New Zealand in 1866, the year I landed, was in a very bad way indeed. The war in the North Island, begun in 1860, showed still no signs of terminating, and blazed up wherever the white settler came in contact with the native. For although General Sir Duncan Cameron had, with overwhelming numbers, forced his way into the interior of the country, and had built chains of forts with which to hold it, yet no white man’s life was safe out of rifle range of these works, and the settlers, especially on the west coast, had all to abandon their farms, and send their women and children to the South Island for safety, while they themselves had to take up arms and form themselves into defence forces. A year or so before there had been a great impulse given to the trouble by the invention of the new religion, called Pai Marire, that had turned the Maoris, both Christian and pagan, from chivalrous, if savage, enemies into howling, bloodthirsty fanatics who murdered in cold blood, with every vile atrocity, man, woman and child not only of the white race but even also of the Maoris who refused to join their crazy faith. It is not my purpose, however, to write a history of New Zealand and its troubles, but of how I came to join for good the Lost Legion, the men who live and die on the frontiers of the Empire, and who, reckless of life, health and everything else that makes existence endurable to the carpet soldier, have gradually rolled out the limits of Old England’s possessions as the deft hand of a cook rolls out the lump of dough on a pastry board. Directly we landed I made inquiries as to the whereabouts of Sir Duncan Cameron, but was quickly informed he had resigned the command of the forces to Sir Trevor Chute, and that the latter was at present on the west coast, but that it was impossible to say where. This was a disappointment, but as I had more than one string to my bow I bent my way to the Mount Cook Barracks, as, among others, I had a strong letter of introduction to the colonel commanding the regiment stationed there. I was most hospitably received, asked to dine, and, after a few minutes’ chat about mutual friends in the old country, I asked the best way how to get to the front and take a hand in the fighting.