Emerging from the forest, the warriors stole quietly down over the fern-slopes, and crossing the Tawhiti creek, which wound down through a valley close to the present town of Hawera, they worked round to the front of the little parapeted fort that stood in a singularly unstrategic position on a gently rising hillside, close to the celebrated ancient _pa_, Turuturu-Mokai. Hauwhenua passed round the word to hide in the fern and remain in cover there as close up to the redoubt as possible, until he yelled the "_Kokiri!_" cry--the signal for the charge. The Turuturu-Mokai redoubt was but a tiny work, so small that the officer in charge, Captain Ross, had to live in a _raupo_ hut built outside the walls. The entrenchment, consisting of earth-parapet and a surrounding trench, was being strengthened by its garrison of twenty-five Armed Constabulary, and the work was not quite finished when the Maori attack was delivered. The night dragged on too slowly for the impatient and shivering warriors. Some wished to rush the white men's _pa_ at once, but Hauwhenua and his sub-chiefs forbade it till there was a little more light. Several of the younger men began to crawl up through the fern towards the wall of the little fort. The form of a solitary sentry was seen, pacing up and down outside the walls. He could easily have been shot, but the Hauhaus waited. The sentry was relieved at five o'clock in the morning. The new sentinel was not left in peace very long. Five minutes after he went on duty, while he was walking smartly up and down to keep warm, he heard a suspicious rustle in the fern. He stopped and peered into the dimness. Yes, he couldn't be wrong; those dark forms crawling towards him through the fern were Maoris! He raised his carbine and fired, then turned and raced for the redoubt, shouting out, "Stand to your arms, boys!" The darkness--it was not yet dawn--was instantly lit up by the blaze of a return volley, and, with a fearful yell, the host of half-naked Maoris leaped from the fern and rushed for the redoubt. The white soldiers, roused by the firing, rushed from their tents and manned the parapets and angles of the work, so furiously assailed by the swarming forest-men. Captain Ross had leaped from his sleeping-place at the first alarm. He ran out from his _wharé_, armed with his sword and revolver, and clothed only in his shirt. He just managed to cross the ditch by the narrow plank-bridge ahead of the enemy, who missed the plank in the darkness. The captain quickly called for volunteers to defend the gate. "I'll make one, sir!" cried Michael Gill, an old Imperial soldier. "All right, Gill," said the captain; it was pitch dark, but he knew Gill's voice. "Any more?" Yes; they rushed for the gate--Henry McLean, George Tuffin, Swords, Gaynor, and Gill. The others manned the two flanking angles.