III.

Meanwhile upon another side
Young Ranolf with a trusty band
Had sallied,—when his anxious bride
Fair Amo,—who what e'er her fears
Gave no weak way to sighs and tears
But o'er her heart kept brave command,
Had to her serious brow and breast
Her hero—husband—lover prest;
And prayed him, only for her sake
Be careful, or her heart would break!
But he, although his own beat fast
With strange excitement at this new
Experience, reassuring smiled
On the devoted desert-child;
And with that confidence, the glow
Of burning blood, and nerves high-strung
And braced by hardy life, bestow
On those bom brave, in health, and young—
Till death, disaster, they contemn
As things not meant, not made for them!
And hold their fortune, fate so high,
All danger they may well defy
page 383 He bade her, laughingly, rely
Upon his luck, too good by far
For him to fall in such a war!
Then sallied with his friends, where they
As older warriors, led the way.
With no ferocious wish to slay,
No savage thirst for blood, at first
Our generous youngster only chose
To use his deadlier weapon more
To save his friends than harm his foes.
And when increased the wild uproar,
And more intense the tustle grew,
Himself with wild delight he threw
Into the press as it had been
Some headlong, jovial, schoolboy scene,
?King-seal-ye!'—football—any game
Might more than usual daring claim.

While thus engaged, it chanced the youth
Full upon Wheturiri came;
And with a moment's shock, in truth,
That back his blood's quick current sent,
Found his revolver's barrels spent!
Himself, in fact, unarmed, before
The Chief who down upon him bore,
But paused until he joyful saw
The pistol never raised to fire;
Then out his tongue was thrust—his jaw
Aside—his eyes turned back—his face
Distorted with the grim grimace,
His sign of hate, defiance, ire;
High whirled his axe for one sure blow
To lay his helpless victim low.
page 384 But Ranolf rallying swift as light
Or lightning, leaping forward, dashed
(Before the axe could downward sweep)
His clenched right hand with all his might
And the momentum of his leap,
Full into that grimacing grin;
And made the astonished savage spin,—-
While fast his rolling eyeballs flashed
With other gleams than fury lent—
Clean o'er the ditch's sheer descent
Amid the smouldering stakes that crashed
Beneath him as he headlong went,
Wondering what demon could assist
The weight of that hard English fist—
" Kapai! ka NUI pai!—Well done!
O right well done!" a hoarse voice cried—
Old Tangi's—at his topmost run
As rushing round the palisade
That brief encounter he espied,
And hastened to the young man's aid.
—A griesly sight in sooth was he
That huge exulting Chief to see,
As there with lowered axe he stood
And Whetu's smashing fall surveyed!
From his broad axe-blade dripped and drained
The blood; and all with hostile blood
His hoary hair and beard were stained;
With drops of fierce exertion rained
His brow; his chest—so rugged, vast,
And muscle-woven like the twist
Of cable-cords some olive rears,
Some mighty trunk eight hundred years
Have seen in rocky strength resist
page 385 Their rending frost and raging heat;
Like some great engine working fast,
That knotty chest quick-heaving beat
So stood the Giant in his glee
In friendly hideous ecstasy
! But scarce could toil or triumph check
His course an instant; on he went
(As Ranolf leaving clear his road
Back to the barrier stepped to load)
On towards his prostrate breathless prey
That fallen Star,—with fell intent
To dash his life out where he lay.
But ere he reached him, to his feet
Up sprung Te Whetu, bold, erect—
Though still his blue-lined face streamed red
With that well-planted blow's effect;
At first prepared his foe to meet;
But seemed an instant to reflect;
That tough encounter seemed to dread;
Then shouting bade his men retreat,
And o'er the flat, deliberate, fled.
Swift passed the word from man to man
And swiftly leaping down they ran
On all sides from the leagueved fort.
Three steps to follow, Tangi took,
With glad but half-astonished look;
And then in full career stopped short;
Smiled sternly with disdainful lip;
And pulling with his finger-tip
His under-eyelid down in scorn
"Is this your mutton-fish! Am I
Your greenhorn I" was his haughty cry;
For all the plan was patent then,
page 386 To draw him to the open plain,
Where his slight force though stanch and good,
No chance against their numbers stood.
So, with the crowd though onward borne
A moment, bark he forced his men;
Bade them for very shame restrain
Their shouts of 'Victory,' yet to gain;
And soon had all except the slain
Safe in the fort, to counsel there
How best they might the wall repair—
How best to meet—forestall—defeat,
The next assault their foes might dare.