tied up with a mass of supple-jack and lawyer vines. I never attempted to penetrate the scrub without a good sharp billhook. The early diggers at Hokitika told a tale of how, when camped on the beach, a man shot a pigeon on a tree while standing at his tent door; he pushed into the scrub to get it, but found it as thick as a hedge, so he went on his hands and knees crawling under the masses of vines. It took him until dinner-time to reach the tree on which he had shot the bird, and it took him until dark to get back to the tent with the pigeon, the distance being about sixty feet. I can quite believe this to be true, for many years afterwards I set out a line of railway from Westport to the Ngakawau River through this kind of scrub and in many cases it had to be cut on the top as well as on both sides. In fact it was like making a tunnel through the vegetation. Before the diggers came water fowl were very plentiful, and a canoe paddled quietly up stream could go by without causing much disturbance. It was charming to see the teal perched on half submerged logs, and the grey and paradise ducks paddling about among the smaller fowl.”
Despite the fact that game was thus found in abundance on the roaring rivers of Westland they were its greatest menace. The dangers of fearful alpine passes and trackless forests were bad enough, and many, many gallant men there laid down their lives,
