Garden of Pararae

Otago Witness, Issue 3864, 3 April 1928, Page 62

Garden of Pararae

New Zealand j J

BY

Michael Storm and Fenyas Dunlop.

(Copyright.—Fob the Otago Witness.)

SYNOPSIS.

■CHAPTER I. —John Garden, of Pakarae, la talking to Charlie, his man-servant, about the rumours spread by Te Raugiawatea {a friendly Maori chief) concerning the rising of the Hauhaus under Kereopa, -when Mr Manuel, a man of Spanish extraction, whose daughter, Winnie, is in love with Garden, comes to the house for his mail. Just then Wilson, the missionary, appears with the news that Mr Volkner, another missionary, has been killed by the Hauhaus, who are on their way to Poverty Bay ready to attack the settlement at Tauranga. (Another name for Kereopa’s tribe is the Night-marching Ureweras.) While they are talking there is a rattle of musketry, and they can see the Hauhaus in the Native village. CHAPTER ll.—Anne Caversham comes from England to live at Tauranga with her uncle. Colonel Caversham, officer in charge of the district. One day she is warned by Potaka, a Maori prophetess, to beware of Kereopa’s men, and to wait for a lover in the form of a splendid pakeha. CHAPTER lll.—Charlie and Wilson escape towards Tauranga with Mrs Wilson. Manuel disappears, and Garden, lying in ambush near the village, is suddenly joined by Winnie. CHAPTER IV.—At Tauranga, where Charlie gives the news, Anne is told of Garden, his horse Marie, and his reputation as a friend of Winnie, the half-caste. CHAPTER V. —Garden tells Winnie that his mother was an actress and his father a soldier. While they are watching, they see Manuel join the Hauhaus and then-dis-appear, and later espy his cutter, the Turnagain, in the harbour. They secure horses and ride to Tauranga. Winnie asks Garden if he loves her, but he says: “ Not in that wsy.” CHAPTER Vl.—At the settlement, Winnie is taken care of by Anne, who feels enmity not against the half-caste girl, but against Garden for'Being (apparently) fond of her. CHAPTER Vll.—Manuel has secretly gone to Kereopa, telling him of Te Rangi’s plans, and urging him to advance upon Tauranga. His cutte.- carries rifles for the rebels. He asks that when the Maoris are victorious they will grant him the life of John Garden. CHAPTER Vlll.—Anne leaves on Garden's horse to warn the other settlers. While she <s away the Ngatiporos, a friendly Masri h-ibe, arrive, headed by Te Rangi, who says %e comes in peace. CHAPTER IX, Anne meanwhile rode eff at a sharp gallop. This she found exhilarating, the rush through the air, cooled with the ‘ movement and stinging, and the excite- ' ment occasioned by her errand. She gloried in the thought that on her efforts hung the salvation of all the settlers of the valley, and also of Tauranga. Unconsciously she also gloried in the thought that the stern and immobile leader of the defence (for such in practice, if not in theory, John Garden was) should have chosen her for such an cr-and. Her blood thrilled and coursed strongly through her veins as she realised it. The courage of her .soldier ancestry welled up anew, and Anne set her mind clearly and definitely on her riding. The green track through tlxe paddocks Wavered as it flew past;, the high hills passed one after another like so many sentries standing waiting. Birds and rabbits scurried from under the horses hoofs, and Anne reached Lessing’s, the first squatter on the valley route. Lessing, a thoughtful, bearded man of about 45, came to the door, and betrayed certain astonishment at the sight- erf the colonel’s niece, all bothered and dishevelled with haste. Dear me, Miss Caversham, come inside, My wife’ll be main glad to see you. Mary, my ” But Anne broke in hurriedly. - “Mr Lessing, there's not a moment to lose. Kereopa and his men are even now marching tn Tauranga, he means to exterminate us if be can. Get Mrs Lessing and the family, and fly for your lives into the blockhouse. Uncle and Mr Garden are organising a defence there, and they want you to go quickly, and carry with you what stores of food you can muster at the moment. I can't stay. I am going further up the valley to warn the others.” “ Oh, but wait a minute, Miss Caversham. I can go and warn some of the families, and leave my boy, Jim, to harness the buggy apd drive the others in, and one of the men can take the horses, God, what a frightful thing! When did you hear, and where are they likely to be now?” In as few words as possible Anne told Mr Lessing the whole story, and he, after listening gravely without interruption, called his wife, and' told her also. She, too, listened calmly, and turned about to face misfortune and perhaps death with the indomitable courage and practical comnion'sense of the early pioneer. “ Yes, go, Tom,”, she said, “ and help Miss Caversham warn the others. Jim and I can collect what we can of the stock and drive them in, and I can take as much produce as t&e buggy will hold in case of a siege. You go quickly, Tom -—don’t lose a minute.” Thus with calm and courage did Mary Lessing prepare ,to do her part. Anne decided with Air Lessing that she would go to five of the neater houses down the river bank covering a distance of not

more than seven miles, while be would go to the outlying places up to 12 miles down the road route, though what was a road to them would only xicur to us to he in the nature of a track. All through the mid-day heat and early afternoon rode Anne, rousing first one and then another, and bidding them make their way with all speed to the town, where they would find what comparative safety they could hope to. The slowlyflowing and sluggish river showed her the path, and she galloped bravely on till all were vfarned. Everywhere did she find the same worthy sp’rit—the same way of facing danger that was embedded in the soul of the Britisher—that has done from the days of those flaming “ men of the creeks,” our wonderful Viking forefathers, even to their protagonists of to-day. All were warned, all prepared, and Anne turned her face southwards and homewards. She turned her horse's head in the direction of the river bank, but paused amazed. What was that coming down the river in the distance? Anne was rooted to the spot with terror. She could not move or even urge her horse on. There were war canoes coming down the river. Five 70-oared, monstrous war canoes! And sitting at the 70 oars in each boat were 70 painted and feathered savages, chanting as they bent to their oars, as primitive people will always chant in rhythmic accompaniment to their movements. Had they seen her? Anne’s heart beat to suffocation, but her numbed faculties returned. She must hide till they were past, and then ride by a circuitous route south; and endei vour to reach the township before them. Casting her eyes round she sighted a nearby grove of native trees : nd scrub growing at the foot of a hill. It was her only chance of cover and she fled to it and concealed herself and Tilda among the branches. Had they not already spied her out, she was safe. With trembling heart but steady hands she waited till the chant of the Maoris grew louder and stronger, more plaintive, ye more thrilling. The girl thought she had never heard more wonderful appealing strains than the boat-song of these wild untutored children. Spellbound she listened. until at length the river was silent, the last wild notes had died away, the last carven prow and waving head-dress had vanished downstream. Then she turned inland and sought for another track than the usual one that followed the river. Ignorant of the way, frantic with haste she’many times went quite astray through trying to make impossible detours. At last she made the hills and scrambled away round the north end of the settlement, descending on the town from the hills. Such thoughts were scurrying through Anne’s brain on that mad homeward ride. ■She half feared to hear the terrible battle cries of the rebels as thej T fell on the town. She hoped to be able to reach the settlement in time to die with her uncle and her friends. And Mr. Gar-den ! He would be with Winnie Manuel, of course. How she had disliked and scorned him, yet how manly and how serene he had been. She wondered vaguely how he would look in a fight, how he would comport himself, if he would fight as well as he organised. She could not account that vague and incomprehenstve thrill that ran through her, imagining this thing. She thought that if she had to die, she would perhaps prefer that it should be by his hand—it would be thorough, ?t she thought she Hid not like him but only trusted him. She did not stay to consider whether one might trust a man and find him wholly unlikeable! Now she was clearing the brow of the hill and must gallop down straight into the townshin Her heart nn-ain and her hands shook on the reins with • 2, R ’ fear that her mien failed to show. She. cantered gently down and rode straight into th? square, and there she saw the horde of -"•ild painted savages, mt brandishing “ Taiahas ” not casting spears, not uttering war-cries, but gently and -ypicablv eng'’-rcd in -eonvprc-j.tmn with the settlers. Their chief, easily recognisable. bv .his kiwi feather mat and bv his taiaha, was in deep and ''arnest conversation with her -uncle, Captaun ' nr k find John Garden. She gave a little erv that was • instantaneously heard and responded to by John Darden. Hastily turning and seeing her he rah to lift her from the saddle and caught her trembling and tense form in Ins arms for n second. „ - n .T' lose Natives?’ she stammered; Whet nrP fhev’ I’ve evaded and fled from them for nearly twelv e miles. I’ve been in all sorts, of bvewavs and sidu-f-ronh-s end been Inst a dnren times tn ?u. W lr ew ’ Aren’t they Kereopa’s men? Oh. Mr Garden, I’ve been frightened.” At these words from the usually intiepid Anne, John Garden’s -face took bn in ■wt’wwsim of profound: regret. ' ' ' > : "Whv tbpv’re the. Nmi tiporcs, come to our rescue! Miss Caversham, they’ll just

save us. But you poor girl you’ve had too much. I shouldn’t have let you go. I must have been mad.” He failed to acknowledge to himself that he had been piqued by her obvious dislike, and he had sent her, partly wishing in a contrary kind of mood to find her but. ; But of course I thought they were Kereopa s.-men -coming down the river instead of the valley route to .take you by surprise. I thought—-oh I thought that you would all be fighting when I arrived —perhaps dead. Instead of which—is this safety? ”

tf l * 3 alliance of the Ngatiporos will tend to turn the scale in our favour. Even then we cannot be absolutely sure how things will go. The Hauhaus still outnumber us. But we’ve ever hope now and at least a fighting chance.’’ _ Not even to re-assure the girl would John Garden depart from the truth and disguise the fact that matters were pretty serious still for the little force. Had it pot been for the arrival of Te Rangi with his braves they would certainly have been wiped out, but now they stood a chance provided Te Rangi’s loyalty held. They also had the insensate strength to contend frjth, that was born of religious fanaticism, but that, he did not think it necessary to tell her. Anne was quickly pulling herself together after her ordeal, and John looked at her with increasing admiration. He deeply approved of a woman of spirit She straightened herself up, the blood began flow back into her cheeks, her glorious eyes gazed deep into. John Garden’s. Neither spoke. The clatter of weapons, . the neighing of horses, the hum of the natu e chatter made itself heard around them, but they themselves kept silence for a space. On each of them descended the quiet before the battle, the peace .before .the storm, on John because speech was not easy in’his mouth with this woman, and on her because she was drinking in something that was new to her Awhile they stood thus, meditating . and serene, John caught in the fathom’ less deeps that were that lady's eyes, and she measuring the ealm that was m him and wishful tp fathom his truth Deeps stirred then in each. The approaching of battle, the stalking danger awoke a crying need in each, an elementary, unknown sensation, tearing and riving. The serenity began to flee before this oncoming stride, and Ann broke the silence. “What would you like? To fight by emerging from that unspoken, subliminal world and half ashamed, .forcing* her thoughts back to the practical, sober reality of the danger. Winnie was forgotten for the moment, and she appealed to this man as to a leader, and as to a trusted confident. For a moment there was no answer. The man. being man, was further submerged than the woman in that inward intoxication of calm and storm, who knows what mingled emotions. Presently he spoke, and with complete control, teasingly. “ What would yiu like? To fight by our sides with carbine and musket? We could at least die fighting. But seriously there’ll be plenty for you to do, as soon as the real fighting begins, in the way of fixing up the poor beggars that get potted! We haven’t many women here, so vou’ll be kept pretty busy.” r l j “Let me se,” said Anne. “There will be Mrs Wilson, and Mrs Lessing, and three other settlers’ wives. There aren’t any more are there? ” “ No, that s all the women there are round about here, and Miss Manuel, of course.” “ Oh, yes,” murmured Anne reflectively, “Miss Manuel, of course.” What’s that?” ejaculated Garden suddenly. “See that cloud of dust over there, Miss Caversham? ” A moment they watched, till the filmy cloud resolved itself into a single flying horseman, riding a? though the devil himself were following, which, as it happened, was not very far from the truth. Nearer he came and nearer, riding ventre-a-■terre, with a style that they quickly recognised as that of Richard, the most outlying of the squatters, a young fellow not long out from Home, and famed as the next notorious to Garden for daring and skilful riding. Richard plunged up to the group, flung himself from his horse, panting and breathless, “ Good God, men, get into the blockhouse, can’t you, don’t stand staring like a set of blind puppies. The Hauhaus are just behind me. I was a bit long in getting my traps together, when there was a stir down the track, and there I saw the blighters coming. Reckoned they’d take me by sin-prise and get me nicely, but they’ve got my cattle all right. Luckily this- steed of mine was just tied at the gate, and I looped on and bolted. They’ll probably stay to drive in my stock, but they can’t be very far behind.” “ That’s an extraordinary quick advance for the night-marching Ureweras. To the blockhouse, boys,” shouted the colonel, “Te Rangi a word with you.” A cloud rose before Garden’s .eyes. He visualised the girl he had sent on that ■ perilous ride in the hands of the marderails Kereopa—alive, and through his sending; He pictured her struggles, the gloating and fiendish glee in the eyes of a savage, the most-treacherous of the North Island. He shuddered, but looking up caught sight of a pair of magnificent eyes. Anne had joined the group to hear Richard’s story, and was standing for a second wondering at the curious look on his face. Safe 1 - For the- moment, iat ahyrate, she was safe. Of the future he must ■ not think; > ; Suddenly she turned to him. ’* "Where is Miss Manuel? ” she said. 11 Isn't shg in the courthouse? *

No, I don’t think so. I think she went over to our house, but I’m not sure 1 H go and see, and fetch her.” Without a moment’s hesitation she turned to t* l ® direction of their house. But John overtook her in a few strides ana held her by the arm. ~- . “ No .y°u don't, Miss Caversham. Not + f ime - You’ve risked enough for to-day. I will go and find Mis s Manuel. "U the blockhouse.** “No, you go to the men and the defence. 111 go after Miss Manuel.” Garden took her gently by both arms and propelled her. in th e direction of safety You go info t) )e blockhouse,” ho said. “I shall find Miss ManueL” „ Anne obeyed without further demur bhe remembered with a sudden wave of recollection the now astonishing fact that Garden and Miss Manuel were to all intents and purposes lovers. It seemed suddenly to have become astonishing, even perhaps a little painful. It was right, though, that he should save her, halfcaste though she was, she was very lovely. Anne went into tlie blockhouse, having shed any fear that might have ' ln gered, in a glow of recollection. John, meanwhile, raced down to the colonel 3 house, up the drive, and into the hall without any ceremony. “ Winnie, Winnie,” he shouted. “ Are you there? ” There was no reply. Loath to make anv mistake, raced over the house, into each room. . At last he found a room which, from its pink and white fragrance its spotless dimity, its rose coverlet,’ its perfum e of pot-pourri, reminiscent of an old garden, he guessed to be Anne’s, .there, on the quaint old bedstead lay a girl, not the exquisite, sculptured fairness. to whom the room belonged but the dark, savage beauty of Winnie.’ But there was no time to be lost in admiration, and th e heavy scent o,f the magnolia pouring in through the open window w asted its sweetness. “ Wake up, Winnie, quick, you must go to the blockhouse. The Haiihaus are here and there’s not a second to lose Wake up. child.” But Winnie was heavy with sleen the strong scent of magnolia wooed in drowsiness, and she smiled a little as s ’°e lifted her eyelids, heavy with dreams. You, Katene, you come to me in sleep, Katene. Ah, Katene, tak e me in your arms. How I love you, Katene.” bhe stretched out to him passionate arms and lifted to him eyes yea ini no-with longing—-the eyes of a passionate 5 and loving child. “ Quick, Winnie,” he replied. “ There’s no time to lose, dear. Wake up and come_with me to a place of safety.” No, Katene. Let us stay here and die together. “What? Fall into the hands of that old ruffian? You don’t know whatevou’re saying, child. Quick! Come !” " He loosened the hands that wound themselves round his neck and averted his eves from the beautiful, bewitching girl, ignorant child as he knew her to e. She did not move. He seized her up in his arms and carried her bodily from that perfumed room, down the stairs past the old magnolia weighted with blossoms and humming with bees, r a^e h e her down with a slight shake. “Now run Winnie,” h e said, “run tor your life. Seizing her hand, they ran side bv side hke a couple of children. And so they looked to Anne, who saw them coming anxiously watching for their arrival from the yet open doorwav. “ In you go, Winnie,” said John, half thrusting her into the doorway. Racing back again to secure several loose horses° he was gone for a matter of a few minutes only, when th e sudden yell of the approaching force broke the' stillness The settlers were to have been taken by surprise by this rapid night and day march. So exceptional a piece of strategy t thoTl Sht impossible of failure. But John dashed in and bolted the doors in face of the approaching foe, nearly falling thereby into the arms of Miss Caversham. The siege of Tauranga had begun

CHAPTER X. -A fortnight had passed since the arrival of the rebels, and the little handful of settlers still remained under cover of the blockhouse. Out on the flats their clearings and farmsteads remained deserted and idle. It was mid-December, and the hot colonial summer was at its height. No rain had fallen, and- the scorching sun had parched the grasses brown, ard, save in the swamps and morasses that here and there intersected the plain, the woterlroles and wells had dried. At the little township, dependent for water upon tanks and cisterns, the drought was severely felt, and the difficulty of providing water, stores, and forage for the settlers and the troops and friendly Natives now assembled was acute. The plains to within a few miles of the settlement were held by the rebels, bands of whom ravaged tlie district tak-ing-toll at pleasure of the abandoned stock, sheep, (rattle, and horses of the settlers. Only tlie few farmers, whose holdings lay to the north of the bay along' the coast, under the protection partly of the blockhouse and partly of the friendly Ngatiporo, were immune from raiding Hauhaus. Kereopa, disappointed of the arms and ammunition promised him by the trader, and foiled ’y delay in his projected surprise attack upon Tauranga, had with his followers taken possession of a deserted mission station some 10 miles up the river. With the exception of Ngatiporo the native tribes of the hinterland and the coast, affected by the fanatical superstitions of Hauhauism, had sent their warriors to join him, or at the best, sulked in their pas, and the rebel had now in his camp at least 500 -men, for the most part armed. ; •

The force available for the defence of the settlement comprised the volunteer settlers, 30 in number, and a troop of the Forest Rangers, some 20 hard-riding, hard-drinking, devil-may-care troopers enlisted from amongst the class of unsuccessful settlers in the populated country districts about Auckland and Wellington. Te Rangi Awatea, with 200 Ngatiporo warriors, was camped beside the township, but had so far confined his assistance to reconnoitring, and a promise to defend the blockhouse in case of attack. The news brought in by reconnoitring parties and neutral Natives, who in the casual Maori fashion freely came and went from both camps, was that Kereopa had erected a stockade in an open field upon a bend of the rivA’ some 700 yards from the mission station, and in case of attack would withdraw there. The colonel, Garden, and some half dozen of the volunteers were sitting smoking in the little sitting room of the hotel. The room, some 14ft square, and furnished with a few leather-covered chairs and a small table, opened on to the balcony, wliich, built on two sides of the upper storey, commanded a fair view of a considerable part of the plains, and, overlooking the courthouse or blockhouse and the Native camp, formed a convenient look-out. Upon it a sentrv paced up and down, whilst from tlie bars below, on the ground floor of the building, could lie heard the shouting and loud laughter of the troopers, who at this late hour of the afternoon were carousing and roystering in the company of a few of the friendly Natives and some one or two ot the less sober of the volunteers. Through the open window came the voices of children playing in the dusty road.

The discussion in the sitting room was becoming acrimonious. “ Something must be done soon, colonel,” said Lessing. “It is very well for those whose farms have been destroyed to remain here indefinitely. But some of us on the coast want to get back to our work.” ° “ A noble sentiment,” sneered Galbraith. “If the colonel and the rest of us from the flats whose holdings are inside the rebel lines pack up and take the schooner to Sydney, and leave the colony to go to the devil, how long will you have work to go back to ? ” “ Apart from that,” said Lessing, “ the place is not healthy. In this heat the women and children cannot with safety stay here night after night cooped up in the We shall have the typhoid among us. The Ngatiporo's camp is making the surroundings filthy.” “ You were pleased enough to see the Ngatiporos arrive a few days ago, Lessing,” said Galbraith. “ What do you propose to do? Abandon the township? ” “ Something must be done,” said Lessing. “ I would not go as far as to say that. But I don’t know. We might make terms. If we abandoned the township we might extract a promise of protection for the coast. Don’t you think so, Cornwall ? ” Cornwall was the third large landholder on the coast. " Make terms with whom? "With Kereopa? Do you imagine he has any idea in his head but murder and massacre? Think of poor Mr Volkner.” “ Colonel,” said Galbraith, “ what prospect do you think there really is of help from Auckland or Wellington?” “ Yes,” said the colonel; “ there are white men even on the coast who would support him too, I believe, the scoundrel! I am not referring to you, Lessing-” ' “ Who are you referring to then, colonel ? I am no Hauhau, and I certainly sympathise with Maori national aspirations. I think them a fine people. But Kereopa is a blackguard and p.n assassin, and for the honour of Englishmen he must swing.” “ That’s better talk, Lessing.” “ It’s very well, colonel,” said Lessing smiling. “You’re trying to trap me! Kereopa must lie hanged, but he ought to be caught by a regular constabulary and properly tried. I don’t see that wesettlers may not make a peace with Urewera as a tribe. It isn’t really our duty to hunt him down.” “ Well, well. I know your heart’s in the right place. Lessing, and if there’s a scrimmage you’ll be in it,” answered the colonel good huinouredly. “ But I was reallj- thinking of Manuel. I think there is something shifty about that beggar.” - “ Oh, I don’t know,” said Garden. “ He did us good service the other night by intercepting Kereopa.” “ We have only his own word for it, Garden, that he did meet Kereopa and persuade him to desist from his advance on Tau’-anga.” “ Well,” said Garden, “ I saw him with my own eyes. in Kereopa’s- camp that night at Pakarae.” “Did you?” said the colonel. “You didn’t mention it. Perhaps he’s telling tlie troth then.” “ He did good work bringing down Te Rangiawatea and the friendlies at all events. He has great influence with them.” “ Well, I wish he’d influence them to lie less undecided,” said the colonel. “ But what do you want to do, gentlemen?” ■“ Get your rangers to make less confounded racket for one tiling,” said Cornwall sourly, “That’s not what I meant,” said the colonel, " but you can’t expect these new troopers to act like lambs. The boys are certainly very rough and undisciplined, but a lot of their swash-buckling is affection.”

I wish, colonel, the sergeant-major •would not ‘ swash-buckle ’ us, and would treat us more or less like gentlemen,” said a quiet man who had not yet spoken. “ Yes,” said the colonel, “ he is rather a rough sort. The volunteers would probably feel more confidence under a leader less rough. If you care to choose a leader from amongst yourselves, gentlemen, I would willingly appoint him a temporary officer. I think I have that authority, under the regulations. That is, in the field or in the presence of the enemy. I think we may be considered to be in the presence of the enemy. What do you say, gentlemen?” A chorus of approval greeted this very popular suggestion. “ I suggest Garden, said Lessing. He’s the youngest of uc all, but his head is screwed on the right way.” Assenting voices confirmed the proposal. “ What do you say, Garden? ’” asked the colonel. “ I should be glad to serve if I am thought the right man,” said Garden. “ But if I command you, gentlemen, no back-chat, no slack I When I says ‘ ’tion,’ I means ‘ ’tion ! ’ ” Garden’s mobile face took on so precise an invitation of the sergeant-major that even the colonel’s urbane austerity relaxed into laughter. “ We'll tip you the black spot, if you behave that way, skipper,” said someone. “ Well, well, we’ll regard that as settled,” said the colonel. “ Now, gentlemen, lets return to the main point. What do you want to do? ” The men present looked at one another uneasily. The truth was that no two men in the room thought alike. Interests were conflicting, and though the men were Englishmen of honou-, and every man was, in his heart, prepared to do “ the right thing ” at all costs, nearly every man had his own private fortune at stake on the issue, and many views might be maintained as to what “ the right thing ” was.

Lessing’s views were tempered by a genuine respect. Perhaps to Garden alone had the pioneer spirit as yet presented itself as a definite ideal, “ the conquest of die wild.” “ I think, colonel, we should attack the beggars at once,” said Galbraith, at last. “ That’s all very well, "Mr Galbraith,” said the colonel testily. “Do you ask me to order 30 rangers and 30 volunteers to march up to the stockade rrt the face of some 300 rifles ? ” “ What of the friendlies ? Will Ngatiporo not join in a charge?” “ Te Rangi Awatea is stubborn on that point,” answered the colonel. “He will cover a retreat, or help us to drive off or to arrest the rebels, but he will not join in a pitched battle. Many of his people are with them. He stipulates, indeed, for the ultimate pardon of any rebels captured by his men—except, of course, Kereopa,” “ Why not seize the mission, break down the stockade with the cannon, and from cover of the mission orchard and outbuildings make" the pa too hot for the Maoris ? ” said „ Garden. “If a demonstration in force were made I feel sure Kereopa and his men would abandon the mission and. prepare to defend, the stockade. The Maori hates a fight in the open. He must work up his courage in a war dance, and get the fight over quickly before it cools. If we kept them under fire from the mission for a day or two, without assaulting the pa, we could probably wear them down. I needn’t remind you, colonel, how disastrous direct assaults upon Maori fortifications proved in Heke’s wars.” “ They might counter-attack. Such a horde would sweep us away like chaff.” . “ Then hold Rangi to his word. Then would be the time for him to cover our retreat.” “ Yes, Garden,” said the colonel. ‘ But the gun could not be brought to bear. The only practicable place from which it couLd fire on the fort is across a raupo swamp. The horses would never get it into action.”

“ Then use bullocks, colonel. I will back Charlie and his team to drag that gun through any swamp on the earth.” “By Jove, I believe you’re right, Gar- , den,” said the colonel smiling. “ I don’t know that sending artillery into action with a bullock team is strictly according to regulations, nor that' Charlie is the ideal type of artillery man. But your scheme certainly sounds practical. What do you say, gentlemen ? ” The scheme met with general approval, and after a good deal of discussion was agreed to by all present. . “ Well, gentlemen,” said the colonel at a later- stage, ringing for drinks, “ tomorrow is the battle of Waerenga.” (To be continued.)