Henry. — Old Huts at Dusky Sound. 679 



presence, put out fires and laid low, he might have missed 

 seeing the village, if he only put in to the first creek for hinch 

 on his way out round the island. 



I stayed several days, for the dim traces were of great in- 

 terest. I could distinctly trace the pathways worn out of the 

 hillside, and in one place a piece going up hill was corduroyed 

 with the durable " pungas," just barely preserved well enough 

 to give an idea of their origin. In another some rude fellow 

 had built his hut in the natural patii, and every one had to go 

 up hill a little to get past it, for the place was crowded with 

 huts, and on many are little mounds of decayed "pungas" 

 grown over with scrub and fern-trees. 



It is not only pleasant in the cove, but outside it is beauti- 

 ful among the many little islands, where the water is so 

 smooth. I landed on several islands, but it takes time, for 

 there are about forty of them. They are all bush, of course, 

 but it is not hard to walk through. They are generally pretty 

 high, and some are little mountains too steep to climb. I 

 think I saw traces of huts everywhere I landed, so that there 

 must have been a great number of people here at one time. 

 Then, by the greatest piece of good luck, I went to a steep 

 little flat-topped island in the sun, on the side of a narrow 

 strait, and there I found two little huts standing entire, just 

 as they were left, perhaps, a hundred years ago, though this 

 is hard to believe, one of them looked so good. The wind had 

 eddied the dry leaves into it, which suggested a sleeper there 

 not long ago, but it must have been a Van Winkle, for out of 

 the roof is growing a tree, a Senecio, not up through the roof, 

 but it started on top, and sent its roots down the punga roof. 

 It is in an airy dry place, where you may suppose the tree 

 that loves the wet would not grow quickly, yet its stem is 

 6 in. thick. I wish I could send the hut to you, but it is too 

 frail to move, for my dog got up on it and broke in a rafter. 

 It is about 8 ft. long and 6 ft. wide, ridge-pole and all of 

 pungas, with one end open. It is a hovel that any man 

 would need long training to live in, so it is probably that of 

 a Maori who could not find room to suit him m the cove, or a 

 temporary camp. I often wondered what they did for a tent, 

 but there it is, and not a bad substitute when it is cold and 

 windy ; and the material was easily cut with their stone axes. 

 Or perhaps it was a Maori of later date who wanted to hide, 

 because it is in the most unlikely place for any one to land, 

 and there is a good look-out. Fancy some refugee of that 

 broken tribe, who had experience of the sealers' tender mer- 

 cies, living here until recent years, distrusting everything in 

 a boat, or in the shape of a man. Maybe he is not dead yet, 

 and if ever I find him I will present him with a beautiful 

 dinghy, axes, spike-nails, and fishhook, and then be as happy 



