e were no whares
in the place itself. Now a wahi tapu was so sacred that no one but a
tohunga dared to approach its boundaries, even under pain of death and
damnation; so that such a place was always in some very out-of-the-way
locality, certainly never near a spot so much frequented as this would
be.

"It's tapu enough now, though, and has been ever since the battle,
which, I opine, must have been fought somewhere about 1825. The chiefs
won't sell an inch of this piece to any one; and not a Maori dares go
near it. Lots of people have tried to buy it, and have even offered as
much as five pounds an acre for its magnificent soil; but the Maoris
are not to be tempted, and, what's more, say they'll have utu from any
Pakeha that goes into it.

"Once, some years ago, I was out pig-hunting, and killed a big one just
on the top of that scaur. The carcase rolled down into the water, and
the tide carried it away down river. It was washed up at Tama-te-Whiti's
place, six miles below this. Now Tama, although he's an ordained parson,
still retains most of the old superstitions, as all the older Maoris do.
He was in a terrible stew when this pig, killed on tapu ground, and
consequently tapu itself, stranded on his beach. His wife and he came
out with long poles and pushed it into the water. Then they got into
their boat, and managed to get the pig out into the channel and set it
floating off again. Afterwards they carefully burnt the poles that had
touched the dreadful thing. Finally, Tama came up to me and demanded
utu, which I had to pay him. If we had not been such good friends, and
if Tama had not been more sensible than the other Maoris, I believe the
district would have been too hot to hold me.

"Tama told me the whole history of the place; and gave me a graphic
account of the battle, in which he took part. He is one of the 'last of
the cannibals,' one of the few survivors of the old fighting days,
before the missionaries caused the abolition of cannibalism.

"You know who Hongi was, I suppose? The great chief of the Ngapuhi, who
was so friendly with Marsden and the first missionaries, who went to
Sydney and then to England, was presented to King George and made much
of. When he got back to Sydney, this astute savage 'realized' on all the
fine things that had been given him, and turned the proceeds into
muskets, powder, and ball. Then he loaded up a trading-schooner,
chartering her with a promise of a return cargo of pigs,