As I stumbled to my feet I did not say “damn,” as it would not have been an appropriate expression on such an occasion, and I felt utterly unable to coin one suitable, so picking up my precious viands, which I carried in the mat on my left fore-arm pressed against my chest, where they raised blisters wherever they came in contact with my bare skin through my tattered shirt, in less than a minute I had the men extended, and charged at the bush, from the edge of which spurts of smoke told us that the Hau Haus, disgusted at the loss of their breakfast, were seeking utu by preventing us enjoying their forfeited repast. It was as we were advancing I discovered that, with the exception of my tomahawk and sheath-knife, I was unarmed. This discovery somewhat flabbergasted me, but it at once flashed through my mind that I had been in the act of reloading four chambers of my M. L. revolver when I had received my share of the food, and that, in my greediness to eat, I had placed my still uncapped pistol on the ground beside me, and on receiving the unwelcome order, in my anxiety to carry off the food, I had forgotten the gun. No matter, thought I to myself, the men must do my shooting for me, so drawing my tomahawk I led them at the bush, where we quickly drove the enemy back for a few hundred yards, when they turned tail and made a clean bolt for it, while at the same time the recall was sounded from the main body. After seeing that all my men were present and unwounded I gave the word to retire, and we started wending our way back to the kainga. I was now clearly entitled to break my long-sustained fast. True, I could not sit down to eat, but it is better for a hungry man to eat while walking rather than not to eat at all, so that as my men fell back at a brisk pace I opened my mat, and, grabbing a handful of the by now well-smashed and greasy potatoes, conveyed it to my mouth, instinctively slowing up my pace as I began to eat the precious food. Lord, how good it was!--not tempting to look at, my gentle reader, nor was there any romantic refinement in the tableau of a gaunt, unshaven man, dressed in a tattered shirt and shawl, feeding himself with an unwashed, blood-stained hand while pushing his way through the tangles of a New Zealand bush.