It was indeed a weird sight, the Maoris squatting in a semicircle, with their chins on their knees, round three sides of the fire, the gap between the ends of their formation being occupied by the Colonel, Dr Featherstone and Te Kepa, while a few of the principal chiefs squatted behind them. On my arrival I at once took post in rear of the Colonel, and was immediately struck by the dogged, ugly look on the faces of the contumacious natives, whose eyes, lit up by the firelight, looked ferocious to the last degree, and I could scarcely believe that these were the same men who had joined so joyously in battle only two days before; but alas, it was so. Colonel McDonnell and Dr Featherstone harangued them. It was useless; threats and entreaties were in vain. They squatted there, a sulky, ugly mob, one and all declaring they would not march, they would return home; let the white men go by themselves. This refusal on their part was a very serious matter, as without their knowledge and bush-craft the expedition must end in a fiasco. Mete knew this and chortled in his joy. But Mete Kingi had on this occasion, as on many another, overlooked a very powerful factor, for among the crowd was a relative of his own and a much bigger pot, as, squatting quietly behind the Colonel, was Hori Kingi Te Anaua, who was the head chief of the Wanganui. This ancient-time warrior was a very old man, now long past war, but he had been a mighty fighting man before the Lord, and one who, not so many years back, had been regarded not only by his tribe but by all the surrounding tribes as quite the cock of the walk, while even now the glamour of his early deeds enveloped him with a halo, and he was looked upon by the Wanganui as more than human. This old nobleman was of such a great age that he rarely interfered with tribal business, and was occasionally overlooked by young and pushing upstarts such as Mete, but he was there, having accompanied the Taua, not in his official capacity but rather as a critic, so that he might form opinions of modern warfare and contrast them with old-time methods, also that he might once more steep his senses in the odour of battle. He had moreover been a firm friend and protector of the white man from the early days, besides which he was a great personal friend of Dr Featherstone, who now drew him aside and besought his help. At the moment they rejoined the meeting the Kupapas had again vociferated that they would go home, and there were indications of a rough house, but the instant the grand old warrior raised his still enormous bulk from the ground the silence of death fell on the crowd. For a minute he glared round on the squatting throng, every man of whom, fearing to meet his indignant eye, held his head down, then with a stamp of his foot he spake.