Pourere was rushed in a most orthodox style, as we surmounted the parapet, which was eight feet high, by climbing on to one another’s shoulders and jumping on to the top of the defenders, whom we finished off with butt, tomahawk and revolver. It was quite a tidy little scrap, in which I came out the richer by receiving two tomahawk cuts and the poorer by having my shirt and shawl torn to pieces off me, a very serious loss, believe me, as until I got back to Tokanu every rag of clothing I possessed was my boots, a somewhat scanty well-worn Maori mat and bandages. Pourere was a bad beating for Te Kooti, as, although we only found thirty-eight dead Hau Haus inside the work, yet during the pursuit very many were killed and wounded. We also captured thirty women and eighty horses. In this action Te Kooti himself was wounded, receiving a bullet through his hand, which, lacerating the thumb and forefinger, amputating the third finger, then passed through the fleshy part of his side. Our loss as far as numbers went was trivial, four men only being killed and four wounded, but alas, we lost two men we could badly spare, one being the gallant and chivalrous Captain St George, shot through the head while leading his men to the charge, and the other, the best little fighting man I have ever known, Winiata Pakoro, whose name will resound as long as war is ever talked about by the Maoris. He was killed in the following way:--The parapet of the work was eight feet from the ground line and four feet thick, being beautifully riveted with fern. When we rushed the place we advanced in extended order, and on the charge being sounded ran forward, stooping low and closing in as we ran. Now Te Kooti had asserted that the reason he built Pourere after the European style was that he acted under the direct instructions of the angel Gabriel, in which case his angelship showed very small knowledge of the art of fortification, as the line of loopholes was pierced six feet from the ground and straight through the parapet, not giving the bottom sills any downward slope, so that his men when firing could not depress the muzzles of their guns, consequently when they fired their volley at our charging ranks all their bullets went howling over our heads, not one single man being touched. In a moment we leaped into the ditch, and, as there were no flanking defences to enfilade it, we were quite safe, and all paused a moment, cheering and laughing, to recover breath. Winiata, however, had no need of more breath, so forthwith scrambled up to the top of the parapet, and, discharging his rifle into the mob of defenders, called them all the naughty names he could think of, then throwing down to his comrades his empty gun he received from them another loaded one, which he also discharged in the same manner. He had done this three times, and was in the act of doing it the fourth when he tumbled backwards into the ditch with a bullet through his brains.