Suddenly, at a yell from Puketawa, I looked up. A wall of rock loomed dark through the mist, before and above us! “Luff!” he screamed, but there was no time. Ere I could sweep her round with the oar a grey roller lifted under our stern, caught us broadside on its crest, rushed us through a providential cleft in the rocks, and, rolling over and over, we, with our belongings, were strewn broadcast on a little, sandy beach. The boat, though shaken, was still sound, and we quickly hauled it beyond the reach of the waves. A short examination showed us we had been cast up on one of the very islands we had hoped to escape. Still, unpleasant though our predicament was, it could easily have been worse. In that thick haze we might well have been driven on the bluff cliffs of the headland and pounded to a jelly in the surf. At all events, we were on terra firma and could make the best of it till the fog lifted. In our drenched condition the wind was decidedly unpleasant, so, after securing the boat, we made haste to seek shelter on the lee side of the island. As we groped our way up the rocks and over the top we came across a low-spreading puriri tree. Beneath it we found plenty of dry sticks, and, breaking off some dead branches also, we carried with us a good stock of firewood. I had matches in a waterproof case, and soon, in a snug rock-niche, we were warm and comfortable beside a roaring fire. We had managed to save some six brace of birds from the shipwreck, and these, skinned and toasted on the embers, with the contents of my flask to wash them down, made an excellent supper, with sufficient to spare for breakfast. Dawn broke clear and calm, with just enough wind to take us on our homeward way. I had sent Puketawa for a further supply of wood, when a shout from above brought me scrambling up the rocks. There he stood, a living embodiment of terror. With wide eyes and dropping jaw he was staring at the hollow tree-trunk. Then I saw what it was. From the orifice, ghastly in the dim light, grinned two fleshless skeletons. Around the hole was heaped a pile of human bones and skulls, while other death’s-heads peered at us from crevices of the rocks. We were in a Maori “wahi-tapu” (cemetery). [Illustration: THE ESTUARY OF THE MANGAPAI RIVER. _From a Photograph._]