face towards Mount Egmont, and swept all before him.  Only at a strong hill-pa looking down upon the Waitara river, did his enemies venture to make a stand.  They easily repulsed his first assaults, but hundreds of women and children were among the refugees, and as was the wont of the Maoris, no proper stock of provisions had been laid in.  On the thirteenth day, therefore, the defenders, weakened and half starved, had to make a frantic attempt to break through the Waikatos.  Part managed to get away; most were either killed at once, or hunted down and taken.  Many women threw themselves with their children over the cliff into the Waitara.  Next day the captives were brought before Te Whero Whero.  Those with the best tattooed faces were carefully beheaded that their heads might be sold unmarred to the White traders.  The skulls of the less valuable were cleft with tomahawk or mere.  Te Whero Whero himself slew many scores with a favourite greenstone weapon.  A miserable train of slaves were spared to labour in the villages of the Waikato.

[Illustration:  MOUNT EGMONT, TARANAKI

Photo by I.A.  MARTIN, Wanganui]

Ahead of the victorious chieftain lay yet another pa.  It was near those quaint conical hills—­the Sugar-Loaves—­which, rising in and near the sea, are as striking a feature as anything can be in the landscape where Egmont’s white peak dwarfs all else.  Compared to the force in the Waitara pa the garrison of this last refuge was small—­only three hundred and fifty, including women and children.  But among them were eleven Whites.  Some of these may have been what Mr. Rusden acidly styles them all—­“dissipated Pakeha-Maoris living with Maori Delilahs.”  But they were Englishmen, and had four old ship’s guns.  They decided to make a fight of it for their women and children and their trade.  They got their carronades ready, and laboured to infuse a little order and system into the excitable mob around them.  So when the alarm-cry, E!  Taua!  Taua! rang out from the watchmen of the pa, the inmates were found resolute and even prepared.  In vain the invaders tried all their wiles.  Their rushes were repulsed, the firebrands they showered over the palisades were met by wet clay banking, and their treacherous offers of peace and good-will declined.  Though one of the carronades burst, the others did good execution, and when shot and scrap-iron failed, the artillerymen used pebbles.  Dicky Barrett, already mentioned, was the life and soul of the defence.  The master of a schooner which came upon the coast in the midst of the siege tried to mediate, and stipulated for a free exit for the Whites.  Te Whero Whero haughtily refused; he would spare their lives, but would certainly make slaves of them.  He had better have made a bridge for their escape.  The siege dragged on.  The childish chivalry of the Maoris amazed the English.  Waikato messengers were allowed to enter the pa and examine the guns and defences.