[CHAPTER IV]
IN THE OTAPAWA STOCKADE
The return from Keteonetea—The hill-fort at Otapawa—A korero with the Hauhaus—Bent's one-eyed wife—"The wooing o' 't"—Bent is christened "Ringiringi."
Morning came at last, but the solitary white man in this nest of savages had hardly closed his eyes. More than once he fancied some one was trying the low door of the wharé, and he looked round the dimly-lighted hut—a small fire was kept burning in the centre of the floor—in search of a weapon, but found none. Bent lay there, listening intently, and longing with an inexpressibly bitter longing for the old camp-life, hard though it was, and for the sound of a white comrade's voice. It had not always been "pack-drill and C.B." in his army life, in spite of the tyrant sergeants. But now it was the bush and the wharé for the rest of his days—or, in other words, for just so long a period as he might be able to save his head from the tomahawk.
Daybreak—and no sooner was it light than the Hauhaus began to gather round the pakeha's hut, while the women were lighting the hangis—the earth steam-ovens—for the first meal of the day. "Come out to us!" they yelled; "come out, pakeha!" They ran to and fro in front of the wharé, and raised barking cries that sounded fearfully menacing to the pakeha sitting on his low mat-bed, and feeling not in the least disposed to respond to the invitation to come outside and be killed.
But the old chief speedily ended the uproar by opening the sliding door and shouting angrily:
"Haere atu! Haere atu!" an imperative phrase that the deserter had already learned to recognise as one that could be exactly translated "Clear out!"
Thereafter there was comparative peace. The white man was under the protection of the chief, and was allowed to wander round the village pretty much as he chose; but he was warned not to go far, or some warrior might take a fancy to his head.