The most anxious time on the frontier in the Seventies was the crisis caused by the murder of Timothy Sullivan by a party of Maoris between Roto-o-Rangi and Maunga-tautari, on 25th April, 1873. This was an agrarian murder, caused through rather careless dealings with native land; Purukutu, the principal in the crime, had not been paid for land in which he had an interest and which Mr E. B. Walker had acquired on lease, outside the aukati line. Sullivan was regarded by the Maoris as a tutua, a nobody; they were really after his employer, Mr Walker, and others, including Mr Buckland, of Cambridge. It was a savage piece of work, for Purukutu and Hori te Tumu, after shooting Sullivan—who had been at work with two companions fascining a swamp—decapitated him and cut out his heart. This was the last deed of the kind committed in New Zealand. The following account was given me by the old man Tu Tamua Takerei, who died recently at Parawera: “Timoti [Timothy] was killed on the open plain at the foot of the hill. The Hauhaus cut off his head with a tomahawk and also cut open his body and took his heart away as a trophy of war. The head was carried to Wharepapa, where it was left. The heart was carried up country at the end of a korari stick (a flax-stalk), and was taken to a place near Te Kuiti. The slayers of Timoti intended to lay the heart before Te Paea, or Tiaho, the Maori Queen, but she disapproved their action, so the trophy was not presented to her. The taking of a human heart was an ancient custom of the Maori; it was the practice to offer it to Tu and Uenuku, the gods of war.” This desperate deed was regarded by very many, Maoris as well as pakehas, as a prelude to war, and intense excitement prevailed on both sides of the border. The cavalry troops at Te Awamutu and Cambridge were called out for patrol duty, and the Armed Constabulary posts were strengthened. Additional blockhouses were built, one at Roto-o-Rangi and one at Paekuku, to watch the Maunga-tautari side, and a redoubt was built at the Puniu. The Waikato and Auckland newspapers were full of war rumours; public meetings were called at Te Awamutu to discuss defence measures; and all along the frontier the determined settlers were on the alert. It was many months before the alarm subsided. The fanatical-minded factions among the King Country Maoris might have succeeded in raiding some of the border farms, but no native captain was bold enough to try the experiment in the face of the vigilant watch of the well-armed, well-drilled troops of frontier horse and the numerous garrisons of Armed Constabulary.