The first man shot was their leader, a brave officer, Major Hunter, whose brother, Captain Hunter, had fallen at Te Ngutu-o-te-Manu two months previously. Tutangé says that it was Paraone Tuteré who shot the major; he fired at the leading figure, not knowing then who he was. Colonel Whitmore came running in with the stormers, but, with his usual luck, although in the thickest fighting he was never hit. Those of the attacking column who were not hit instantly dropped to cover amongst the logs and stumps that surrounded the _pa_ front. Then they returned the fire as well as they could, but one man after another was hit, without being able to see one Hauhau of the scores that occupied the _pa_ and thrust the muzzles of their guns through the interstices of the palisades. It was a foolish thing, that blind frontal charge on the strong stockade. Major Hunter was too good a soldier to have done such an insane thing of his own volition. He was obeying Whitmore's orders. Hunter was shot in the femoral artery, when within nine or ten yards of the stockade. He implored those near him to try to stop the gushing blood, and some of his comrades attempted to staunch it; but the wound was too close to the stomach to get at, and he died in a few minutes. Captain W. E. Gudgeon, with about forty Government Maoris, tried to work round and take the _pa_ in the rear. His line of charge was on Hunter's right flank, and he had good cover, but in spite of that he lost two killed and five wounded. Now a brisk little fight went on on the flanks of the _pa_ between Kepa's men and a party of warriors who had made a sortie from the stockade. Kepa was furiously assailed by the bushmen, leaping from tree to tree, yelling their frightful Hauhau cries; and it was as much as the plucky Whanganui men could do to hold their own. Their attempt to take the _pa_ in the rear failed, and they at last slowly withdrew to support the shattered ranks of their white comrades. The A.C. supports came doubling up, and a heavy fire was concentrated on the stockade, but to little purpose. It was impregnable to rifle-fire, and in their pitted works the defenders were able to pick off the white skirmishers in perfect safety. Bullets swept the clearing in every direction, and through the infernal music of the forest-battle the white soldiers heard the loudly yelled war-cries of the chiefs and the shrill voices of the Maori women as they encouraged their warriors, husbands, and brothers, and screamed them on to slaughter with all the fury of brown tattooed Hecates. The women were gathered in the _marae_ and in the trenches, some armed, all filled with the fire of savage war. "_Ka horo, ka horo!_" they shouted. "_Kia maia, kia maia! Patua, kainga! Patua, kainga!_" ("They fall, they fall! Be brave, oh, be brave! Kill them, eat them! Kill them, eat them!")