Camp Fire Yarns of the Lost LegionHamilton-Browne, G.
History
Camp Fire Yarns of the Lost Legion
Hamilton-Browne, G.
Māori (New Zealand people) -- Warfare; New Zealand -- History -- Anecdotes; Zulu War, 1879
It was a very grave risk to run, but it was a case of Hobson's choice,
that or none; so, after a long look at the hills, to see if I could
spot any signs of danger from them, I hardened my heart, descended
with a nasty scramble and made for the entrance of the gully I had
seen from the plain. I had no sooner reached the mouth of it than I
reined up sharply, for there, clearly defined, and not twenty-four
hours old, were the tracks of at least twenty, perhaps thirty, horses
that, coming from the north, had turned to the right on reaching the
big gully and proceeded towards the hills. As there was no spoor
returning, it was evident that a number of the enemy must be located
in their bushed recesses, and, in case they should have spotted me,
they would most certainly do their best to cut me off. Yet, as their
horses had used the gully, there must be a way out of it, and if I
made a push for it I could take advantage of it to regain the level of
the plain; anyhow it was no use staying where I was. I must go back,
or go on.
Naturally, I was keen to complete my duty; so as soon as I had taken a
good look at my carbine and revolver I entered the gully and rode
forward at a steady pace. For nearly a mile it ran with a few bends
due north, the bottom of it being smooth and the sides perpendicular.
Then the bed began to rise with a gentle slope, until it eventually
rose to the level of the plain. Its width was in no place more than
ten yards across, and it had been formed by some convulsion of nature
that had caused the surface to sink, and it looked as if it had been
gouged out of the earth. There are plenty of these freaks of nature on
the Taupo and Kaingaroa plains, sometimes like the one I was in,
accessible at the ends, and others with precipitous sides all round.
Well, I had just got to where the gradual slope began when I heard a
row behind me and, looking round, saw over twenty natives riding as
hard as they could in pursuit. They were still some 300 yards away,
and as soon as they saw I had spotted them they started yelling like
over-tortured fiends. It was certainly time for me to hump myself, and
I increased my pace so as to put a greater distance between us, while
I rapidly thought out the best plan to shake off this undesirable
company. Had I been on open ground I should have regarded the
contretemps with placidity, and perhaps have enjoyed picking off a few
of these howling sinners, but, mixed up as I was among the network of
vile gullies, it was no joke, and the sun was on their side of the
hedge.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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