Again the new-comers could not stand the physical hardships of the work. They knocked up when marching and were not by any means dependable shots or bushmen. So that the campaign dragged, for although we made many attempts we never again succeeded in catching the enemy on the hop as we had done at Pungarehu. In fact, on one or two occasions, we received more than we gave, and although we did not, as yet, meet with any calamitous disaster, yet, at times, we had to quit the bush faster than we went in, having failed to do that which we went in to attempt, and these failures so bucked up the Hau Haus that it enabled Titokowaru, a savage and very fanatical chief, to draw numbers of them to his flag, with whom for over two years he successfully opposed us, during which period he administered two very serious defeats to the colonial forces. It was while on one of these numerous excursions I witnessed a somewhat extraordinary instance of presentiment of death, which, owing to the fact of the man who received the impression taking advantage of it, thereby dodged the catastrophe. Here’s the yarn, deduct what moral you will. Among the friendly natives was one named Winiata, who was distinguished for his great courage; and when, among a race noted for their bravery, a man becomes so distinguished, there can be no doubt of his intrepidity. In fact, not only by his own comrades, but also by the white men, and even by the Hau Haus, no mean judges of courage, he was regarded as the very incarnation of valour. Now Winiata always led the van, and was the rear of the rear-guard in a retreat, and his numerous acts of dare-devil recklessness were the talk of both camps. Well, on one occasion, we were advancing to attack a place, when to everyone’s astonishment Winiata hung back, and instead of being leading man enacted the part of a timid skulker. This surprised the O.C. so much that he asked the man what was the matter. Winiata, without hesitation replied: “I dreamt last night I was leading the van as usual, when we were ambuscaded and I was killed, the bullet striking me on one hip and coming out at the other, so to-day I remain in the rear.” The column, at the time, was moving through dense bush, along a footpath so narrow we could only proceed in single file, and a short time after Winiata had unbosomed himself the enemy poured a volley into the head of it, killing the leading file. Whereupon Winiata rushed to the front and, pointing to the dead man, said to the O.C.: “Ah, that’s the bullet which meant to kill me,” and true enough the death wound that had killed his substitute was exactly similar to the one he had dreamt was to have finished himself off. After this all the other natives declared that Winiata’s god was a very powerful one and that his mana (luck) was great.