“About twelve o’clock we began to see natives trooping along the ranges to the east, and making for the forest between us and Rangiaowhia [the Manga-o-Hoi bush]. Their numbers increased at every moment. I was stationed in a hollow where the main road from the pa [toward Otautahanga and Parawera] crossed a swamp and led up an adjoining ridge, on which stood a large weather-board house. I had previously put a picket near that house, as the view from it commanded the very point of the forest now that reinforcements were gathering. “The natives in the pa had seen the arrival of succour as well as we had, and repeated cheers and volleys announced their appreciation of the sight. From the forest responsive cheers soon established a sympathetic intercourse between the two separated bodies, and I must confess that as far as I was concerned at least the enthusiasm was all on their side. Some Maori trumpeter in the pa now commenced one of those high-pitched shouts, half song, half scream, that travel distinctly over long distances, particularly from range to range. He was giving the reinforcements some instructions. I never have been able to find out what they were, though we had plenty of interpreters with us. I went to the picket with reinforcements, and extended a line of skirmishers along the brow of the hill in some tea-tree scrub. There was open ground between us and the line of forest in which the reinforcements were, and they had to cross that opening if they wanted to come to us. “About this time the natives in the pa commenced a war dance. Of course, we could see nothing of it, but we could hear it—the measured chant—the time-keeping yell—the snort and roar—the hiss and scream—the growl and bellowing—all coming from three hundred throats in measured cadence, working up their fury into a state of maniacal, demoniacal frenzy, till the stamping of their feet actually shook the ground.