In the meanwhile a messenger had been despatched for the chief, whose name, we now learned, was Te Pareoterangi, and after a short delay he appeared before us, with half a dozen wild-looking natives, carrying a double-barrelled gun over his shoulder. He was a man below medium height, but of singularly massive build, broad-chested and broad-shouldered, with a well-formed head, and singularly well-moulded features. Indeed, his heavily-knit frame, intelligent air, and almost oriental cast of countenance made him stand out in marked contrast to the other natives, who were, for the most part, unlike the generality of their race, remarkable for their diminutive stature and ungainly appearance. When Te Pareoterangi came up, he squatted down with a sullen air, without going through any form of salutation, and then, after a pause, asked us what we had come for, and upon Turner telling him that he had brought the _pakeha_, who was travelling for pleasure, a titter ran round the circle, for, if we did not look it, we felt half-starved, we were drenched to the skin, and covered from head to foot with mud, and the chief, evidently realizing all the unpleasant features of our position, naively remarked, "How can the _pakeha_ travel for pleasure through such a forest as you have come?" At which an old tattooed savage observed, "Their horses are only rats; how did they get here? These _pakehas_ have singular ways." This was said with a sinister smile from the old man, and in anything but a complimentary tone. Many other questions were put to us, and the parleying kept on, by fits and starts, for a good half-hour, during which time the natives displayed no token of friendship, the only manifestations we received in this respect being from the dogs and pigs, the latter even going so far as to scratch their backs against our legs. [Illustration: RUAKAKA. _Page 272._]