No white man, with the exception, perhaps, of a stray missionary, had ever penetrated to that part of the country, which was composed of dense bush, mountains and broken ground covered with manuka scrub, or long fern, which grew from six to ten feet high, and it was in the depth of winter, bitterly cold and wet. The enemy had retreated in the direction of the great volcanoes Ruapehu and Tongeriro, at the south-east end of the lake, about thirty-five miles from where we were camped, and in an awful country, quite unknown and hostile to us. This country had to be searched, Te Kooti found and attacked before he established himself in another stronghold and recruited his murderous band of bloodthirsty savages. The columns could not advance and look for him; they had no food to feed man or horse during the time it would take to find him. No, they must fall back nearer the base, and the scouts must find him, and then the troops and horses, well fed, could make a rush for him and perhaps put an end to his career. My orders were that I was to find Te Kooti and return to Opepe, the Colonel promising he and the column would meet me there on the sixteenth day, when I was to guide him up to the quarry. How I was to find the bounder, and how we were to live while we were looking for him, was left to me. It was certain that Te Kooti would be looking out for anyone who might be impudent enough to look for him, and if he caught us our fate was certain, though, of course, we could only guess at the nature of the torture to which we should be subjected. Even if we were lucky enough to be able to blow our own brains out before we were captured, the Colonel would lose the information he required, and more men would have to be sent; so that it behoved us to keep ourselves and our tracks hidden, and to see without being seen. How we were to live I left to Providence; it was beyond me. We were all hardened bushfighters, and we must take our chance. My two companions were queer characters; both of them had been sailors: one of them, Pierre De Feugeron, a Frenchman, the other a Kantuarius Greek. They had been mates for years, were both splendid scouts, expert bushmen, good shots, and utterly fearless. Well, no sooner had I got my orders than we started. Our field kit consisted of smasher hats, dark blue serge jumpers that reached to the knee, but during the day were drawn up and fastened round the waist; we wore no trousers, but had shawls round us like kilts. I wore shooting boots and socks; the others went barefooted with sandals. Our arms consisted of carbines and revolvers, and we each wore in our belts a tomahawk and sheath knife. On our backs we carried a blanket rolled up, in which was some very bad bacon and worse biscuit, four pounds of each; and with this we were to penetrate thirty-five miles or more into an unknown country, as rough as any in the world, find a wily enemy and, above all, get back with our information.