A wrestling match. -- Beef against melons. -- The victor gains a loss. -- "Our chief." -- His speech. -- His _status_ in the tribe. -- Death of "Melons." -- Rumours of peace and war. -- Getting the Pa in fighting order. -- My friend the "relation eater." -- Expectation and preparation. -- Arrival of doubtful friends. -- Sham fight. -- The "taki." -- The war dance. -- Another example of Maori hospitality. -- Crocodile's tears. -- Loose notions about heads. -- Tears of blood. -- Brotherly love. -- Capital felony. -- Peace. Something between a cheer, a scream, and a roar, greet our arrival on the sand. An English voice salutes me with "Well, you served that fellow out." One half of my coat hangs from my right elbow, the other from my left; a small shred of the collar is still around my neck. My hat, alas! my hat is gone. I am surrounded by a dense mob of natives, laughing, shouting, and gesticulating in the most grotesque manner. Three Englishmen are also in the crowd--they seem greatly amused at something, and offer repeated welcomes. At this moment up comes my salt-water acquaintance, elbowing his way through the crowd; there is a strange serio-comic expression of anger in his face; he stoops, makes horrid grimaces, quivering at the same time his left hand and arm about in a most extraordinary manner, and striking the thick part of his left arm with the palm of his right hand. "_Hu!_" says he, "_hu! hu!_" "What _can_ he mean?" said I. "He is challenging you to wrestle," cried one of the Englishmen; "he wants _utu_." "What is _utu_?" said I. "Payment." "I won't pay him." "Oh, that's not it, he wants to take it out of you wrestling." "Oh, I see; here's at him; pull off my coat and boots; I'll wrestle him; his foot is in his own country, and his name is--what?" "Sir, his name in English means 'An eater of melons;' he is a good wrestler; you must mind." "_Water_-melons, I suppose; beef against melons for ever, hurrah! here's at him." Here the natives began to run between us to separate us, but seeing that I was in the humour to "have it out," and that neither self or friend were actually out of temper, and no doubt expecting to see the pakeha floored, they stood to one side and made a ring. A wrestler soon recognises another, and my friend soon gave me some hints that showed me I had some work before me. I was a youngster in those days, all bone and sinew, full of animal spirits, and as tough as leather. A couple of desperate main strength efforts soon convinced us both that science or endurance must decide the contest. My antagonist was a strapping fellow of about five-and-twenty, tremendously strong, and much heavier than me. I, however, in those days actually could not be fatigued; I did not know the sensation, and could run from morning till night. I therefore trusted to wearing him out, and avoiding his _ta_ and _wiri_. All this time the mob were shouting encouragement to one or other of us.