Te Kooti, however, was too old a bird to stay long on his perch after he knew he had been located. He therefore, breaking cover, crossed the Taupo plains making for Lake Taupo, but, so that we should remember him, he managed _en route_ to ambuscade two despatch-riders. One of these succeeded in scraping clear and reached Galatea with the news that Te Kooti was on the move, but the other poor fellow was knocked off his horse and taken prisoner. Now I do not know whether in his Mission School days Te Kooti had ever read Byron’s poems, though it is quite possible they had been a portion of the useless literature that mission folk hand over to youthful savages, but anyhow he treated the poor captured trooper in the same way as Mazeppa was treated, for, stripping him naked, he caused him to be tightly lashed on to his bare-backed horse and then had the two of them cast adrift on to the Kaingaroa plains, where the poor chap perished miserably. [Illustration: CAPTURED TROOPER’S LAST RIDE.] We were, however, quickly to receive further news of Te Kooti’s activity. Colonel St John the day previous to the despatch-rider’s escape had started to visit a semi-friendly chief at Tapuaeharuru, taking with him an escort of volunteer cavalry. On reaching a deserted kainga, called Opepe, as both the horses of his escort as well as the men were badly knocked up by the vile weather, he left them behind, there to recuperate, and rode on to his destination, accompanied by only four officers and an orderly, expecting to return to Opepe the following morning. Of course both O.C. and escort were ignorant that Te Kooti, having broken camp, was on the move to Taupo, and none of them thought for a single moment there was any immediate fear of danger. Still the volunteers should have kept on the alert, or at the very least have taken the precaution of keeping their arms handy; but this they do not do, for, worn out and chilled to the bone, they simply enter the best of the huts, light fires, discard their arms and belts and strive to dry their dripping, sleet-soaked garments. Presently two Maoris strolled up. “Tena koutou” (salutations to all of you), quoth they; “we are Arawas,” and they stood among the troopers, warming themselves and expressing their delight at the chance of doing so.