When, therefore, Roland Massinger left Auckland one fine morning, riding his gallant grey, with the trusty double-barrel on his shoulder, a navy revolver in his belt, and a miscellaneous assortment of useful articles dispersed about himself and his charger, no one seemed disposed to remark unnecessarily, or to make jeering remarks upon his outfit. A day or two before starting, Massinger received a note in a strange handwriting, which ran as follows:-- "Auckland, 14, Shortland Street, "Wednesday. "DEAR SIR, "My old friend Dr. Lochiel has, I believe, recommended me to you as a guide for the trip to Rotorua and Rotomahana. "I know the country well, and shall be glad to act, if we can arrange. I don't say that it is too safe in the present state of native feeling, but that is for you to judge. I shall have the pleasure of calling upon you tomorrow morning. "Yours truly, "ALBERT WARWICK. "R. Massinger, Esq." "Why, I thought Dr. Lochiel told me that the guide was a half-caste," said he to himself. "Very well written and expressed. Some men I know, from English public schools, too, could not have written such a note to save their lives. However, I suppose he got some one to write it for him." He had finished his breakfast, and was digesting it and the contents of the _New Zealand Herald_, besides trying to reconcile conflicting statements as to the Native Lands Policy, when a visitor was announced. "Mr. Massinger, I believe," said the stranger, bowing. "My name is Warwick; I presume you received my note yesterday?" For one moment that gentleman's self-possession almost failed him, but he recovered himself in time to murmur an assent and ask the stranger to take a chair. There was some reason for his surprise. He saw before him a very good-looking, well-dressed man of about his own age, turned out much as he had often been himself for a day's shooting. A Norfolk jacket, with knickerbockers and worsted stockings, these last exhibiting a volume of muscular calf, above laced-up shooting-boots of great strength and thickness of sole. A wide-brimmed felt hat, and a Crimean shirt, completed attire which was eminently appropriate and serviceable. "You know the people and the country, as well as the route to these far-famed lakes?" he inquired. "From my boyhood," answered this perplexing personage, with a perfectly correct, even finished accent, "I have been familiar with both. We have relatives in the Ngapuhi tribe, and I am always glad of an excuse to see some wild life among them. I have occasionally acted as guide to parties of tourists, and not so long ago to His Excellency the Governor and his staff." "And your remuneration?" queried the tourist, thinking it wise to settle that important question off-hand.