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a pig track, they saw the marks of the pony’s feet, and following the trail they came to the pony himself. He was tied to a flax bush, but so lightly that the least pull would have set him loose. There, however, he had evidently stayed since the previous night, and further observations showed Mr. Dicken’s own track leading into the bush. They followed it for a few chains, but it then became imperceptible, and though they again and again tried to see where it led, and Mr. Silk knew the print of the boots so thoroughly as to be able to identify their marks anywhere, they could find nothing to guide them. Eventually they returned to French Farm and gave the alarm to Mr. Dicken’s family, and to the people living at Akaroa. Search parties were organised, and every hill and gully was searched for a week, but without result. The search was most thorough. There was a big totara tree in the bush, and each party on going in used to mark on this tree the direction in which they were searching, so every gully was scoured. Miss Dicken offered a reward of £500 for the body of her brother, alive or dead, but the men could not have searched better than they did for any reward. The Maoris offered to come for a certain sum down, but they did not fancy having anything to do with a corpse, and rather shunned the search, their superstition being awakened by the whole matter. What seemed most puzzling was that the dog did not come back, as it would if anything had happened to Mr. Dicken. At last the search was given up, and the Akaroa people went back, the understanding being that if the dog came back, or there were anything fresh happened, Messrs. Tribe and Silk should make a smoke at a certain point to let the Akaroa people know.

Just a fortnight after Mr. Dicken’s disappearance, Mr. Silk was at the back of the house at French Farm, washing his clothes, when, looking round,