"Talk of its being 'one of Britain's little wars,' as the newspapers call it!" grumbled Mr. Slyde. "My belief is that it is going to last as long as that confounded Carthaginian business. How they used to bore us with it at school! Beginning bad enough--end probably worse. Fellows die of old age, unless we hurry up." "It does drag fearfully; it's only bearable when we're in action. This lagging guerilla business, with such a commissariat--all the privations of war, and none of the excitement--is simply unendurable. However, when Warwick comes in from his scouting prowl we may hear something." "Wonder he doesn't get 'chopped' some of these fine days. Certainly manages to pick up information in a wonderful way. Von Tempsky says he's thrown away upon us two. Wants to get him for scout business pure and simple." "For some inscrutable reason he has attached himself to me," said Massinger. "I suggested that he might do good service by acting in that capacity--alone. He didn't take kindly to it at all--seemed hurt; so I let him alone." "Best thing you could do. Not a bad thing to have a _fidus Achates_ born a Trojan. Put you up to their wiles. Shouldn't wonder if he'd given you a hand as it is?" "Now I come to think of it, he _did_ once. We were having some brisk work that day at Katikara, where we couldn't dislodge the natives from the redoubt. The firing was sharp, when he motioned me to change position. The next minute a bullet struck the tree just where I had been standing, and a fellow put his head over the parapet to see if he had bagged me. Warwick was waiting for him, and as he fired I saw my friend fling up his arms and fall backward." "'Close call!' as the backwoodsmen say; but that sort of thing's all luck. Look at Ropata! You'd think he stood up on purpose to be shot at--shilling a shot kind of business. Never been touched yet. No wonder they call him 'Waha Waha.' 'The devil or some untoward saint' has an eye to him, the Tohungas say." "He's a grand soldier. It's lucky for us that he's on our side. Reckless and ruthless, a true Ngatiporou.--Hallo! what tribe do you belong to?" continued he, as he pointed to a tall Maori standing within a few paces of them. "Why, it's Warwick! How in the world did you get so close to us without our hearing you?" "Only in the way some Waikato will sneak _you_, lieutenant, if you are not more careful--when you'll be shot before you have time to lift your hand. My native relatives taught me that and other things when I was young." "And what news have you? Anything important?" "That's as it may be. Large bodies of the Ngaiterangi have commenced to move forward towards the Orakau. We shall have a big affair soon. I fell in with a scout of the Arawa named Taranui, and he was of the same way of thinking. Said the Ngaiterangi were closing up. But I must deliver my report at headquarters first."