ated by Whitmore's manner, left him
half-way. For himself the little colonel, all wire and leather, knew
not fatigue. But even the best of his men were pretty well worn out
when they did at last catch a Tartar in the shape of the enemy's
rearguard. The latter made a stand under cover, in an angle of the
narrow bed of a mountain-torrent floored with boulders and shut in
by cliffs. Our men, asked to charge in single file, hung back, and a
party of Native allies sent round to take the Hau Haus in flank made
off altogether. Though Te Kooti was shot through the foot, the pursuit
had to be given up. The net result of the various skirmishes with him
had been that we had lost twenty-six killed and wounded, and that he
had got away.

Whitmore went away to take command on the west coast. Thus Te Kooti
gained time to send messengers to the tribes, and many joined him. He
spoke of himself as God's instrument against the _Pakeha_, preached
eloquently, and kept strict discipline amongst his men. In November,
after a three months' lull, he made his swoop on his hated enemies the
settlers in Poverty Bay, and in a night surprise took bloody vengeance
for his sojourn at the Chathams. His followers massacred thirty-three
white men, women and children, and thirty-seven natives. Major Biggs
was shot at the door of his house. Captain Wilson held out in his till
it was in flames. Then he surrendered under promise of life for his
family, all of whom, however, were at once bayonetted, except a boy
who slipped into the scrub unnoticed. McCulloch, a farmer, was shot as
he sat milking. Several fugitives owed their lives to the heroism of a
friendly chief, Tutari, who refused to gain his life by telling their
pursuers the path they had taken. The Hau Haus killed him and seized
his wife, who, however, adroitly saved both the flying settlers and
herself by pointing out the wrong track. Lieutenant Gascoigne with a
hasty levy of friendly Natives set out after the murderers, only to be
easily held in check at Makaretu with a loss of twenty-eight killed
and wounded. Te Kooti, moreover, intercepted an ammunition train and
captured eight kegs of gunpowder. Fortifying himself on a precipitous
forest-clad hill named Ngatapa, he seemed likely to rally round him
the disaffected of his race. But his red star was about to wane.
Ropata with his Ngatiporou now came on the scene. A second attack
on Makaretu sent the insurgents flying. They left thirty-seven dead
b