In a few words the Colonel stated our business, and I presented the Defence Minister’s letter, which he hurriedly read, glancing occasionally at me over the paper. Then he laughed and said something to the natives in Maori which seemed to amuse them. Then, turning to me, he remarked: “Well, Mr Burke, you wish to join me and see some fighting. Very good, you are just in time. We start at two A.M. to-morrow morning. I will put you in the way of gratifying your desires. The first thing to be done is for you to sign your attestation paper, etc. Orderly, go and bring Mr Roach here.” In a few moments a tall, powerful man, some thirty years old, entered, who looked as hard as nails. “Oh, Roach,” said the Colonel, “this is Mr Burke, who has come from England to see some fighting, and wishes to join us. Be good enough to attest him and his companion, attach them to your own company and let them go with us to-morrow. And now, Colonel Butler, I have put your friend in the way of seeing some fighting, whether he will enjoy the road that leads to it remains to be proved.” With a good-natured nod to me, and a “So-long, Colonel,” to my companion, the interview terminated, and we left the tent. After I had thanked Colonel Butler for his kindness we also parted, and I accompanied my new officer-to-be to the office tent of the corps, where in ten minutes myself and Tim had signed away our liberty for three months, or six if required, in the Forest Rangers, and had been served out with carbines, belts and pouches. We drew nothing else from store as we preferred to use our own revolvers, and, thanks to the advice of Hutton and West, I had purchased all the other articles necessary, of better quality, in Wellington. After a few words of instruction and advice from Mr Roach we were handed over to the sergeant-major, who took us to the lines, and we were told off to a tent and mess, when I was glad to find the man in charge of the former to be Hutton. I have already described, _en bloc_, the men composing the Rangers, but I think my tent companions deserve a word or two individually, especially as you are already acquainted with myself, Egan and Hutton. Now the most important man in a mess is the cook. Of course in an irregular corps everyone has to bear a hand and take his turn, the consequence being that the food you have to eat is neither tempting nor palatable, but occasionally one man shines out, pre-eminently superior to the rest, when he is at once handed over the big iron ladle and enthroned cook. A cook must be born, not made, and when in a mess a man is discovered who has a knack of making a good meal out of nothing he is indeed a treasure. Such a one we possessed, for no sooner had myself and Tim conveyed our scanty belongings from the _St Kilda_ to the tent than the dinner call went, and I was glad to hear it, albeit doubtful of being able to procure the wherewithal to satisfy a remarkably sharp appetite.