This part of the day’s performance did not last long, as in less than ten minutes every hut but one was consumed, and every Maori dead with the exception of that one’s occupants. Unfortunately the hut remaining was a big whare puni made of thick slabs of wood covered with earth, at the door of which lay the dead body of one of our men, and as no fire would touch this little fortress there was nothing to be done but dig out the garrison. We at once set to work at this job, and had nearly unearthed them when we were attacked from three sides by an overwhelming party of Hau Haus. It was evidently high time to clear out of that, but our Colonel was not the man to be balked of his prey. There was no time for more digging, so he again called on those inside to surrender, promising to spare their lives if they did so at once. To this they consented, and one of them came out, but he had no sooner shown himself than a number of friendly natives standing close by recognised the unfortunate Johnny as one of their bitterest tribal enemies, so let drive a volley at him, nearly blowing the poor wretch to smithereens. This low-down conduct drove the Colonel hopping mad, and he cussed the delinquents with so much unction that the tone of his cuss words reassured the Hau Haus to that extent they at once came out and surrendered. It was now high time for us to skip, and we promptly made ready to do so, as we had already lost three men killed and seven men badly wounded; this for a small force like ours was bad enough, but casualties in savage warfare mean a much greater loss than the actual number of men hit. You see it is this way: A man gets wounded in civilised warfare; well, his side only loses the use of one player for that match. As for the wounded Johnny, he just makes himself as comfortable as circumstances permit and quietly awaits the arrival of the first ambulance, be it friend or foe, when he is picked up and taken care of. This, however, was not a rule of the game as played in New Zealand. If a man got wounded there his own friends must get him away smart, for if the Hau Haus got him, so far from making his wound whole they would make him into a whole wound by torturing him in a way not fit to write about, and as it took at least four men to carry the poor chap along the rough bush paths we lost the use of five men’s rifles instead of losing only one. Then again it was considered very bad form to leave a dead man behind, for doing so not only supplied the enemy with a quantity of fresh meat rations, but the capture of one was considered to be a great triumph to them and an equal disgrace to ourselves. It therefore amounted to this, that as we had ten men _hors de combat_ it left us with only sixty-three rifles to withstand the onslaught of the infuriated Hau Haus, besides which we had nine prisoners to shepherd.