The Maoris up to now had been very useful, though they did not care for the work, still, thanks to Hori’s presence, they had given no trouble, yet early in the day they had allowed the two Hau Hau prisoners we had as guides to escape. These two fellows fled along the track, followed of course by a party of Kupapas who were at once put into good humour by the chance of spilling a little blood. The prisoners in their flight came across a party of seven Hau Haus, who, unaware of our proximity, were quietly enjoying their breakfast, and shouted to them to escape, but the Hau Haus, unable to realise that the white man had penetrated so far into their fastnesses, refused to budge and continued their meal. The fugitives, declining to tarry, escaped, but the alfresco repast was rudely interrupted by the Kupapas, who surprised the picnicking party, killing four men and capturing a girl. This little interlude of blood somewhat cheered up the Kupapas, but the guides were gone, and the track that had been getting less distinct now entirely disappeared. Other misfortunes now overtook us. The natives, having eaten most of their rations previous to starting, now demanded food, and caused trouble, still remaining sulky even when a day’s rations were issued to them from the slender stock carried on the pack-horses, and then, to make us thoroughly cheerful, floods of water (you could not call it rain) began to fall, and continued to do so day and night without the slightest intermission. We were in a hole. Guides gone, road lost, bush thick, a deluge falling, rations short, and many a man would have turned back, but the General, good man, was made of the right sort of stuff, and “go on” was the order. “What,” said he, “the road lost, is it? Then chop one,” and our crowd, although they might grumble like hell, started in to give a lead. The New Zealand bush is a stiff one to tackle, composed as it is of enormous trees growing close together and a dense undergrowth of evergreens and ferns. From the trees descend huge vines, some of them many inches in circumference, either hanging straight up and down, or draped in graceful festoons from tree to tree, both the trunks and branches of the latter being covered with patches of orchids and other parasites. Here and there amid the undergrowth springs up an elegant punga (tree fern), a broad leaf or a koninonino (fuchsia tree), while an occasional patch of lawyers, a thorny bush whose name is most appropriate, for if you once get into its clutches you can only get out pretty nearly naked, lies in wait for the unwary, these and many more being bound together into an impenetrable tangle by the ever-present souple jack and ground vine.