in the Teremakau, where they could not earn their salt, for the purpose of leading the diggers to suppose that the gold had been got in that quarter. Here let me add that, shortly after the Greenstone had been discovered, I was informed that the Maories had completely stopped up the track; thus it was that the new arrivals went wrong. I cannot vouch for the truth of this, but it was told me by a half-caste, and it is exceedingly probable. I stood my ground, however, and the Maories promised to help me if I was interfered with. Next day the whole crowd came down, and camped near the store, so that I could hear some, as they passed the store, cursing and swearing at me, while others said nothing. There was a Dutchman who had most to say, who stole a case of gin from my store that night. This Dutchman came into the store, and said I was wanted outside. He had been round the diggers’ tents trying to incite them against me, and although the case had assumed a serious aspect, I could hardly refrain from laughing at the horrible attempt at the English language displayed by this man, more especially owing to the state of excitement into which he had worked himself from imagining that he was a deeply-injured individual. I had neither arms nor ammunition of any kind, for up to that time they were not wanted on the West Coast. I went to the fire, a large one, which, by-the-bye, was being fed by coals that had been brought down the river for the Nelson Government.
It was rather an exciting moment as, stepping outside the store, the thought struck me that my life hung as it were upon a thread—that the weight of a feather would probably turn the scale either way. I was there standing accused, though wrongfully, of having wilfully brought a number of my fellow-countrymen to an outlandish district, probably to suffer want and ruin. I knew that nothing but self-possession would avail me, so I made the most of my position, and put my trust in Providence. I shall never forget the impression of that scene as it first met my gaze; the bright glare of the huge coal fire, the motley group of roughly-attired figures around it—some silent and thoughtful, others fierce and clamorous, with every species of anger and revenge visible on their countenances—the solemn and monotonous roar of the distant breakers, together with the surrounding mountain scenery in all its pristine grandeur, formed a romantic picture, rude and wild in the extreme. There were a great many men round the fire waiting for me, and when I made my appearance they began to ask questions of me. I may as well state here that all the Maories, men and women, were then close by, and ready to give me any assistance. There is no need to tell what they were armed with, but there would have been some bloodshed that night had the diggers interfered with me; some of the men had taken the potatoes out of the Maori pits at Teremakau. The first question put to me by the aforesaid Dutchman was,
