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Preface

Every Johnny not a professional novelist has, I suppose, some reason besides making money when he sits down to write a book, for, as far as I can see, there is deuced little pleasure to be gained by the author while occupied in doing so, especially if, like myself, he should have passed some forty years of his life on the frontiers of the Empire, and, with the exception of writing an occasional letter, has never, during that time, taken a pen in his hand. My reason is that during the last three or four years, since broken health and bad luck drove me back to civilisation, such as it is in England, I have frequently been knocked end-ways by the woeful ignorance of all classes of Englishmen, not only of the history of the various colonies that form the Empire, but also of the struggles of the men in acquiring and holding the same. Again I have noticed no one ever gives the colonial irregular troops the least credit of having fought and suffered in the Imperial cause, nor does anyone in this country seem to be aware of the debt the Empire owes to the men of the Lost Legion.

Not long ago I dined at the same table with a big city pot, who after dinner gassed inordinately about Our Empire, laying a great stress on the "our," as if he had been a prime mover in the settlement of every country contained in it. New Zealand was the country under discussion, and amongst page 2other twaddle he discoursed on the wonderful progress WE (a very big "we") had made in those islands. During a pause in the conversation I humbly asked him: "How did England acquire this fruitful country?" With a disdainful smile he condescended to inform me Captain Cook found it and gave it to England. "But," said I, "surely in my young days I remember a lot of fighting going on there." "Oh yes," he replied, "there was some trouble out there, but WE" (a big "we" again) "sent out our soldiers, who soon put a stop to that, and then WE" (a huge "we" this time) "developed the country until it is one of the gardens of the world." Still with due humility I asked if he were a New Zealand colonist, and was not astonished when he replied: "Good gracious me, no; I have never been in the country, and except to occasionally visit the Continent, I never leave England."

This and many other instances determined me to jump into the breach, and try if a yarn, even written by such a duffer as myself, can educate some few of my countrymen, and let them know what sort of a life the men of the Lost Legion led during the wars that took place in New Zealand from 1866 to 1871, which wars eventually pacified the North Island, and were fought without the assistance of a single Imperial soldier.

Moreover thousands of novels have been written with plots founded on the splendid achievements of our gallant army and navy, then why should not one be penned about the deeds of the Lost Legion, the men who have not only rolled out the map of the Empire, as the deft hand of a cook rolls out page 3a lump of dough, but who have also held that ground until properly settled by their own countrymen.

Innumerable and unknown are the graves of the Lost Legionaries, slain as they have been by the bullet, tomahawk and assagai of their savage opponents, or cut down by hunger, thirst and the malarial fevers of the lands into which they have penetrated.

And now if I need any further excuse for inflicting this badly written (for I claim no pretensions to literary skill) yarn upon you, let me inform you that in the main the facts are all strictly true, and that the men I have tried to depict lived, starved, fought and died in the very manner described in this volume.

So now that we are inspanned let's trek.