234 TUTIRA 



length, flat on the ground for miles, lay the material of the future 

 fence. How delightful then to note its erection, strain after strain, 

 mile after mile, over gorge and slope, straight as a Roman road 

 to its appointed end ; to test the deep-sunk, hard-rammed strainers ; 

 to feel the adamantine fixity of the footed and rise - posts ; to 

 observe the neat pattern of the stapling, the trim -cut knots, the 

 final result, six wires evenly parallel and taut as fiddle-strings. A 

 fence -line can be erected to the glory of the Lord as truly as a 

 cathedral pile. 



The block first handled consisted of about 1600 acres of fairly 

 good conglomerate land. The preliminary step was to get it 

 burnt not always an easy job, for it has always been impossible 

 to be sure of a prolonged spell of drought on Tutira. There has 

 been anxiety always lest wet weather should supervene, lest the 

 bracken should not dry sufficiently to ensure a clean burn. With 

 what trepidation, as autumn approached, have we not watched the 

 skies ! for not only had the bracken to be dry, but for a perfect 

 burning day an atmosphere of scorching aridity was also required 

 a cloudless sky. On the particular March morning when we thus 

 burnt out Stuart's paddock for the first time, all went well. A 

 fierce sun blazed uninterruptedly from a sky of deepest blue ; thin 

 wisps of cloud, signs of the coming gale, lay high over the 

 Maungaharuru Range. By eleven o'clock be sure we were on the 

 spot promptly we were waiting, one eye on our watches the other 

 on the sky, feeling for preliminary puffs of air, handling lovingly 

 the lucifers that would give us black ground, a sward of English 

 grass, increase of healthy stock, and supply a long train of benefits 

 to the beloved station. There we waited in the fern barely restrain- 

 ing ourselves, "calming ourselves to the long-wished-for end," reflect- 

 ing that every hour, every half hour, every minute of patience, was 

 drying more and more thoroughly the layers of brake piled one on 

 top of another. 



What anxieties have I not known during the last hour or so of 

 such a vigil ! Supposing the wished-for breeze should fail ? Supposing 

 white fleecy clouds should diffuse a deplorable damp ? forebodings dark 

 as those conjured up in a banker's parlour arise in the mind. Supposing 

 I have known it happen the sky should become overcast, yet not 

 actually forbid a fire? Suppose there should be the tragic choice of 



