Seeing the next moment, however, that the white man was unarmed and alone, the Maori brought his rifle-butt down on his leg again, and stared with wonder at the forlorn-looking white soldier before him.
"Here, you pakeha!" he cried, in mixed English and Maori; "go back, quick! Haere atu, haere atu! Go 'way back to t'e soldiers. I shoot you suppose you no go! Hoki atu!"
"Shoot away!" returned the white man. "I won't go back. I'm running away from the soldiers. I want to go to the Maoris. Take me with you!"
"You tangata kuwaré!" the Maori said. "You pakeha fool, go back! T'e Maori kill you, my word! You look out."
"I don't care if they do," replied the soldier. "I tell you, I want to live with the Hauhaus."
"E pai ana"! ("It is well"), said the scout. "All right, you come along. But you look out for my tribe—they kill you."
"I'm not frightened of your tribe," said the soldier.
"What your name, pakeha?" was the next question.
"Kimble Bent," answered the pakeha.
The Maori attempted the pronunciation of the name, but the nearest he could get to it was "Kimara Peneti."
"Too hard a name for t'e Maori," he said.
