"War to the Knife;" or, Tangata MaoriBoldrewood, Rolf
General
"War to the Knife;" or, Tangata Maori
Boldrewood, Rolf
Māori (New Zealand people) -- Fiction; New Zealand -- Fiction
"To tell truth, I think Ngarara would rather like it now, if he could
get the chance; but I am a fair snapshot, and would try for first pull.
However, we won't anticipate disagreeables. How far is Rotomahana? I am
dying to see the terraces."
"You pakehas are always gay," she said. "Perhaps it is better to
enjoy while we may. I wish I could do so. But our _Tohunga_ has been
prophesying, and his words have cast a shadow over my mind, which I
vainly try to resist."
"But surely your education has taught you to despise superstitious
fears?"
"My reason does so; but the senses revolt, strange as it may seem. I
cannot get away from a dread of impending evil. My father, who has
Highland blood in his veins, calls it the 'second sight.'"
"I have heard of it; and what did the seer foretell? Is he known to be
a true prophet?" queried her companion.
"Wonderful as it may appear, he has been seldom wrong. This time
he predicts war--bloody and doubtful. Our tribe, though sometimes
defeated, is to be victorious. He counsels them to keep a straight
path."
The next day's journey was over a different route. The forest, with
its over-arching tree-tops and deep cool glades, lay behind them. They
had entered upon a region of barren and desolate sand wastes, of which
the neutral-tinted surface was varied by scarped over-hanging bluffs.
In these, a red-ochreous conglomerate gave a weird and fantastic
appearance to the landscape.
Halting towards evening, where the winding road by which they had been
ascending appeared to decline towards a wide valley, Erena silently
directed Massinger's attention to the far-stretching and varied view,
adding, "You are about to descend into the land of wonders, and the
kingdom of mysterious sights and sounds, with heaven above. As to
below, what shall I say?"
He smiled as he answered, "It is only to look around, to convince
one's self that we are on the border of a dread and unreal region.
Look at that volcanic cone, splashed with shades of red, emitting
steam from every point of its scarred sides and summit. And those
snow-capped mountains, grand and awful in their loneliness, gazing, as
one would dream over a ruined world, themselves awaiting only the final
conflagration."
"Very awful, terrible--infernal even, it seems to me sometimes," said
Erena. "I cannot help wondering how long it will be before these
imprisoned fires burst through, and, in rending their way to upper air,
destroy the heedless people who live so cheerfully on a mere crust. But
we must get down into this valley of Waiotapu, where we camp for the
night. There will be such a sight-seeing tomorrow in store for us, that
we shall hardly be able to move in the evening. Blue lakes and green
lakes will be the least of the marvels. When I was a child, I used to
think there would be talking fish in them, like those of the 'Arabian
Nights,' which stood on their tails in the frying-pan."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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