With Te Kooti the case was different. He was not a belligerent, but an outlaw and, had he been caught, would undoubtedly have been hanged, if only for his behaviour at Poverty Bay.
Kepa, starting in January, 1870, from the Bay of Plenty, moved south along the gorges of the Waimana to meet Ropata, who from Poverty Bay marched north upon Maunga Pohatu, about midway between the points of departure. Ropata fought and slew; Kepa, more diplomatic, made peace; but each in his fashion won the Uriwera tribes from Te Kooti, whom they kept continually upon the move, driving him from his last stronghold at Maraetahi, whence he escaped with only twenty men.
The last chase of all started from Poverty Bay in June, 1871, four flying columns taking the route under Ropata, Captain Porter, Henare Potae, and Ruku Te Arutupu. The courage and endurance of the men were tried to the uttermost, for winter in the Uriwera Mountains, that beautiful, but terribly rough and savage country, was no light thing, and for a time the hunters had nothing but their trouble for their pains.
But the luck at last fell to Captain Porter, who was trailing along the northern end of Lake Waikare Moana (Sea of the Rippling Waters) in the dreadful heart of the Uriwera country, and there he came up with his man.
The excitement was tremendous, for they could look down from the range where they stood into the valley where they knew Te Kooti to be. A false step now, and all the toil and suffering would be wasted. Porter spent most of the raw winter night in stealing as close as he dared to the clearing, in the midst of which, in an old whare, Te Kooti slept, unconscious of his danger.
With the dawn, Henare Potae lay on the right of the clearing, Ruku Te Arutupu on the left, and Porter covered the centre. At a given time Ruku was to enter the clearing, call to the sleeping folk that they were surrounded, and summon them to surrender. If they refused, they were to be shot at once, while a particularly sharp lookout was to be kept for Te Kooti, who was to be allowed no chance whatever.
Quivering with excitement, the men breathlessly awaited the appearance of Ruku. All was quiet as death which loomed so near; but Ruku came not. Only an old woman issued from a whare and began to pick up sticks for her morning fire. Still Ruku did not show himself, and Porter grew impatient, stirring in his place.
Then he held still as a mouse; for from another whare came a dog, stretching himself and yawning, who suddenly elevated a sensitive, inquisitive nose, snuffed the morning air and began to bark furiously, knowing, though his masters did not, that something was amiss. To him came out another woman, hushing him and staring about her; and those who knew whispered, "It is Olivia, Te Kooti's wife! He is there!"
Porter heard and trembled. He knew the excitability of his men, and dreaded lest the premature explosion of a rifle—as had so often happened—should warn the Hauhau of their proximity. So little would spoil so much. If his men should lose their heads—Oh, absit omen!
The dog whined and capered, Olivia stood, undecided, and in the hush Te Kooti's voice reached the watchers, "What ails the dog?" Olivia, after one more swift glance round, answered, "Nothing!"