, there are several parties who
will start from more distant places, and who will also make for the
range as their terminal point. We hope, by this concentrated drive, to
kill as many pigs as possible, and to cause the rest of them to retire
beyond the narrow space between the rivers; then the whole of our block
will be free from them for some time to come. We have thought of running
a fence across from river to river, but the rough nature of the ground,
and the absence of suitable material quite close to the required spot,
would make this rather too arduous--and therefore too expensive--a work
for us to perform just yet, in our incipient stage of settlement. So we
content ourselves with an annual hunt on a grand and conjoint scale,
and with such minor forays as it pleases individuals to make from time
to time.

Our way at first--I speak of the band which regards Old Colonial as its
chief director--lies up the clearings, through the bush above, and so to
the elevated ground behind the shanty. Here a halt is called, and our
band is again subdivided into two divisions, which are to take along the
two ranges that commence from this point, hunting the gullies on both
sides of them as they go. Then there is a loud fire of coo-ees, to
ascertain the position of the brigades that started under Mihake and the
other man. Their answering coo-ees come faintly but clearly out of the
distant bush on both sides of us, denoting that they have severally
reached their appointed starting places.

And now the work begins in earnest. There is a tightening of belts, a
putting out of pipes, and a general air of alertness on every face. For
a time we go plunging on among the trees and brushwood, encouraging the
dogs that are hunting the gullies below with frequent shouts of "Hi,
there, Rimu! Go in, Shark!" and so forth. We have not yet started any
pigs, though here and there we pass tracts of ground ploughed up by
them.

But, soon, there is a sudden burst of barking from the right, and some
of us rush frantically off in that direction. But the loud voice of Old
Colonial is heard calling in the dogs and shouting--

"Ware cattle! Ware cattle! Keep back there, it's Red Spot's mob!"

And presently, with flying tails and tossing horns, a score of great
beasts go lumbering and crashing by, pursued by that ill-conditioned
Shark, who never will remember his duty, and persists in chasing pigs
when his business is to be after cattle, and so, to-day