The sun now shone warm and brightly, our course seemed clear, and all was going as merrily as the proverbial marriage-bell, when Turner hastily directed my attention to four mounted Maoris coming across the plains to our rear; but just at the moment we caught sight of them they disappeared behind a low hill. They were some distance off, but they were quite near enough to easily discern us, especially as Turner, with the white tent on his dark pony, formed a conspicuous object. Fortunately we saw no more of the natives, although we watched carefully for some time, but they nevertheless haunted us for days afterwards--during our ascent both of Tongariro and Ruapehu--as we felt fully convinced that they must have seen us, and we were likewise equally sure that they could, if they so wished, follow up our tracks, when, by the marks of the shod horses, they would have at once discovered that we were Europeans. If we had been going in any other direction the circumstances would have been as nothing, but riding as we were straight for Tongariro, we knew that that fact alone was sufficient to excite their suspicion. When we had ridden across the top of the hill we were at once out of sight, and we rode as fast as our weak horses would allow over the scoria ridges which surrounded the base of the cone. We passed on our right an enormous bluff of volcanic rocks, and then descended a steep, precipitous incline strewn with enormous boulders which at some remote age had evidently been hurled from the fiery crater. It was impossible for our horses to walk down this treacherous place with their heavy burdens on their backs, even whilst we led them, so taking them off and putting them on our own shoulders we made the animals follow us, when they picked their way over and around the big stones like cats.