With the fear of fresh raids in their mind the survivors of its people, together with their White allies, elected to follow where so many of their tribes had already gone--to Cook's Straits, in the footsteps of Rauparaha.
So they, too, chanted their farewells to their home, and turning southward, marched away.

When the Waikatos had once more swept down the coast, and had finally withdrawn, it was left empty and desolate.
A remnant, a little handful, built themselves a _pa_ on one of the Sugar-Loaves.

A few more lurked in the recesses of Mount Egmont.
Otherwise the fertile land was a desert.

A man might toil along the harbourless beaches for days with naught for company but the sea-gulls and the thunder of the surf; while inland,--save for a few birds,--the rush of streams and pattering of mountain-showers on the leaves were all that broke the silence of lifeless forests.
To the three warrior chiefs, whose feuds and fights have now been outlined, must be added a fourth and even more interesting figure.
Rauparaha, fierce among the fierce, cunning among the cunning, was not only perhaps the most skilful captain of his time, not only a devastator second only to Hongi, but was fated to live on into another era and to come into sharp and fatal collision with the early colonists.

One result among others is that we have several portraits of him with both pen and pencil.