rmed before the chief and his
companions a hideous _tu ngarahu_, and then disappeared. The Ngati
Kuri, elated, and accepting this as a presage of victory, landed on
Tuhua, stormed the pa, and massacred its defenders.

But they had mistaken the meaning of the monster review of the Taniwha.
It was a leave-taking of his favourite warrior; for the Ngati Kuri were
fated to die to a man on the next land they trod. A hundred and fifty
men were they--the pick and prime of their tribe. All _rangatira_, all
warriors of name, few in number, but desperately resolute, they thought
it little to defeat the thousands of the south, and take the women and
children as a prey! Having feasted and rejoiced at Tuhua, they sail for
Motiti. This world was too small for them. They were impatient for
battle. They thought to make the name of Kuri strike against the skies;
but in the morning the sea is covered with war canoes. The thousands of
the south are upon them! Ngati Awa, with many an allied band, mad for
revenge, come on. Fight now, O Ngati Kuri!--not for _victory_, no, nor
for _life_. Think only now of _utu_!--for your time is come. That which
you have dealt to many, you shall now receive. Fight!--fight! Your
tribe shall be exterminated, but you must leave a name! Now came the
tug of war on "bare Motiti." From early morning till the sun had well
declined, that ruthless battle raged. Twice their own number had the
Ngati Kuri slain; and then Tiki Whenua, still living, saw around him
his dead and dying tribe. A handful of bleeding warriors still
resisted--a last and momentary struggle. He thought of the _utu_; it
was great. He thought of the ruined remnant of the tribe at home, and
then he remembered--horrid thought--that ere next day's setting sun, he
and all the warriors of his tribe would be baked and eaten. (Tiki, my
friend, thou art in trouble.) A cannon was close at hand--a nine-pound
carronade. They had brought it in the canoes. Hurriedly he filled it
half full of powder, seized a long firebrand, placed his breast to the
cannon's mouth, and fired it with his own hand. Tiki Whenua,
good-night!

Now I wonder if Brutus had had such a thing as a nine-pounder about him
at Philippi, whether he would have thought of using it in this way. I
really don't think he would. I have never looked upon Brutus as
anything of an original genius; but Tiki Whenua most certainly was. I
don't think there is another instance of a man blowing himself from a