In the grip of the Hawk: A story of the Maori warsHorsley, Reginald
History
In the grip of the Hawk: A story of the Maori wars
Horsley, Reginald
Māori (New Zealand people) -- Fiction; New Zealand -- Fiction; New Zealand -- History -- New Zealand Wars, 1860-1872 -- Fiction
This was an entirely new view of the situation, and the
self-satisfied grin faded from Te Karearea's face. The old
superstitions were tugging at him once more. 'I will bring him
back,' he said humbly, and took a hesitating step in the direction of
the heads.
Kapua Mangu was genuinely frightened, but, being by no means certain
that anything would happen, he felt compelled to regain his
ascendency by thoroughly frightening the chief once more. So he drew
largely upon a vivid imagination in order to restrain the foolhardy
infidel.
'Stay, fool!' he shrieked. 'The spirits of the dead are angry.
There is Te Pouri whom you slew, and Te Kaihuia whom you sped upon
the road to Reinga. They are talking to one another. They are
nodding their heads and saying: "Here comes the stupid Hawk. Let us
seize him and----" Ah-h-h!'
It is impossible to describe the long-drawn, quavering scream which
brought the poor wizard's ravings to a sudden close. Never was
venerable sorcerer so completely taken aback, so utterly horrified at
the success of his own magic.
For, as it happened, his last coherent words exactly described the
behaviour of two of the heads. Incredible to relate, they were
nodding at one another, and gruesome enough was the sight in that
gloomy underworld. It was too much for the old _tohunga_, and with
another yell of fear and horror, he fled from the awful scene which,
as he fully believed, his own magic had evoked.
More scared by the wild talk of the wizard than he would have cared
to admit, Te Karearea glanced over his shoulder at that first
panic-stricken yell. Then he turned his head again, and his own
blood froze.
For he, too, now saw the nodding heads and--oh, fearsome
sight!--their voiceless conference at an end, the pair came rushing
at him with a strange, bobbing motion, enough of itself to scare any
wretched mortal. But, as if that were not sufficient, the two
frolicsome heads stopped suddenly in their wild career, threw
themselves back, and burst into peal upon peal of harsh, demoniac
laughter.
It was the last straw. One horrified look Te Karearea cast behind
him in frenzied appeal to the _tohunga_, and thus becoming aware of
that ancient fraud, who with flapping mat and twinkling, skinny legs,
raced along the back-track, he turned and rushed after the
discomfited magician, who just then afforded an admirable example of
an 'engineer hoist with his own petard.'
No sooner did the chief take to his heels, than a still more singular
phenomenon was exhibited; for the two heads developed bodies, arms,
and legs, not to speak of trousers and boots, materialising, the one
into George, the other into Terence. The latter caught up the torch
from the ridge, the former secured the two heads with whose
personality they had made so free, and together they sped after the
vanishing couple, who were much too scared to think of looking behind
them.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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