"'Close call!' as the backwoodsmen say; but that sort of thing's all luck. Look at Ropata! You'd think he stood up on purpose to be shot at—shilling a shot kind of business. Never been touched yet. No wonder they call him 'Waha Waha.' 'The devil or some untoward saint' has an eye to him, the Tohungas say."
"He's a grand soldier. It's lucky for us that he's on our side. Reckless and ruthless, a true Ngatiporou.—Hallo! what tribe do you belong to?" continued he, as he pointed to a tall Maori standing within a few paces of them. "Why, it's Warwick! How in the world did you get so close to us without our hearing you?"
"Only in the way some Waikato will sneak you, lieutenant, if you are not more careful—when you'll be shot before you have time to lift your hand. My native relatives taught me that and other things when I was young."
"And what news have you? Anything important?"
"That's as it may be. Large bodies of the Ngaiterangi have commenced to move forward towards the Orakau. We shall have a big affair soon. I fell in with a scout of the Arawa named Taranui, and he was of the same way of thinking. Said the Ngaiterangi were closing up. But I must deliver my report at headquarters first."
Whereupon Warwick departed. He had divested himself of his European garments, and was attired chiefly in a flax mat (pureke), a tapona (war-cloak), and other strictly Maori habiliments, with a heitiki suspended from his neck; his muscular arms and lower leg were bare. He looked so like a native that only by close inspection could he be detected.
"The gods be praised!" said Mr. Slyde, fervently. "Men getting mouldy here. Another month or two like this would demoralize them. Out of hand a trifle already. Look at Warwick! Doesn't he glide along, at that half run, half walk of the natives? At this distance no one would take him for a white man. Have all the news when he comes to supper."
With this hope before them, the friends addressed themselves to such occupations as were available, and awaited the evening meal, when Warwick would have an opportunity of unloading his budget. When the bugle-call sounded the welcome invitation, they descried him lounging down from the other end of the camp in undress uniform, having taken the opportunity to remove every trace of his recent experiences.
"And now for your adventures, Warwick," said Massinger, as, having settled to the after-supper pipe, the little party seated themselves on a rude bench constructed of fern stems some ten feet in length, and supported on blocks of the pahautea. "It doesn't happen to rain now, wonderful to relate, and the moon, taking heart and encouragement, 'diffuses her mild rays,' as the poets say, through this ancient and darksome woodland. Did you see any of the Ngaiterangi?"
"I did indeed, nearer than I liked," answered Warwick; "and but for a lucky chance they would have seen me, in which case you would never have seen me again—alive that is."