood for sbme minutes looking after him, hut there wasn’t . a sound to tell me whether he was 'near or not. At last I moved cautiously forward on the path on which he had placed me, wondering a little whether it was the same one I had. now travelled .over three times already. At any rate it was a good-track, which there was little difficulty in keeping, even in the darkness, and I hiade my way along it without much trouble: V . I had travelled along it for while before I could feel that I might venture to. leave off listening eagerly for every sound that might tell of danger, and every time I reached the edge of* one of the little gullies that crossed the track I stopped and listened anxiously before I ventured down into the black hollow-..place where the sound of / running water, or the moving of the rushes, sounded so terribly like whispering voices below. I got one start which made me feel queer for a good while. I had .ventured cautiously, down one side of a gully that - seemed wider and deeper than any I had yet’ come ' to, and had felt my way carefully till I made sure of the place where 'the path crossed the stream at the bot- ' ./.-torn. There was no sound of running ' - water, because there was a growth of rushes in the. bed, .so everything' was very stili. indeed... Looking up I had noticed that there were. several trges growing on. the - top/of ■ the bank, for I„ cqiiid make-out spine of /the branches against the background of the dim sky 'overhead'.' ■> Just as -1 stepped across the water; I was-startled by a hoarse voice which / : exclaimed “Morepork” in a Solemn tone. The; words were.'gruff, but perfectly distinct, and I waited for what . ■.tv^/.to/cohit-rii'exfc/.,feeling,hot and cold - by turns, but not daring to move, I waited foi’ a minute or two, but nothing

happened ; then, just as I was going to move again, a voice that seemed hollower and even more solemn than before shouted “Morepork.” I stared upward at the place from which the strange demand seemed to come, and, there, seated on a dead branch, I could just make out- the dim shape of an owl sitting solemn and alone. Then I remembered. I had heard of a morepork, though I had never made the personal acquaintance of pne before. Somehow I think I was less nervous ana got on better after that fright • and I didnlt have any other. I got tired when I had been walking, as I calculated for more than an hour, and I ventured to turn off the path a few yards and lie down for a rest, among the ferns. I must have dozed off, I suppose, for when I looked up with something like a start I saw that there was a grey light in the eastern sky. I don’t think I liad ever welcomed daylight quite so heartily as I did that morning. Ino longer felt tired and I didn’t even remember that I was hungry, though I liad thought of that a good many times before I lay down. I started up and looked about me. Yes, it was all right. There on the left was the river, looking dim and grey, with a light haze hanging over it. It was close at hand, so I must have'come by Dick’s track, which explained why the gullies had seemed to be bigger and different from those I had crossed before. „ I got back to the track/ and started at a good .smart trot, though I soon slowed down again in the regular pace of the Rangers’ march, and by the time the first rays of the sun struck across the valley I had come in sight of the place from which we had started the afternoon before. Could it have been ; really, only, the day before ? What a lot of things seemed to have happenedand all in less than twenty hours. . I could hardly believe it. In ten minutes more I had been hailed by the sentry m a voice that brought half the corps to their feet, apd in another five I. was among my comrades, and had shaken hands with half of them at least.

Dick sat "looking at me without speaking a word, while I told him my: story, till I came to the part about Pincher and. Ropata. “Yes, Dick,” 1 said, I told you Pincher was an out-and-out well-bred dog, ndt like one of those Maori curs; do you think one of them would have done that ?.” ’ “Well, Jack,” he returned with a smile, “what about Ropata then?” “Oh, Kapata’s a great chief, Dick; you told me so yourself.” “Well,” Dick said when I had finished, “you’re about the luckiest beggar I ever heard of. Jack; the captain says so too. He’ll be glad to see you iback, I can tell you. He swore more German oaths than I thought there were in the language last night when we came back without you. I don’t wonder either, for he had to ride off and report to the general—seven of our fellows wounded, though we did manage,to bring - them in, and you lost. It was the worst day’s work we’d done in six weeks, and nothing at all to show for it. He didn’t lose faith in your luck though, Jack. The last words he said to me were—Ach, Leslie, you.-,need not to giff him up; it iz himself zat haffs ze luck,”

My news was considered important enough to be reported at once, and the general sent for me to give him particulars of what I had seen. My father had been an officer* under him in old times, and he was very kind, but I was well pleased to be set free to go back to my comrades, who were more friendly than ever since they had got the captain’s idea that I was the lucky man of the’ corps. Both the captain and Dick blew me up for pretending I was all right again before the last expedition, but of course that only made my, luck the more wonderful, and now I whs put on light, duty which suited me very well. There was plenty to do, for my'news had stirred everybody up to new energy. The idea of a real good fight after months of road-making seemed to put new life into . the soldiers, so that even the road-making went on faster than it had ever done before. It wasn’t done so substantially, perhaps, for the general was anxious to reach the pah at once. He had an idea the Maoris would lose heart and abandon it before he could get there, and that seemed to be the opinion of all the military officers.. Dick and I thought differently, of course, but then we had "seen more of them, and Dick knew Ropata well. The principal work that couldn’t Ibe avoided was bridging the creeks with bridges strong enough to boar the artillery, and as the timber was got from the forest the Rangers had plenty to do in protecting the working parties. Day by day the work was pushed on,and every day or two there was a general advance of the forces, till by- the end of a fortnight the Rangers found themselves once more in the place where they had halted on the day I was taken prisoner. A There was no need to halt now, for we had a small army behind us. "What with large detachments of three British regiments besides colonial militia and volunteers there must have, been a good deal more than two -thousand men within half a day’s march. We pushed on in loose skirmishing .order, pushing the'natives before us as they

< t ' clung to the edge of the forest, till at last we turned the comer of .the bush, and . found ourselves face to' 1 face with the Rangiriri pah. It was with a queer feeling of old acquaintance that I came in sight t>f the place, and pointed out to the captain and Dick whereabouts the entrance was where I had been taken in, and as nearly as I could guess the unfinished part wliere Ropata had brought me out. None of it was unfinished now; the high palisade of timber stood up " finished and dangerous looking on every side, and even the captain who had been accustomed to speaking contemptuously l of what Maoris could do in the way of fortification, admitted" that it wouldn’t have been easy to choose a better position at any place we had yet seen than the rising ground on which it stood.

We were not more than three hundred yards away, and yet the place was grimly silent. Not a human being was to (be seen in or near the pah; not a shot was fired, nor was there/, a sign that it was occupied at all. The men who had fired' at us from the edge of the forest must surely have fallen back into the bush, for there wasn’t a sign of life about the place. The captain looked hard at it for some time through his glass. Then he turned to 'Dick:

“Ach, Leslie, didn’t I not say zat zey vill not vait? It iz von goot stockade; yes, I vill admit zat it is zat —hot now, .zero vill Jbe nobody dnzide off it.” Dick smiled. “I wouldn’t be too sure of that, sir,” he said. “We can’t see all that may be inside that fence, and I don’t .think they care much about hurraying.” The captain' gave One of his great hearty German laughs. “Aeh. Leslie,” he exclaimed, “it vill not be off any use to show you; you. vill go on believing in your friendts off ze Natives. Now, if it vere nodt zat ze orders are not to do so; I vould onderdake to go inzide zat, vat you call a pah, in ten minutes.”

“I’m glad I’ve not got to lead the party,” said Dick quietly. “At any rate I should like a wider door to get in .by than the one Jack says they took him through.” We were still watching the apparently deserted pah when the first files of one of the British regiments inarched up with colours flying. They were followed almost immediately by a group of horsemen, whom I recognised as the headquarters staff, among whom was the general. The,, old soldier halted and carefully observed the stockade for some time through .liis glass in silence. Then he rode forward to the place wliere we had halted, and where the captain and Dick were still standing* They saluted, and the captain went forward to meet .the general, but not so far that I couldn’t hear .what, was said. “I haff von request to make, General,” he said, “in ze nome ov ze corps. Shall'it not be allowed tous to be ze first to entre ze pah vicli von of us did disgovere?”

The General looked at him under his white eyqbrows with a half smile, and then back again at the stockade, which certainly did look deserted, with the afternoon sun falling hot on its long lines of upright posts, rising ten feet above the embankment.

“Do you expect to march in without opposition, Captain ?” he asked, “it doesn’t look as if they had built it with that idea.” “Ach, but, General, they vill surely haff deserted it. Zey vill haff seen zat zey could not resist ze cannon; and now zey vill haff gone.” The General glanced round at the faces of the staff officers who had followed him, as if to ask their opinions on the subject. The general opinion certainly agreed with our captain. “Do your officers agree in your opinion, Captain ??’" the General asked again when lie had taken another careful look at the place through his glass. “Is .that’ ' Lieutenant Leslie there ? I should like to heax*. what he thinks.” v Dick was called, but though he said that he didn’t believe the pah was deserted. he was unable to give any reason for his opinion but tlib genernlone that from all he knew of the Maoris he believed they meant/to trust t o pahs

for the defence of their country, as that had always been their usual way of fighting, ilt was evident that the general opinion was entirely against Dick, and several of the of the regiment already on the ground ed the general to allow them the privilege of taking possession of the first pah, hinting broadly that it was an honour that belonged of right to the regular army. At .last the general, who had seemed to hesitate while he examined the stockade, once more turned suddenly to his staff:

. “I incline to think’ you are right, gentlemen,” he said, “and that the place is no longer occupied; though it is possible we may be mistaken. .1, re'grefc, captain, to refuse the request you have very naturally made on behalf of your corps, hut it has been truly represented that the custom of the service has always been to give precedence to Her Majesty’s regular forces in • such cases. Should it, however, become necessary to storm the place, I can promise the Rangers an honourable position. You will now detail the man who was taken prisoner here to act as guide to the force which you, colonel; wiil detach'for the service .of taking possession .- without delay.” I could see that our captain was in a towering rage when he came back 'and ordered me off on the service, for which I was wanted, but as I marched off I heard him say to Dick, “Ach then, Leslie: didt I not tell you zat it vill be your cousin zat vill haff all ze luck; vos it not enuff zat he should' be ze first to be in ze pah von time?” Dick only laughed a little. “He isn’t in it the second time yet, .sir. I wish I saw him and the rest of them'* safe back again.” I confess I felt just a little bit of the same feeling- as I followed the colonel as he rode across to where his men had halted. 1 had seen enough of the Maoris by that time to feel pretty sure that anything like r,mining away, especially from a stockade they had taken so much trouble to build, was about the last thing we need expect from thorn; and when I thought of the pride they had evidently taken in it, I couldn’t help wondering how these soldiers had managed to make themselves believe the Maoris shared their opinion of their own superiority. I could almost have laughed, as I stood waiting there looking at the tall palisade, and thought of the calm fierce \ faces of t *ie party of chiefs I had seen in the hut, at the . idea these soldiers had about them, and yet it might be too serious for laughing too. It was no .business of mine, to be sure. I'had only to obey orders, and point out the spot where 1 had keen -• taken into the pah across the ditch; but of course I couldn’t help feeling a little angry that tkey hadn’t listened to Dick when he knew more about it than any of them—and besides, I had to go with them. • I stood by leaning on my rifle while the company ras being selected that was to nave the honour of leading the way, and when that had been done, and the orders given to the officer in command. I fell in alongside of him where he inarched at the end of the . foremost file of his men. I glanced ■’ back over my shoulder as we came to the creek/' and I could see where Dick was still standing looking after us. . This was different from the last time I had gone across, dragged along by the two hig Maoris who held me by the arms, but I didn’t feel sure that it was much tafer.

We crossed the creek, and mounted the bank on the other side within thirty yards of the ditch, hut still there was no sigu of an enemy, and for an instant I wondered whether after -all it might be possible they had gone. It was only a few—perhaps twenty yards —and we wheeled to turn the angle of the stockade. There wa# something new? here since I had seeirit last. Between us and the ditch there was a long row of little mounds, perhaps tlire® feet high or d little less, and two yards or so from the ditch: I almost* halted.,- . “Hullo R I /exclaimed—that’s new. Wliat/s that, for - / /v “What do you-.mean/ my good fee; • . >-~ ,

low?” the officer said rather impatient- ■', Jy. “Step out 17, we’ve no time to look at things now. Whereabouts is this entrance' of yours ?” " “There,” I answered, pointing to the spot, perhaps fifty yards ahead where the log still lay across 'the ditcn—/There, sir, where you can see that log.” - ■* “Ah, yes, I see it. Now men,” he added, “Quick march!” He stepped thefront, -and with his sword drawn ied the way. I stayed where I was, Which was at the end of the file farthest from the ditch, And from these iittle mounds of clay, from which somehow I found it no easy matter to remove my eyes. They were a new feature, and I had an instinct that they must be dangerous, though it didn’t occur to me then what their purpose could ~b'e. The soldiers swung along in their regular lines, certainly not more than twenty yards from the mysterious line, and nothing was visible to justify my alarm. I threw a glance backward V 1 over my shoulder, and could just distinguish the points of the bayonets of the second company of soldiers, as they :• mounted the slope, glittering in the sunlight. - i At that moment there came a sud- > den loud call from somewhere inside the enclosure, and before the sound , .had died away there was a flash 7 and a'roar, and jets of fire and then of smoke seemed to shoot < v from each of the hillocks I had looked at with so much suspicion. Another moment' and the inside of the stockade was ■ alive .7, With dark faces looking over guns that were thrust through between the posts of the palisade, and a second roar and running flash r. of, light came from the pah itself. Dick had been right-again. (To bo Continued.)