rags of shirt that still
remain about him. The other day I saw Tama at the township, elaborately
attired in black broadcloth and white linen and all the rest of it,
looking a perfect picture of smug respectability and aged innocence.
Now here he is, grasping a tomahawk in his sinewy hand, with a knife
held between his teeth, and--albeit 'tis only a boar he is
attacking--with a fire dancing in his eyes like that which shone there
in his hot youth, when, here in these self-same woods, he and the young
braves of his tribe met in deadly conflict with the invading Ngapuhi.

The boar is unconscious of Tama's approach; he is occupied with his
adversaries in front, who are redoubling their efforts to attract his
attention. And at this moment another of the hunters is seized with an
heroic impulse.

It has at last come home to the mind of that impetuous and much
objurgated dog, Shark, that his destiny in life is to be a boar-hound.
Hitherto, his experience of the manners and customs of pigs has not been
great; but the conviction has come to him that he knows all about the
business; and, too, he is probably anxious to retrieve his disgraceful
conduct of the morning. Shark is a fresh arrival on the scene, having
just come in with one of the straggling parties. He is not contented to
join his canine companions, who are warily waiting their opportunity to
dash in on the boar's flanks and rear; but, like all high-couraged and
impetuous youth, Shark dashes, barking, to the front, and blindly,
quixotically, and madly, he charges on the boar.

Alas! poor dog! great as was his bravery, his size, his strength, what
could they avail in such foolhardy strife? One jerk of the black snout,
one flash of the white tusks, and, with a last yelping scream, the body
of poor Shark goes whirling up into the air, and falls a bleeding,
bisected, lifeless lump. Poor Shark! with all his faults, I think we
loved him well!

But even in his death he is avenged. The boar darted a few feet forward
in his onslaught upon Shark, and the opportunity has been seized upon.
The war-cry of the Ngatewhatua goes echoing through the forest, as old
Tama springs down in rear of the boar; his swinging tomahawk inflicts a
gaping wound, and he seizes a hind leg of the pig before that animal can
back itself among the roots.

Other Maoris, Old Colonial, and more of the party rush to his aid. Dogs
seize on the boar's bleeding ears. For a minute there is a scene of
direful