"But a short time was there to consider what should now be done. The pursuing Ngapuhi were close at their heels. The sacred tiki was placed in the branches of a tree for safety. And as the yelling and elated victors came bounding down the gully, brave old Tuwhare and his remaining warriors, with merè in hand and war-cry ringing through the woods, hurled themselves against the foe. Overpowered by numbers, and by superiority of weapons, the grim fight was soon over, and the last of the Ngatewhatua were slain. But, beside their bodies, many a Ngapuhi corpse showed that the vanquished had died as warriors should.
"The Ngapuhi who had slain Tuwhare, cut off the dead chiefs head, and placing it in the nearest tree, rushed back towards Marahemo to summon Hongi. Now Hongi was brave as man could be, but, like all Maoris then, he was intensely superstitious, and held all the Maori gods and devils in the very highest respect.
"Hongi and his principal warriors were led across the field of battle by the lucky slayer of the Ngatewhatua chief, in order that they might insult and taunt Tuwhare's head, as was their custom. When they were all assembled round the tree, with the bodies of the dead lying about where they had fallen—'There! that's the place, to the left yonder, where the koraka trees are thickest!'—the branches were drawn aside to expose the grim trophy of the conquered chief. There it was, sure enough, just where the victor had put it, fresh and gory, with its white locks and richly tattooed features. But, oh, horror of horrors! right above the head, with all its hideous fluttering adornments of feathers and tassels, was the horrible, grotesque, and grinning idol!
"Chance had led the slayer of Tuwhare to put his head into the self-same tree where the dead ariki had, a short time previously, disposed the tiki. There it now appeared, stuck in a fork, just where he had put it for safety. None of the Ngapuhi knew how it had got there, and to their superstitious minds it seemed to have come by supernatural means. And this thing was tapu in the most deadly degree.
"The mighty and terrible Hongi trembled and shrieked when he saw the unlooked-for wonder. He and his men turned and ran out of the amphitheatre of the bay as fast as they could, shouting, 'Te tapu! te tapu! The gods have taken to themselves the bodies of the slain!'
"So they left this part of the battle-field, not daring to carry off the bodies as usual for a cannibal orgy. A long time afterwards, Tama, and certain priests of the almost exterminated Ngatewhatua tribe, ventured to return here. With much solemn karakia and propitiatory sacrifice, they tremblingly crept into the precincts of the bay. They placed the remains of their kindred in the forks of the trees, and hid the sacred tiki for ever from mortal eyes. Then they departed, and the ægis of a holy place invests for posterity Te Puke Tapu.
"It is a charnel-house if you like, under those trees there, but a very beautiful one as is evident. We ought to keep alive the memories that make the place romantic. It would be a pity if utilitarian axe and fire were to spoil the beauty of Te Puke Tapu. There is plenty of other good land to be had. No need for us to covet this, fertile as it is; no need to make a commonplace farm out of that picturesque old battle-ground. May it long remain just as it is now—a lovely natural monument to ancient Maori valour, a quiet undisturbed resting-place for the warrior dead, the patriot chivalry of the Ngatewhatua!"
Such is our show-place and its tale.