But we found there was some foundation for Tiki’s spouting monster. It happened in this way. In the afternoon we travelled along the bank of a mountain stream, that ran down from the Great Tapu beyond. It was a small body of water in a deep rocky bed. We followed it up for several hours, and by sunset reached what we took to be its source—a deep pool, some twenty yards across, at the foot of a tremendous rocky cliff, on the face of which grew rare ferns, with here and there the crimson or white rata vine. The quiet overflow of this pool swept down beneath high banks, whose flowers and ferns were now flushed and glistening in the sun, which sent a few struggling rays between the black trunks of some mountain birches. It was a pleasant spot, with a broad green bank on the one hand, where the afternoon sun had found an entrance, while, on the other, where the sunlight never reached, a perfect grotto of rare ferns grew from the crevices of the rocks that composed the high overhanging bank.
Here upon the broad green sward we built our camp fire and prepared to stay the night, and it was here that the strange thing happened which went a long way to confirm Tiki in his ideas of the haunted mountain and perplexed us not a little. Twilight was deepening over the gloomy hills, and the silence in which bush travellers hear mysterious noises grew deeper and deeper as the late-singing birds stopped their songs one by one to make way for the little owls. We sat upon the bank of the pool, smoking after our meal and looking idly at the water, when the Maori’s quick ear caught some unusual sound. He sprang up and stood stock still, with a scared look upon his face.
“Is it a taniwha coming, Tiki?” I asked, for I could hear nothing.
Presently, however, a distant moaning sound seemed to come out of the ground.
“The earth is shivering,” said Kahikatea, rising from his sitting posture.
“It is nothing, Tiki,” I cried; “it’s only Ru, your restless earthquake-god, turning in his rocky bed. He is rearranging his mat and his pillow; he’ll soon settle down again.”
But the sound grew nearer and louder, and the bank on which we stood trembled visibly. Then there was a hollow roar underground, and Tiki, without waiting to see what came of it, shrieked “Taniwha!” and turned to fly.
But Kahikatea was too quick for him. His long arm swept out and caught the Maori by the shoulder. Then, as he wheeled him round and nailed him to the spot, a great torrent of water burst forth out of the pool, and rose to a height of ten or fifteen feet in the air, swelling the stream level with its banks as it swept away. The noise of this rushing fountain, as it rose and fell into the pool, drowned all speech, and for some minutes we stood looking at it, too surprised to speak. I heard a howl of fear from Tiki, as my friend, gripping him by both arms from behind, made him face it.
“It’s an intermittent spring,” roared Kahikatea presently, above the tumult.
We watched the column of water springing now several feet higher, and then sinking lower as its force increased and abated alternately, and shouted many conjectures between the howls of Tiki. The seething pool dashed spray in our faces, and we drew back.