except a boy who slipped into the scrub unnoticed.  McCulloch, a farmer, was shot as he sat milking.  Several fugitives owed their lives to the heroism of a friendly chief, Tutari, who refused to gain his life by telling their pursuers the path they had taken.  The Hau Haus killed him and seized his wife, who, however, adroitly saved both the flying settlers and herself by pointing out the wrong track.  Lieutenant Gascoigne with a hasty levy of friendly Natives set out after the murderers, only to be easily held in check at Makaretu with a loss of twenty-eight killed and wounded.  Te Kooti, moreover, intercepted an ammunition train and captured eight kegs of gunpowder.  Fortifying himself on a precipitous forest-clad hill named Ngatapa, he seemed likely to rally round him the disaffected of his race.  But his red star was about to wane.  Ropata with his Ngatiporou now came on the scene.  A second attack on Makaretu sent the insurgents flying.  They left thirty-seven dead behind, for Ropata gave no quarter, and had not his men loitered to plunder, Te Kooti, who, still lame, was carried off on a woman’s back, must have been among their prizes.  Pushing on to Ngatapa, Ropata found it a very formidable stronghold.  The pa was on the summit of an abrupt hill, steep and scarped on two sides, narrowing to a razor-backed ridge in the rear.  In front three lines of earthwork rose one above another, the highest fourteen feet high, aided and connected by the usual rifle-pits and covered way.  Most of Ropata’s men refused to follow him against such a robbers’ nest, and though the fearless chief tried to take it with the faithful minority, he had to fall back, under cover of darkness, and return home in a towering passion.  A month later his turn came.  Whitmore arrived.  Joining their forces, he and Ropata invested Ngatapa closely, attacked it in front and rear, and took the lowest of the three lines of intrenchment.  A final assault was to come next morning.  The Hau Haus were short of food and water, and in a desperate plight.  But one cliff had been left unwatched, and over that they lowered themselves by ropes as the storming party outside sat waiting for the grey dawn.  They were not, however, to escape unscathed.  Ropata at once sent his men in chase.  Hungry and thirsty, the fugitives straggled loosely, and were cut down by scores or brought back.  Short shrift was theirs.  The Government had decided that Poverty Bay must be revenged, and the prisoners were forthwith shot, and their bodies stripped and tossed over a cliff.  From first to last at Ngatapa the loss to the Hau Haus was 136 killed outright, ours but 22, half of whom were wounded only.  It was the last important engagement fought in New Zealand, and ended all fear of a general rising.  Yet in one respect the success was incomplete:  Te Kooti once more escaped.  This time he reached the fastnesses of the wild Urewera tribe, and made more than one bloodstained raid thence.  In April he pounced on Mohaka, at the northern end