I could never do it, and was painfully turning my canoe to get back to the beach when I heard a deep-chested Maori shout come pealing over the water, and looking in the direction from whence it came, I saw a large canoe with a dozen sturdy paddlers bearing down on me. In a few minutes I was in it, lying down on a heap of fern; and I must have fainted, but soon came to, to find the canoe tearing through the water, while fourteen stalwart warriors howled a canoe song to bring me back to life and give time to the paddles. We soon reached Wai-Tangi, and I was carried up to my hut, all the Maoris holding a big tangi (weeping match) over my accident and blaming themselves for the misadventure that had happened to their guest. "Te Parione" (my Maori name) quoth the chief, "your mana (luck) is very great. If you had fallen three days ago where would you have been now?" It was not a nice conundrum to puzzle over, so I went to sleep instead. CHAPTER XIII A TROOPER'S REGARD FOR HIS TRUST AND HORSE Years ago on the Taupo line (the road running from Napier to Lake Taupo) everything used by the men garrisoning the forts on the line had to be carried on pack-horses from the town of Napier up to the headquarters (Opepe), and this necessitated hard work and required hard language on the part of the troopers escorting the pack train, which consisted of some sixty horses and mules. Of course the men were held responsible for the goods or valuables entrusted to them, and they regarded this trust as a point of honour that must be guarded even with life. Now why a pack-mule or a transport ox won't go without the strongest language I don't know; but they won't; and in making this assertion I am only stating a well-known and proven fact. No matter how good a man may be with a stock-whip, or a waggon-whip, he will not get a journey or trek out of his beasts unless he beguiles them with the most powerful and sultry talk. I have never known a man to love a pack-mule, nor to caress one, and although you will find a trooper fond of and kind to most animals, yet somehow he draws the line at a mule. For his horse he will do anything--beg for it, lie for it, steal for it, halve his last bit of bread with it, and willingly risk his life for it--but not for a pack-mule. No, a pack-mule has few friends, and though men do their duty by them they don't give up their only blanket to them on a bitter cold night; and I have known many a trooper do that for his horse. However, I am getting off the right spoor, so must try back for the yarn. On the Taupo line, at the time I mention, about 1872---the exact date I forget, and is of no consequence---the forces were rationed by a firm of contractors who had the right to run a canteen at each of the forts.