Piri Chooses a Present
by RENE M. THOMAS
drawings by CLARE BOWES

IT WAS FRIDAY. Piri and Hemi were walking home from school together, feeling happy because there were two free days 
ahead of them. Piri was thinking about eeling. He liked school, but he liked eeling better. And now the weather was just right for 
it - calm and warm.
Dad wouldn't let them stay up late on school nights, but he always found something exciting for them 
to do on
Saturday nights. He might take all the children to see a film, or to a hui at the pa, where their 
grandmother lived. But
Piri thought the very best times of all were outings to the river, to catch eels.
He stopped walking. He remembered the chatter in the playground.
"Hemi," he said, "it's Father's Day on Sunday."
"Help!" replied his brother. "We haven't got a present for Dad. Nobody remembered. If Mum had been 
home she'd
have reminded us, that's for sure." Their mother had been away in Taranaki, looking after a sick relative. The children were all 
helping Dad with the cooking 
and cleaning.
"We must buy a present for him today," went on Hemi. "Have you any money?"
"I think there might be about twenty cents in my piggy bank. It feels heavy."
"Come on, then! Let's see how much the girls have."
They ran the rest of the way home, where they found Ani and Rua spreading 
large slices of bread with butter and jam.
The girls wanted to buy a present for Dad, too. They turned out all their 
drawers in search of lost coins. Tama was
playing with Kip, the black and tan terrier.
"Have you any money, Tama?'' asked Piri.
Tama pushed a hand deep into his pocket, while the others waited 
anxiously. He held up ten cents.
"I've been saving this for some marbles," he said, "but you can have it for Dad."
They spread the money on the table. Hemi had been paid that day for delivering papers, so his donation was the largest one. 
There was one dollar and twenty-five cents altogether.
"That's a lot of money," said. Ani. "We can buy Dad a super present with that."
Hemi hastily swallowed his last mouthful of bread and jam.
"This must be a secret until Sunday," he said, "because that's Father's 
Day. We'd better go to the shops now, before Dad comes home from work."
The children set off to the shops, Kip running ahead and barking noisily.
"We'll go to the store," said Hemi. He was the oldest and liked to tell 
the others what to do. "They've got all kinds of
good things there."
But when they walked round and round inside the store they couldn't make 
up their minds what to buy. Everyone had
a different idea, and the things they wanted for their father were much 
too expensive. Hemi began to feel desperate.
"We'll have to hurry, kids," he told them. "It's nearly time for Dad to 
get home."
"Hi! Come here!"
They all ran to where Piri was standing by a shelf. His eyes were 
shining, and he was pointing to a bright red torch, a
monster torch.
"Just look at this!" he exclaimed. "It stands by itself. You don't need 
to hold it, and it has a beauty big bulb. What d'you think?"
"Oh, yes," agreed Rua. "Dad hasn't got a torch."
"And when we go eeling . . ," Piri was so excited that the words came 
tumbling out one after the other, "Dad can
shine this in the water and make the eels come up to the top."
"You're right, boy! How much is the torch, Mr Jones?" asked Hemi.
"A dollar fifty," replied Mr Jones.
Five faces lost their smiles. The children were disappointed.
"We've got a dollar twenty-five," said Piri hopefully. "That's all the 
money we could find."
"Sorry, lad. I can't make it any cheaper. A dollar fifty is the sale 
price. Is there anything else you'd like instead?"
They shook their heads sadly. Piri thought hard, then he said in a 
mournful voice, "I'll put in my shiny halfcrown."
"No, you won't," said Hemi firmly. "Uncle Waka gave us our halfcrowns to 
keep always. Dad would be angry if you
spent that, and he's supposed to be happy on Father's Day."
Mr Jones looked at their downcast faces.
"Tell you what," he said. "I want all my eggs packed into cartons. How 
would you like to earn the extra money doing
that job?"
"You bet!" All the faces were eager and smiling again.
Hemi took charge.
"Piri, you and Tama pack the eggs, and don't break any. I'll do my paper run. You girls get tea ready."
He handed Mr Jones the collection of money and hurried off to get his bike. Piri and Tama set to work 
very, very
carefully. It was fun at first, but soon their fingers began to ache. They were glad when the job was 
finished. Mr Jones
wrapped the torch in paper and they ran home with it clutched under Piri's arm. Dad was home, but 
they slipped into
the bedroom and hid the parcel without being seen.
When Piri woke next morning the first thing he remembered was the torch. He unwrapped it and sat up in bed gazing at it.
"Boy, it's a beauty!" he whispered to Tama.
All that day he thought about the torch. He could hardly bear to wait for Sunday to arrive. He was 
picturing the delight
on Dad's face when they gave him the present.
While they were having tea, Piri asked, "You taking us eeling to-night, Dad?"
His father went to the window.
"I don't think it's a good night for eeling," he said.
"Dad ... you promised!"
"Why isn't it a good night?"
"It's black as pitch outside," replied Dad, "and you know as well as I do that there must be a moon or stars to make the eels come 
to the surface. We wouldn't catch any."
"It took me ages to dig the worms," said Tama sadly, "and now they'll be wasted."
"Would you go if you had a light?" asked Piri eagerly.
His father nodded, and Piri looked at the others, his eyes sparkling. The girls giggled and their 
father raised his
eyebrows in surprise.
"Okay!" agreed Hemi.
Piri almost fell off the chair in his hurry to get the parcel. He thrust it into his father's hands.
"With love from us all, Dad," he said. "It's your Father's Day present. I hope you don't mind having it a bit early."
They all watched expectantly as Dad unwrapped the torch. When it was lying on the table, bright red 
and shining, he
threw back his head and laughed heartily.
The children laughed too.
"What a fine present!" he said. "I've never in my life seen a better torch. Thank you, chaps! And now, off with you and wrap up 
warmly. Hemi, get the hooks and the sacks. Piri, bring the lines, and Tama the worms. They won't be wasted after all!"
Shouting and laughing, the children scampered off.
"Fried eel for breakfast on Father's Day," laughed Dad. "Yippee-ee!"

The Bat and the Rat
a folk story from Niue Island by A. AVISON
illustrated by BEVERLEY BUXTON

THERE ONCE LIVED a bat and a rat who were very good friends. When there was 
work to be done, they did it
together. One day they made up their minds to go to the bush and clear some 
ground for a banana plantation.
They cleared the land and planted the banana shoots. As they went home they 
felt very pleased with themselves and
played hide and seek. The rat always won because he was a very cunning 
fellow.
Some weeks later the bat asked the rat to go to the banana plantation to 
see how the plants were growing. The rat
scampered through the bush to the plantation and found that each banana 
plant had put out its first leaf. When he
arrived home he told his good friend the bat that they hadn't started 
growing yet.
Several weeks went by, and the bat again asked the rat to go to the plantation to see how the plants were growing.
Again the rat scampered through the bush, his long tail rustling through the dry leaves. Every banana plant in the whole 
plantation had a lovely bunch of red bananas on it. The rat was very pleased with what he saw.
When he arrived home he told the bat that the plants were just showing 
their first leaves and it would be many weeks
before they would have any fruit. The bat said that there hadn't been much 
rain and that was why the plants were so
slow in growing.
A month later the bat again asked his friend the rat to go to the banana 
plantation to see how the plants were
growing. The cunning rat scampered through the bush, and his long tail 
rustled through the dry leaves. Arriving at the
plantation the rat found that the bananas were just right, and he ate as 
many as he could. His journey home was very
slow. He told his friend the bat that the bananas were just beginning to 
fruit and it would be some time before they
were ripe.
Every day for the next month, the rat scampered through the bush. Every 
day, he ate as many bananas as he could,
until there were none left. The very next morning, the bat asked the rat to 
come with him to the banana plantation,
because the fruit would be ripe and they would enjoy a good meal together. 
When they reached the plantation, there
stood the banana plants with their empty stalks hanging down. The two 
friends went from tree to tree, but all the fruit
had been eaten. The cunning rat told his friend the bat that he thought the 
birds had stolen their fruit.
Angry with hunger and rage the bat called all the birds in the island. He 
called them from the North, from the South, from the East and the West.
As the birds arrived the bat lined them up and asked them to open their beaks. He and the rat examined the inside of every bird's 
beak, but none of them were stained red from the bananas.
The bat turned to the rat and asked him to open his mouth.
The rat tried to avoid this by asking the bat who his best
friend was. The bat answered that he was. The rat asked him
again if he couldn't trust his best friend. But, no matter how
hard the rat tried to get him to change his mind, the bat still
said that the rat had to take his turn. There was no escape,
and when the rat opened his mouth the bat and all the birds
saw the red stains on the inside of his throat. The unfaithful
rat was chased away by the angry unhappy bat, who went
home to an empty and very lonely house. The bat missed his
friend the rat. He missed his company. He missed the games
they used to play.
A few months later, as he was walking through the bush,
he heard his old friend's voice. He stopped and looked at the
rat, who was sitting at the top of a coconut palm.
"Hullo, old friend," said the rat. "It's a long time since
I've seen you. I've really missed you.
"My friend, please don't be angry with me any more. I couldn't help being greedy and eating all the 
bananas.
"I ask your forgiveness. May I come and talk to you?"
As the rat climbed down, the bat thought of the good times they had had, and of how much he missed 
his old friend.
His heart softened and he was ready to forgive. When the rat reached the ground, they rushed to each 
other and held
each other tightly. In the shade of the trees they talked happily for many hours.
"I'd like to try your wings," said the rat, but the bat wasn't really listening. The rat asked again, 
and this time the bat
said, "Yes, dear friend, but don't fly too high."
When he had the wings on, the rat flew slowly and close to the ground.
"You fly very well for a rat," called the bat, and the rat flew a little faster and a little higher. 
Suddenly he flew upwards
and faster. As he did he called good-bye to the poor unhappy bat on the ground. The poor bat pleaded and begged for his wings 
but the cruel unfaithful rat flew away.

Tai Taylor is Born
by MARGARET MAHY
illustrated by Jill McDonald

PEOPLE ARE ALWAYS writing of this hero and that hero. Heroes come in all sizes from General Tom Thumb to Galligantua, 
the King of the Happy Giants, and I love to read about them all. Any hero who can drink the sea dry or fight twenty pirates or 
split a block of marble with an axe - well, I'll read to the last word about that hero any time. But there's one hero I don't seem to 
hear much about and if ever there was a 
pounding bounding boasting laughing mountain-leaping ocean-swimming son of a sea captain hero, it was the great Tai Taylor.
You haven't heard of Tai? Well there you are - and what I want to know is why not? Because he's as good as any other. Why 
even when he was a baby - but that's getting to the end before I've properly begun. Let me mention Tai's mother and father first.
Just as the pakeha began to arrive in New Zealand and build his farms and towns, just as the brown times began to give way to 
the patchwork times we now enjoy, a very fierce tall strong hairy sea-captain called Bartholomew Taylor, came wading out of 
the sea one morning, close to a Maori settlement. His ship had been wrecked and the rest of the crew drowned. But even the sea 
was a bit uncertain about Captain Taylor 
and left him alone. So he got to the shore and the kindly Maoris met him and fed him with kumara and potted pigeon and also 
gave him some dry clothes made of flax and feathers.
Now the chief of this tribe had a daughter called Teina te Marama - Sister of the Moon - because she was so beautiful. She 
moved like wind and water and sang like a bird. You can guess that Captain Taylor decided to marry her straight away. And 
Marama, who had seen Captain Taylor striding out  of the sea like an Ocean King, wearing the waves as a cloak, had decided to 
marry him straight away too.
But Marama's father and the tribe in general didn't want Marama to marry a pakeha. So the two of them had to run away. One 
night Captain Taylor packed up a change of clothes and his toothbrush (which he had saved from the shipwreck), and Marama 
brought some food in a kit-bag. Off they went into the bush as swift and true as kingfishers.
They looked like the first and only man and woman as they walked in the green light of the ferny halls of the bush, and they 
shone happiness around them as candles shine light. If you follow their tracks even to this day your heart grows fight and 
laughing because you are breathing in some of the happiness 
Captain Taylor and Marama spread around them.
When the tribe found out that Marama was gone they followed after, but when 
Captain Taylor knew they were being followed he dug a new course for the river with his bare hands. Yes - the river which had 
flowed east he turned north, and this so confused the tribe that they quite lost all idea of where they were going or where runaway 
Marama had fled.
You will naturally think that Captain Bartholomew Taylor was a bit of a hero himself, and of course this is true, though I'll tell 
you this. Fifty years later that river went back to its old course, while any river that Tai Taylor shifted did not dare change back 
again. But there - I'm getting ahead of myself once more, because Tai hasn't even been born yet, though he will arrive in the story 
at any moment.
Captain Taylor and Marama married and set up a little house on the new river bank. And here Tai was born. I don't think it can 
have been an ordinary day by any means. Perhaps there were earthquakes and I'm sure the volcanoes all over the country burst 
out like home-made ginger beer. It isn't every day a hero is born and I know the whole country must have had something to say 
about it --- even to the weather.
Tai was born laughing and so he began the way he meant to go on. But apart from this he looked just a usual sort of baby - a bit 
bigger and hungrier than most, I dare say. He looked crinkled and ordinary, with those thin little arms and legs babies have, 
waving in all directions.
However it wasn't long before Tai was sitting up in his cradle and gnawing pork bones, and by the time he was three months old 
there was no stopping him.
Every morning he woke up and stretched himself upwards and sideways, and every morning after that stretch he was a little taller 
and a little wider and a lot stronger.
In fact by the time he was six months he would wrestle a bullock and laugh like a clown, and he had the digestion of a camel. In 
short he was already very much of a hero.
It was just about this time that the tribe heard of where Marama was, and got to understand what had happened to the river. 
Down the river came the tribe, all in their canoes like brown peas in red pods, determined to punish Captain Taylor, and take 
Marama back again. They were in high spirits and full of enthusiasm for the punishment they were planning to inflict on Captain 
Taylor. However they had forgotten that in changing the river round Captain Taylor had put in some unexpected bits of his own – 
places the tribe hadn't dreamed of.
Suddenly, the canoes found themselves toppling over a
waterfall and plunging down a swift, narrow, tossing, swirling
place where you couldn't guide, steer or navigate at all.
 As it happened Marama and Captain Taylor had gone
wandering off on their own to look for paua on the coast. So
the only person at home was Tai Taylor, sitting cheerfully
on the river bank soaking up the sun, because like all growing
things he loved the sun. No sooner did he see the canoes
 plunging past out of control than he dived into the water, laid his right hand on one canoe and his left hand on the other, and 
pulled them safely to shore.
 Well that was the sort of baby Tai Taylor was. You thought twice about it before you smacked Tai.
 At the sight of the tribe bedraggled by spray and trembling at the knees, Tai lay on his back and roared with laughter.
 The tribe just looked at him sourly but nervously.
"Who are you?" said the chief at last.
 "I'm Tai Taylor," Tai replied when he could speak for laughing. "My father is Captain Taylor - salt as bacon, tough as timber; 
but I'm twice as salt and twice as tough, or I will be soon. Half of me's brown and half of me's white - I'm a bit of the best of 
both."
And he looked boldly at the tribe with his big black eyes as he picked up an old ship's anchor, carefully cleaned of its rust, that 
was lying nearby.
"What have you got there?" the tribe asked him cautiously.
"Well it's a ship's anchor," said Tai, "because I'm teething. Somehow my teeth haven't caught up with the rest of me yet, and I've 
got to gnaw on something."
"It's a big thing for a baby to bite on," said one man of the tribe. Tai laughed as he gnawed the anchor and then suddenly he 
stopped and yelled and crunched and then spat out the top of the anchor bitten clean off.
"My tooth," he cried, "I've got my first tooth. Its ruined the anchor though. They don't make anchors strong enough for my 
teething troubles and that's a fact."
Of course by now the tribe realised they were dealing with a hero and there's nothing much you can do about that.
Besides in a way they were starting to be proud of Tai. After all Marama was his mother and that gave them all a share in him.
"Well," said the chief, "if Marama wants to be Mrs Captain Taylor all that much I won't try to stop her. After all it's a bit late 
now."
So when Marama and Captain Taylor came back again from their walk to the coast they found Tai and the tribe very friendly and 
all the past forgiven and forgotten.
So they all had a fish feed of paua and sea eggs and hapuku and octopus and crayfish and swore eternal friendship.
Tai ate the most of anyone, and let me tell you, by the time that feast had ended all his teeth had come up like a row of beans. Ah 
- they don't have heroes like Tai Taylor these days.

Tai Taylor and "The Sweet Annie"
by MARGARET MAHY illustrated by Jill McDonald

HAVE YOU EVER HEARD how Tai Taylor went to England?' It isn't a story that's told very often, so perhaps it hasn't come 
your way yet. It isn't Tai Taylor's going that is so surprising, but the way he got there is amazing to all.
Captain Taylor was very proud of his son, Tai, though he would never have 
said so; and one day he remarked to his
wife, Marama, "My dear, we'll have to take a trip to England. The boy can 
go to school there for a while and learn his
letters. I don't want him to grow up ignorant."
"It seems to me he knows too much already," said Marama.
"That's just it," said Captain Taylor. "Soon he will be old enough and 
big enough and strong enough to think nobody can teach him anything and that won't be any good for him or for us either. 
No, we'll have to educate him now before
he gets away from us, and I know just the teacher for him."
So off to England went Captain Taylor and Marama and Tai, all on board a 
ship called The Sweet Annie. All the tribe
came to see them off and to dance and sing goodbye as the jolly-boat took 
them away from the shore.
At this time Tai was only four years old. He looked like ten, and talked 
like twenty. But as for his strength, there was no measuring that in years any more than you could measure the sea with a 
teaspoon. He could sneeze a bullock over and lace up his boots with the poker and, mind you, he hadn't finished growing yet.
Tai was a light brown in colour, with big black eyes and very dark hair. 
Yet the funny thing was that the sun found a
golden gleam running through that dark hair, as if there was a memory of 
the fair-headed men of Captain Taylor's
England tucked away in it somewhere. It was as if Tai had taken something 
from the brown and from the white and
had made it into something all his own and no one else's.
He looked forward to his trip to England over the bounding sea. The Sweet 
Annie was a sailing ship with big wide
white sails made to catch the wind. Once the wind was caught, the sails 
swelled and the ship flew over the waves,
which was what she liked doing best. Off went The Sweet Annie quite 
happily, but it wasn't very long before they
reached a place where there was no wind at all, and I think it might have 
been the doldrums. I don't know for sure
because I forget where the doldrums are, but I do know there is no wind 
there - wherever they be.

*A jolly-boat is a ship's boat used for rowing ashore or between ships.

And there was no wind here either, so I shall call it the doldrums, anyhow, if only for the fun of writing the 
word. Yes, they came to the doldrums, and The
Sweet Annie sighed and stopped and settled softly into the sea, like a 
tired white bird.
Of course the Captain was distracted. He paced up the quarterdeck and 
down the quarterdeck and all the time he
whistled for the wind until his whistle was so dry he had to wet it. All 
that work and still no wind. Sitting waiting for the
ship to move off again, Tai suddenly sat up and said to his parents: "The ship's unhappy here. I can hear her talking.
She's saying over and over again, 'Where's the wind, the wind, the wind 
to fill my sails? Where's the wind to blow me along?'"
"Don't start talking that way," said Captain Taylor uneasily. "I don't 
want you to grow up to be a confounded poet.
Mind you I feel the same way. Maybe it was me talking to myself you 
heard."
"No, it was the ship," said Tai. "I'm going to see the Captain." And, 
before his father could stop him. Tai climbed to
the quarterdeck, full of an idea he had to help The Sweet Annie on her 
way.
"Captain," said Tai, "listen here, Captain, why don't you let me tow this 
ship along. I need some exercise and the
ship doesn't enjoy sitting around the doldrums."
The Captain laughed until he cried, and then cried until he laughed. He 
was just going to threaten to throw Tai Taylor
down the companionway when he noticed that Tai was carelessly tying knots 
in a marlinspike (whatever that is), or
perhaps it was a belaying pin. Anyway, it was something that showed Tai 
was prodigiously strong, and the Captain
thought that he might let Tai have a go at towing The Sweet Annie.
"It can't do any harm," he decided. So he tied one end of a long bit of rope to the bow of The Sweet Annie, and allowed Tai to 
take the other end and to dive overboard into  the doldrum sea.
And when Tai started to swim, The Sweet Annie went after him, like a 
goose on the end of a string. The Captain
danced with joy on the quarter-deck and off they went through the 
doldrums. After Tai had been swimming for an hour
or so he heard the crew shouting "Shark, shark!" And when he looked out 
of the corner of his eye, there was a shark
swimming beside him and obviously thinking wicked thoughts, as sharks do.
"Come on back, Tai," called the Captain. "You'd better swim quite quickly 
though." But at that moment the shark
took a nip at Tai. The Captain and all the crew shut their eyes, not 
wishing to see blood, but after a while, when they
heard no shrieks, they opened them again. They saw the shark swimming off 
shaking its head as if its ears were
ringing, which they probably were. For each tooth in its head had snapped 
off, such was the toughness of Tai Taylor.
That shark could eat nothing but jellyfish for the rest of its life, 
while Tai went on pulling The Sweet Annie through the
doldrums as if nothing had happened.
After he had been towing the ship for two days, Tai got hungry. So he 
came aboard again and his father, Captain
Taylor, took over, because Captain Taylor was pretty strong too, you may 
remember. Mind you, if sharks came past,
Tai had to dive in and discourage them, which he did by tying them in 
knots (reef knots too, though he'd never been a
boy scout or anything like that).
But in between sharks, Tai ate, and he ate three barrels of salt pork and 
then drank three bottles of ship's lime juice.
Then he had a dozen eggs, a dozen thick slices of bacon, a bunch of bananas and a huge mug of cocoa. 
Then he
had a cat nap of half an hour. After this he was ready to go on for another two days.
So the ship went on through the doldrums. (I think it probably was the doldrums. If it wasn't, it was a piece of sea that looked just 
like the doldrums. You couldn't tell the difference.)
Tai loved swimming, but after a month he got a bit tired of it. Besides, he noticed that his fingers were getting a bit wrinkly at the 
tips. Naturally, he did not care for that, so he signalled he wanted to be pulled out again, back into the ship.
"Captain," said Tai, "there are more ways of killing a cat than by choking it with cream. I'd like to 
try a different way of
moving this ship. Put me in a jolly-boat behind The Sweet Annie and I'll breathe into her sails." The 
Captain agreed,
and let me tell you at once that when Tai breathed into the sails they swelled up like balloons and 
the ship flew up the
coast of Africa like a seagull. It seemed to leap from the crest of one wave to the crest of another 
without sliding down
between them, such was the breathing of Tai Taylor. Never had the journey been so quick. At last a 
true wind came,
rather ashamed of itself for having waited so long and left Tai Taylor to do all the work.
At last Tai was able to rest. The Captain shook his hand and said to Captain Taylor and Marama, "You 
must be proud
to have such a fine big boy."
Captain Bartholomew Taylor wasn't one to boast. "Oh, he's all right," he said, "but wait till he's 
educated. He's only a
rough lad yet, I'm afraid."
So at last they came to England - weeks earlier than they had expected, and as to their adventures in England and Tai's education, 
that's another story. But if 
you are ever
swimming around and see a shark, don't miss the chance to take a look at its teeth. If they are 
pointed and sharp get
away from it quickly, but if they are broken off short, you'll know it is descended from one of those 
that were foolish enough to take a nip at the great Tai Taylor as he towed The Sweet Annie to England.
Ah, they don't have heroes like Tai Taylor nowadays.

The Story of the Winds or Taro Matagi
a folk story from Niue Island told by A. AVISON
illustrated by Mary Ferguson

A MAN was planting taro in the bush. No matter which way he turned, the winds blew dust into his face, and he coughed and his 
eyes watered. He asked the winds to leave him alone so that he could finish his work. The winds continued with their mischief.
Unable to bear it any longer, the man chased the winds. As he caught each wind, he wrapped it in a taro leaf. He
carried the four leaves to a cave and hung them up. He had just finished doing this when his two sons came into the
cave.
"Don't touch these, boys. Always be careful of them," he said.

*Niue is pronounced "new-ay"

He turned and went back to his planting. The two boys continued to play in the cave. One had a thorn with him and,
just before they left the cave, he pricked a small hole in each of the four rolled-up taro leaves. The four winds escaped and rushed 
away over the island.

This story explains why there are always breezes blowing over Niue Island, and why taro matagi (taro of the winds) is so named.
The taro, is a large vegetable that tastes like potato. It has big green leaves. The tuber, which is the part we eat,
grows much bigger than most potatoes.
So many people from the Polynesian Islands have come to live in New Zealand, that many fruit and vegetable shops
now sell taro. They also sell other foods that are grown in the Islands.
You can read about some of these in the next article.

Piri Finds the Treasure 
by RENE M. THOMAS
illustrated by Clare Bowes

PIRI DIDN'T WANT to go to Susan's birthday party. He wanted to go eeling with his brothers instead. 
The day was sunny and warm, just right for lying on the river bank watching for the wriggling dark shapes in the water. Susan 
was Ani's friend, anyhow.
"Aw, Mum," he grumbled, "it's a girl's party I don't have to go, do I?"
His mother kept on rubbing his cheeks with the face-cloth.
"Surely I must be clean now!" thought Piri.
"Some other boys are going too," said his mother. "Mrs Wilson wants you 
to be a mate for Tony, because he's in
your class at school."
"I wish I could go eeling."
"You can go eeling tomorrow, Piri." She was speaking in her 'no-nonsense' 
voice. "There will be a wonderful party tea,
for sure." Piri cheered up a little at the thought of food.
''P'raps there'll be a bun-eating competition," he said hopefully.
"Piri's ready, Ani," called his mother.
She smiled proudly to herself as they set off, two dark heads glossy with 
brushing, two pairs of sturdy legs racing
along the footpath. There were several boys Piri knew at the party. He 
soon forgot about his brothers on the river
bank. Mrs Wilson had arranged some exciting games for the children, and 
the party tea really was wonderful. It was
set out on a table beneath a shady tree.
The children's eyes glistened when they saw all the good things - pink meringues, fruit salad, chocolate walnut cake and, best of 
all, a birthday cake made of ice cream. They set to work, and before long most of the plates were empty.
Then Mrs Wilson said,
"Now children, do you all know what a paper chase is?"
Some knew, and some didn't, so she explained.
"Mr Wilson has a bag full of small pieces of paper, which he will use to 
lay a trail. Now if you follow this trail it will
lead you to the treasure."
The children clapped their hands.
"Where's the trail?" they called out.
Mrs Wilson laughed.
"We must give Mr Wilson time to put it down," she said. "Let's go inside and have a sing-song while we're waiting." Off went 
Mr Wilson 
with his bag of paper. Almost at once the
children wanted to follow him, but Mrs Wilson said that he must have at 
least ten minutes' start. At last she let them
go, and there outside the gate was a trail of small pieces of paper. It 
led towards the hill behind the house.
The children rushed along it, shouting and yelling. At the corner the 
road became a track, disappearing into the bush.
The trail turned left here and continued on along the next road. The 
children raced along that way, but Piri stopped to
gaze up at the hill. He had explored the hill many times with his 
brothers, but had never climbed it from this side. He kept on walking into the bush.
It was cool and quiet under the trees. He could no longer hear the shouts of the other children. The trees met over his head, so 
that he was walking along a green tunnel. When he heard the sound of running water he pushed his way through the ferns until he 
found a stream. The clear water tumbled noisily over large boulders. One of Piri's favourite games was to follow a stream to its 
source, so he climbed up and up,  forgetting all about the paper chase. He remembered the stories his father had told him about 
this hill. Brave 
warriors had once lived in a pa at the top.
Although many other tribes had tried to take the hill, none had succeeded.
After some time he felt thirsty and a little tired. He filled his cupped 
hands with water, splashing it over his face.
The stones under the running water were round and smooth. Piri lifted 
some out to see them more closely. Suddenly
his eyes gleamed. He was holding a piece of stone that was dark green 
like a mountain lake. It was sharpened at the
broad end, narrow at the other. Piri knew at once that it was a 
greenstone adze, a tool used many years before by the people who lived on the hill. Clutching it tightly, he followed the stream 
down to the road.
"Will the others be back yet?" he wondered.
Piri didn't realise that he had been away for a long time. When he arrived at Susan's house he was 
surprised to find
that the birthday party was over. Mrs Wilson met him at the gate, an anxious look on her face.
"Oh Piri," she said, "I'm so glad you're back. I was worried about you."
"I wasn't," smiled Ani. "He knows how to look after himself. But you shouldn't have gone away like 
that; Piri."
Piri felt ashamed. "I'm sorry," he said. "Truly I am, Mrs Wilson. I thought I'd be back just as soon 
as the others."
"They all followed the trail right round the park," said Mrs Wilson, "and it led them back here to 
the treasure.
Everybody found a toy to take home."
Ani showed him her toy stove.
"Oh, Piri!" Mrs Wilson sounded upset. "There's nothing left in the box for you."
"Never mind!" said Piri. "I found my own treasure." He smiled as he held out the beautiful greenstone 
tool. "Thanks for
the party, Mrs Wilson. Come on, Ani! Let's go home and show Dad the treasure I found on the hill. 
Boy! I just bet
he'll be excited when he sees this! It's a real beaut!"
Piri was right. Dad was even more excited than he was!

Petros at Olympia
by MARGARET ANDROU illustrated by Vanya McWilliams

THERE WAS ONCE a small boy named Petros who lived in Greece long ago. He had an animal friend called Pash-a-mou, and 
everywhere he went this animal would follow him.
Petros did not know where Pash-a-mou had come from but he had a feeling it was somewhere quite 
wonderful and
that some day he would have a great adventure.
Pash-a-mou was unlike any other animal in Greece. He did not really look like a horse or a goat or a 
cow. He looked
mostly like a rather ugly little donkey, except for a big dent he had on the top of his head. He, was 
a strange orange
colour and, as everyone knows, donkeys are usually greyish brown
When Petros played with his friends, Pash-a-mou would stand watching, looking sad and lonely. 
Sometimes the
children jeered at him. They laughed whenever he put his head down and they saw the deep hole in the top of his head.
"That's where you put your lunch is it, Petros, when you go out for the day?" said Kino as they were 
going for their lessons one morning. All the children around laughed. Petros turned his back and pretended not to 
hear. Nobody had
ever seen an animal like his before. Even grown up people would laugh.
 "There goes Petros, the shoemaker's son," he heard a man say. "Just look at that funny animal. Who 
would have
such a scruffy beast as that around!"
Petros felt so unhappy. He put his arms round Pash-a-mou's neck and kissed him. "I like you, don't 
worry," he said.
"You are the best animal in the whole of Greece." And, as if he knew just how much Petros loved him, 
Pash-a-mou
butted him gently with his soft furry nose.
After a while Petros began to stop playing with the other boys. Instead he would put a thick 
sheepskin across Pash-a-mou's back and ride him into the country They would walk for many miles. Sometimes they stopped to 
talk to a
goatherd. And often Petros dreamt of the wonderful adventures he would have when he grew up.
One day they shared lunch with some people who were picking olives. It was one of these men who 
pointed at Pash-a-mou and said, "Just look at that huge dent. It's so big you could put a lighted candle in it and see your way to 
bed!"
Everyone roared with laughter. Petros was angry. "It's just like a dimple," he said.
"A very big dimple," replied the man. "What use would that be, except to catch the rain?"
Petros climbed on to Pash-a-mou's back. "Come on, we won't stay here," he said, and rode away 
feeling angry and
sad at the same time. Nobody, it seemed, wanted to be kind to his friend.
In the village everyone was talking about the games contest
which was to be held at Olympia, a village far away. Petros had never been to one of these contests 
and he was very keen to go.
However, when he asked his parents they both said, "No." His father said he was far too young. "It is 
too far for you to
walk, little one," said his mother, "and we are too poor to pay for a ride."
"And it is time you stopped riding round on that queer animal," said his father. "People are laughing 
at us for feeding
such a beast. Even your friends think it's silly. If you are so keen on sport, you should spend more 
time training. Then
we'll see if you're good enough to go to the games."
Petros said nothing, but he thought for a long time. Then he made his plan. "We will go to the games 
together," he
whispered to Pash-a-mou. "We can watch all the athletes from Greece running and jumping and doing 
gymnastics."
 The day before the games were to be held, Petros packed some food. He took a blanket and made a 
bundle which
he could tie on the front of his sheepskin. Then he climbed on to Pash-a-mou's back and they left the 
house before
anyone was awake.
Sometimes they trotted along quickly and at other times Petros walked to give Pash-a-mou a rest. They 
both felt very
happy. The further they went the happier Petros felt.
"The boys back home will envy me," he thought. They couldn't go to the games as it was too far to 
walk. It was the
secret dream of all the boys in his village to go to the games, but the people there were far too 
poor to be able to pay
for a cart or the horses that pulled them.
On the way they saw many people who were also going to Olympia. Most of them passed him quickly and 
did not
speak, but once a man called out and asked him where he was off to.
"We are going to Olympia," he replied, "to see the games."
"You'll never be allowed to take that funny-looking animal in there," shouted the man. "You'd do better to leave him behind."
Petros patted Pash-a-mou. "Don't worry," he told him. "I'll see that you get in to see the sports."
On they went, and on and on. Sometimes they sat at the side of the road and watched the crowds as they passed.
Most of these people stared at Pash-a-mou and laughed. Petros began to wonder if he would be allowed to take him after all. 
Would there be soldiers at the gates to stop them?
They walked on until at last, feeling very tired and lonely, they reached 
the village of Olympia. It was full of people
bustling about, finding somewhere to sleep for the night. People were camping far out across the fields. There were
tents and little fires for cooking with groups of people sitting round 
them. Petros felt frightened. What would he do and
where would they go?
As if knowing what he wanted, Pash-a-mou led him to a sheltered spot 
between two orange trees and there they
stayed for the night. Petros rolled himself up in the blanket, after eating 
some of the food he had brought.
When they woke up in the morning there were hundreds of people sitting 
round on the grass. Some were moving
about, packing their tents up, getting ready to go to their seats.
Along one side of the field there was a row of beautiful chariots with 
servants attending to the horses. Petros had
never seen so many wonderful things before, nor people dressed as they did 
in the city of Athens. The women wore
long white dresses with real gold belts. Round their necks they had gold or 
silver necklets. Some of them had three or
four heavy bracelets on their arms from the wrist to the elbow. There were 
servants hurrying here and there. Others
were running round at the men's bidding. Petros stood staring at these men, 
for they too wore gold. Some of them
had bracelets and belts of gold, and even gold-laced sandals.
What a wonderful sight it was! It was like a dream.
After a while the people moved off towards the arena where the sports would 
be held. Petros ate the last of his food,
then took his comb and tidied his black hair. He brushed Pash-a-mou down 
with some rough grass and rubbed his
hooves until they shone.
More people hurried through the gates.
"Come on, Pash-a-mou," said Petros. "It's time to go."
But when they tried to go through the gates everyone pushed them back, 
saying:
"No, boy. No animals allowed through here." 
"Take him away."
"Tie it up," said one man. "All the horses are tied up." And a big man came in 
front and shouted: "Take that creature away
at once! I am in charge here. Go away, little boy."
"What an ugly-looking thing," muttered a woman. A boy who stood beside 
her started laughing.
Petros put his arm round Pash-a-mou's neck and led him away.
"Come on," he said, "I wouldn't go in without you."
But Pash-a-mou tried to make him go. He put his head down and pushed at 
him gently.
Petros did not know what to do but he was determined not to go home.
"At least we can sit here on the grass outside and wait for the start. 
We may even see the torch runner come in and
we can watch the flame burning. It is better than nothing."
He turned his face so nobody would see the tears running down his face. 
Pash-a-mou seemed to know what had
happened. He hung his head low so that you could see into the deep, furry 
hole on his head.
Soon all the seats were taken and the people were chatting loudly in 
excitement. They were waiting for the torch
runner to come so that the flame could be lit and the games begin.
Suddenly Petros shouted: "Look! Here he comes!"
He sat up and wiped his face. Everyone started cheering the runner.
He was a big man called Meno. He carried the torch proudly, high in the air. It burned with a bright 
yellow flame.
Petros cheered.
"Hurray, hurray!" How he wished he could be that runner!
But ... just as Meno had passed Petros and was through the gates, he tripped and fell. The torch 
rolled away over the
ground and burned so low that it looked as if it would go out.
"Oh!" Petros cried. "I must help him quickly."
He ran to Meno, who said: "No; leave me. The torch! It must not go out or the games will be ruined!"
Petros ran to the torch and picked it up. It burned so low that it nearly went out. He blew on it 
gently and stood very
still until the flame went higher and higher.
The people could see what was happening and the officials were running from the front seats which 
were a long way
off.
Meno seemed to have hurt his ankle. He tried to stand on it but cried out in pain.
"Here, climb on to Pash-a-mou's back," said Petros. "He will carry you into the arena."
"Thank you, thank you," said Meno as he gratefully climbed on to the sheepskin. He put out his hand 
for the torch,
but pulled it back.
"I can't hold it. I cannot ride; how will I stay on? I must not fall or I'll lose my job. The humiliation would be awful."
Petros had an idea.
"Let's put the torch in Pash-a-mou's dimple." He placed it gently between the animal's ears. Then, 
with one arm round
his neck and the other holding the torch steady, he led Pash-a-mou to the front of the crowd.
The people who had been murmuring with anger before, now stood up and cheered. The officials looked 
surprised but
soon smiled. Meno, although he was in great pain, managed a brave smile. Petros had never been so 
proud in his life.
They walked up to the huge copper bowl and waited while Meno limped forward and lit the flame. Then 
some very
important men came up and said:
"You must sit over here where you can see all the sports. Thank you for saving our torch."
Another man stepped forward and whispered to the others.
"Let's do that. Yes, what a good idea!"
"Before you sit down we wish to present you and your friend with something to keep always."
Petros trembled with excitement. No one was laughing at Pash-a-mou now. One of the men went away and 
when he
came back he held two olive wreaths for their heads. What an honour! Only the winners of the games were given these.
Everyone cheered again when they saw the wreaths placed on their heads.
Then they sat with Meno and all the important men in the front row to watch 
the sports. How proud they felt and how
well they could see everything!
"What do you think Mother and Father would say?" Petros whispered to 
Pash-a-mou. "If we did not have these
wreaths to show, they would not believe it."
When the games were all over, one of the men said:
"You must ride in one of our chariots. We will take you to your village."
Everyone, stood and waited while they went out first. Some people even 
stretched out their hands to pat Pash-a-mou.
"What soft fur! How handsome he is!" Petros heard one woman say.
"Oh, he is valuable," said a man. "There is only one of his kind in the 
whole of Greece."
When they came to the village, Petros saw many people gathered in the 
square. There were his parents, wiping their
eyes with large handkerchiefs. His friends stood together with big grins on 
their faces. They looked a bit ashamed
too.
" Petros," said his mother. "You are naughty to run away. But you are a 
good son too." Then she kissed him.
"You saved the games," said his father. "We are proud of you."
The important men had sent a messenger ahead to tell the story to the 
village. The mayor was there in front of the
crowd to make a speech of welcome.
"Petros, on this great day we welcome you back to our village. You are a 
true son of Greece. You and Pash-a-mou
will live in our hearts forever."
Then he kissed him on both cheeks and patted Pash-a-mou. Afterwards they all went under the shade of 
some olive
trees and sat at tables for a party. The children ran round, calling out:
"Have you ever ridden Pash-a-mou? Come and pat him. Feel how soft he is!"
"This is the happiest day of my life," thought Petros.
And Pash-a-mou swished his tail gently and closed his eyes with pleasure.

Stumpy
by GRACE RICHARDS
illustrated by EILEEN MAYO

On MY HAND sits a little green lizard, staring at me with unblinking, brown eyes. Now and then she 
opens her big
mouth, and a purple tongue curls out and delicately moistens her lidless eyes.
She's my green tree gecko, and I call her Stumpy. That's not a pretty name but it suits her, because 
the end of her
tail is missing. Her mate has a beautiful tail, long and tapered, and he often sits with it curled up 
like a watch spring.
Her mate is very handsome, but he's not as friendly as Stumpy. He tries to run away when I take him out of his cage. But Stumpy 
sits so quietly, flattening herself against the warmth of my hand, and she never tries to bite me, as her mate does when he's 
feeling bad-tempered.
We live in Southland, and had never seen a green tree gecko until Stumpy and her mate arrived from 
the North Island.
A friend sent them to us by plane, and I was at the airport to meet them. They don't often have 
lizards as
passengers, so when I eagerly asked the pilot: "Have you got some lizards for me?" he laughed as he 
handed them
over.
I didn't know what kind of lizards my friend was sending, skinks or geckos, so I hurried home and took the lid off their box, 
really excited. When I saw the bright green geckos curled in the bottom of the box I 
could hardly believe
they were  real. They were like living, emerald jewels.
We decided we would keep them in the empty aquarium we once kept goldfish in. We put a layer of sand 
and small
stones in the bottom, and arranged green branches in jars filled with wet sand, and put them in the 
cage. Then we
took the pink plastic bath out of the dolls' house and filled it with water, and that was their 
drinking trough. We mixed honey and water in a small flat jar and popped that in the cage. They like the sweetened water. They 
often stand
beside it, licking it up with their long tongues.
If they had been ground geckos instead of tree geckos, we would have arranged large flat stones for 
them to crawl
under during the day. But Stumpy and her mate don't want to crawl under stones; they prefer to lie on 
the green
branches where they are so well camouflaged that it's often hard to see them.
Of course, once little creatures are put in a cage they must be looked after. The biggest job we have 
with Stumpy and
her mate is catching live flies and moths for them to eat, because lizards won't eat dead meat, like 
chopped liver or
mince. They only eat their meat alive and moving.
We've found the best way to catch flies is to go out into the garden with a transparent plastic jar 
and a piece of
cardboard. We move very, very slowly, so that the flies won't take fright, and gently cover them with 
the jar. Then we
slip the cardboard underneath and take the fly prisoner.
The lid of the cage has a small sliding door in it, so we slide this back and up-end our jar over it, 
and the fly buzzes
into the cage.
We catch moths the same way, but they are caught after dark. If we leave the kitchen light on at 
night the moths fly
to the window, and we creep up and capture them under the jar.
Stumpy sees the flies and moths flying in her cage, and she moves slowly and cautiously towards them. 
When she's
close enough to strike, out flicks her long purple tongue from her little dragon head, and her victim 
lies caught in her
grinning jaws. She swallows it slowly, in gulps.
It's easy to find food for my geckos in the warm weather, but in Southland the winters are long and 
cold, with few
moths or flies in sight. I go out to the compost heap looking for flies, but sometimes weeks go by 
without my
catching one.
However, geckos can survive a hungry spell better than skinks can. They grow fat in the warm weather when food is plentiful, 
and their tails thicken until they are almost as thick as their bodies;
when a lean time comes they live on their stored body fat.
Every now and then, Stumpy's colour grows a dull bluish-green, and I know that she is about to shed her skin. Tiny air bubbles 
appear under it; then one day it starts to peel off, starting at her head.
She rubs against the stones and branches in her cage and loosens her top skin until it all peels off, white and papery. It hangs on 
the branch where she left it, like washing hung on the bushes to dry; and it's her exact shape, toes and all. The new skin which 
was underneath looks as fresh and bright as grass with the dew on it.
Sometimes I put Stumpy on the lawn and she basks in the sun, but I daren't take my eyes off her, as she is so well camouflaged 
that I would find it hard to see her again. When she runs across the grass she goes quickly, and with a wobble in her middle, as if 
she were hinged.
I hope that she will have babies. Geckos in other parts of the world lay eggs, but New Zealand ones give birth to tiny perfect 
geckos that are able to run as soon as they are born.
I'll be running too, if Stumpy has babies, rushing to find grubs and insects small enough for them to eat, because baby 
geckos are, like all other babies, always hungry and looking for food.

Pasikole and the Goddesses
A Tongan folk story 
by JOHN BARNETT
illustrated by SUE WILKIE

MANY YEARS AGO in Tonga there lived a man called Pasikole.  He was a prisoner of two goddesses who made him work very 
hard for them. Because of this, Pasikole spent much of his time thinking up ways to escape.
One day the two goddesses decided to go on a journey. Cunning Pasikole suggested that he carry them in two large baskets, one 
at each end of a long pole which he placed across his shoulders.
Once in the baskets, the goddesses could see nothing but the sky. Pasikole 
walked and walked until he reached a
mountain, and there he hung the pole, with the two heavy baskets, on a big 
tree. Then he ran away.
As they could see nothing but the moving clouds, the goddesses thought that 
they were still being carried by
Pasikole. But after two years the baskets rotted away, and the goddesses 
fell through to the ground; then they knew
that Pasikole had run away, and they set out to find him.
In no time they found and caught Pasikole, and made him their slave once 
more. Again he tried to think of some way by which to trick them and escape.
One day he asked the two goddesses to go net-fishing with him, so that they could see what a clever fisherman he was. As he 
made the canoe ready, he hid some garlands of flowers and some big rocks under the net in the stern.

*Pronounced pass-i-ko-le

Then he called the goddesses and they set off.
Pasikole sat in the stern of the canoe and covered himself with the garlands of flowers. The goddesses did not see this because 
they were sitting with their backs to him. After they had paddled for a long, long while, Pasikole told them to stop the canoe 
while he dived to see if there were any fish. When he came up to the surface for air, he hid under the stern of the canoe. The 
goddesses could not see him, and he stayed there for a long time.
He dived again, silently, and came up as if he had been under the water all that time. He climbed into the canoe and the 
goddesses were surprised to see the garlands that he wore. They asked where he had got them, and Pasikole replied, "I have been 
down to the bottom of the sea. There were many people holding a great feast there. They were pleased to see me and covered me 
with flowers. I only came back so quickly bcause I thought that you would want to go to the feast too."
The goddesses were excited at the thought of the feast, but how could they go? They did not know how to dive.
Pasikole told them to climb into his net and he would lower them down. They got in. Pasikole tied some big stones to
the net and pushed it into the sea. It sank to the bottom with the goddesses, and Pasikole returned to Tonga, a free man.
Sometimes, on a dark night, you can see shining patches deep in the sea. These patches are the goddesses struggling and trying to 
rise to the surface.

Tai Taylor and his Education
by MARGARET MAHY
illustrated by JILL MCDONALD

WELL, YOU'VE HEARD of Tai Taylor, haven't you? Tai Taylor born in the gay 
days of the world under a strong star - but have you heard how he went to school?
Captain Bartholomew Taylor, that roaring sealion of a man, was quick to 
realise that you couldn't send a boy like Tai
to any ordinary school. Just think: Tai could pick up a teacher and write 
on the blackboard with him; he could press a
headmaster like a wild flower and put him in a nature study book. You need 
an extraordinary teacher for a pupil like
Tai Taylor. Fortunately Captain Taylor knew just the man. He took Tai to the foot of the hill and pointed to a light almost at the 
top of it.
"Up there," he said, "there where the light is, that's where the Mocker lives."
"Who's the Mocker?" Tai asked.
"The Mocker!" said Captain Taylor. "Why, he's someone everyone knows 
nothing about, and certainly no one ever
mentions him - but there he is all the same. I can't tell you if he's a 
hermit or a magician, a horse-thief, a goatherd, or
just a teller of tales. But I suspect he's all of those things and a teacher as well - if he had anyone worth teaching. And that's 
where you 
come in, my boy, for you must convince the
Mocker that you are the sort of pupil a Mocker would enjoy having. And, 
as for you - well, there never was a hero who did not profit from a bit of learning. No, I won't come with you, for to tell the truth 
the Mocker gives me a creepy feeling down my spine."
Now, although Tai was so young, he was braver than lions and eagles and 
stronger than grizzly bears, so he marched
up the hill to the Mocker's cave.
There was no door, only a curtain of sheepskin hung over the cave mouth. 
Tai knocked at a rock and marched in. The
cave was full of mist, white as milk, and Tai couldn't see anything. He 
stood and waited patiently. Sure enough, after
a minute the mist thinned and slid away, and there stood an old yellow 
goat. Tai nodded politely to it.
"What do you want?" asked the goat rudely.
Tai was surprised but a mere surprise never hurt a hero yet.
"I'm looking for the Mocker. Could you tell me where he is, please?"
The goat's head melted and changed before Tai's eyes to the head of a 
yellow old man with a thin beard and piercing
eyes. There wasn't much difference really.
"I'm the Mocker," it said, smiling a thin smile.
Tai felt puzzled but decided the best thing to do was to go ahead and 
explain what he had come for, which he did in
his brief way.
"Someone told me you were wise and might be a good teacher for me. I 
wondered if you would like to try."
The head smiled a little to itself. "I only educate heroes and poets. 
Which are you?"
"I want to find out," Tai said. "That's why I came to you - simply to be 
educated and to find out."
The goat shivered and shook itself and turned into a terrible old man, his skin stretching itself tightly to cover his bones, yellow 
as a banana but all wrinkled, as if Time had finished with him, and had screwed him up and tossed him to one side.
"Soup!" he said. "We'll begin with soup. I judge people at dinner time. 
I've got a little meal cooking itself at the
moment - ready to serve itself when I give the word. But I warn you, it's 
a challenge and things aren't what they seem."
The one thing Tai was certain of was his appetite and he felt very hungry 
at this moment.
"I'd be very glad to stay for dinner," said Tai politely.
They sat down at a table he hadn't noticed before. There were two places 
laid and two plates of soup, not much, but
thick and meaty, what there was of it. Tai couldn't help thinking that if 
the Mocker knew what he had to deal with, he
would have given much larger helpings. So he picked up his spoon and 
polished off his share in next to no time. The
soup must have been even thicker than it looked because he was less 
hungry already.
The next course was fish, and Tai was given a small baked fish. He set 
himself to squeeze lemon and sprinkle salt,
and began to eat the fish. However, when he was two thirds of the way  
through, a curious feeling came over him. At
first he wondered if he had been given poison, but he knew at once that 
it wasn't that at all. It was just that he was
getting full, something that very rarely happened to Tai. Yes - after a 
little bowl of soup and almost all of a small fish - Tai was beginning to feel full. He glanced uneasily at the Mocker. But that 
parchment-coloured old man merely grinned at his own plate and ate faster.
The next course was roast beef with potatoes, peas, pumpkin, onions and Yorkshire pudding. Usually Tai would have been 
delighted, but now he found himself wondering if he could possibly eat it all. He watched the old Mocker sprinkling pepper and 
felt quite bewitched. He picked up his knife and fork slowly and began. Eating steadily on, Tai felt himself bulging in all 
directions, and by the time he was half way through he felt sure he would burst. However, he was determined not to offend the 
terrible Mocker, determined not to let that little wrinkled man beat him. So at last his plate was clean and gleaming, even though 
his bones felt as if they were being pulled apart. Deep in the Mocker's eye Tai saw a glittering and a dancing. He knew the 
Mocker was laughing at him and waiting for him to give in. Then Tai's
heroic blood boiled with anger and beat in his ears like drums, and he determined he wouldn't let 
this shrivelled wizard
have the last laugh.
"Very tasty," said Tai Taylor, "but where's the pudding?" He felt as heavy as lead but he made his 
words as light as
feathers or primroses.
There before him was a huge helping of tottering sherry and cake trifle, with fruit, cherries, nuts, 
ginger and cream.
Trying to look really delighted, he picked up a shiny spoon. He saw himself reflected very fat in 
that spoon and
wondered if he really looked like that. He felt even worse.
"I just can't go on," he thought to himself and looked furtively at the Mocker. But when his eyes met 
those wicked
yellow eyes, he saw that they had stopped laughing. So he ploughed on into the trifle and ate his way 
to the end.
Then he put down his spoon, and said honestly, "Well, I've eaten my fill."
The Mocker looked at him thoughtfully. "You're the heroic sort," he said at last, "and if ever there was a heroic eater it's yourself. 
You're full now, but 
don't let it upset you, for
things in this world are not what they seem. This is more true than ever in the case of the Mocker, 
where a lot can
seem like a little, or a little like a lot. You thought you ate a plateful of soup but it was in fact 
a cauldron full. You
thought you ate a small fish but in fact you ate a school of salmon. You thought you ate meat and 
vegetables and so
you did, but you ate a whole bullock and sacks  of potatoes, onions and peas. The Yorkshire pudding 
was a yard
square, and the trifle was the biggest in the world, yet you brought it low.
"There's nothing that shows up a hero like his appetite and yours is truly magnificent. I will be 
delighted to teach you
anything you may wish to learn, as well as extras, and turn you into a good, all-round hero, ready 
for anything." And,
saying this, the Mocker chuckled. At least Tai supposed it was a chuckle. It sounded more like the 
bleat of a goat.
 I can't describe to you all that the Mocker taught Tai over the next two years, for it would take two 
years just to tell it.
There were reading and writing things, of course, and spelling and arithmetic. But there were also 
lessons in star-gazing, tale-spinning, shape-shifting, fire-fighting, bell-ringing, surf-casting, horse-riding, rose-growing, weight-
lifting and all the ding dong dang of magic. Tai enjoyed his learning because it was all mixed up with fresh air and laughter and 
large, nourishing meals - though none as large as the first meal he had eaten at the Mocker's cave. 
Sometimes, forfun, they changed the cave into something else - a castle, a cabin, a grass hut, an igloo or 
Aladdin's Treasure cavern,
just as you might see it in a pantomime.
All this time the Mocker did not leave his cave, and Tai did not leave it either. But at the end of 
two years the Mocker
said, "I'm off to visit my father and it will be part of your education, Tai Taylor, to defend my 
cave, for word gets round
when I go out, and my enemies come to steal."
"I'll look after your cave," Tai promised. "No one but you yourself, as you are now, shall set foot 
in it."
"Good!" said the Mocker. "I'll just cut myself a slice of cheese and be off, or my father will think I'm not coming." And off he 
went.
To be continued.

The Drum
by PAT WHITE, illustrated by ANDREW DODDS

IT WAS A VERY HOT DAY. Outside you could hear the steady sound of the 
traffic, like the distant breaking of waves
on a sandy beach. Henry's hands felt hot and sticky. The orange drink Mum 
had bought had left a faint stain round
his mouth, and his hair had begun to fall forward into his eyes.
He stood by the little pool at the entrance to the museum. He was going to 
wait for his mother to take him home
when she had finished her shopping. He liked the museum, which was filled 
with the sort of things he wanted to look
at. The little pool was one of these. Above it, someone had placed the 
carved stone head of a lion, and the pool was
filled by the constant flow of water from the lion's mouth. He held out his hand and felt the water flow smoothly over it, taking 
all the hot 
stickiness away; then he climbed the stone
steps which led to the museum.
Inside it was cool and quiet. After the bright sunshine it seemed very 
dark, and Henry could not see where he was
going. And that was how he came upon the drum and the ugly little wooden 
god with his strange, strange face.
It was a part of the museum that he had never seen before. There were big 
wooden shields on the walls, painted in
different colours. There were long necklaces of shells and sharks' teeth, 
and spears and axes with sharp-looking
edges, but they were all inside glass cases so that he couldn't touch them.
But something was not in a case, and he could touch it. It was a drum. 
But it was not the sort of drum the bandsmen
carry when they march through the city. This looked at first like the 
stump of a tree with a deep hole in it. The wood
was blackish-brown in colour and at the top there was a face. It was a 
strange face with large slanting eyes, and a
nose like the beak of a bird, and a mouth with a little one-sided smile 
to it. The face looked as though it had been listening to secrets for a very long time.
Henry knew that this was a god's face, an old god who had lived thousands 
of years ago and who had now come to
rest in the museum. Henry wondered how long ago it was since people had 
dared to make drum music on it.
He wanted to make loud booming noises come out of it. What would happen 
if he did? His hands stole out as though
someone else was moving them. His heart beat faster as he stretched them 
towards the drum and pounded it. Boom,
boom, boom! Slowly, the sound seemed to fill the whole museum. A faint 
trickle of dust hung in the air like a little
misty curtain, then all was quiet again. Henry waited. Surely someone would come along and say, "You are not allowed to do 
that; stop it at once." But nobody came.
This time he beat harder on the drum. Boom, boom, boom, boom! A little more dust floated down and 
settled softly on
the ugly carved face of the god.
Henry turned to blow the dust away, but stopped suddenly. Could he really have seen the god's eyes 
move? Then
from somewhere out of the middle of the god came a dry and dusty voice which said, "What do you want 
little boy?"
Henry could not speak. He could only stare in surprise at the strange dark face.
"Do not be afraid," said the god. "You have beaten the drum nine times on the ninth day of the ninth 
month, and my
strong magic has begun to work. Tell me, boy, what do you want?"
Now there are probably many, many things that you would have asked for straight away. But this was a very hot day, Henry was 
tired, and still a little frightened of the strange god, so he said, "Do you think that they would let me come here and beat the 
drum, whenever I like, for as long as I like?"
"Certainly," said the god. "It shall be done. When you walk up to the drum say:
'Drum, drum, your hollow beat Echoes loudly in the street, But in this place 'twill only be Heard by 
you, yourself and
me.'
"That is a magic spell which will make you the only one in the place who can hear the special music. 
Do not tell
anyone else.
'This is a secret Which should be
Kept between two, Just you and me.'"
 Now Henry had heard the first rhyme and thought that he could never forget it. But when the god had 
ended his
rhyme about the secret, he got rather muddled. This is how he thought the rhyme went:  "Drum, drum, 
your hollow
beat  Echoes loudly in the street;  This is a secret which should be  Kept between you, yourself and 
me."
Without any warning at all the drum began to boom, boom, boom, louder and louder. The director of the 
museum
rushed in, and so did all the other people who worked there.
"What has happened?" they cried. "Who is making this noise?" Out in the street the noise was deafening, and nobody seemed to 
know what to do about it.
Poor Henry wanted to run away. There was so much noise that he couldn't 
think. If all the people went away and stopped talking, something could be done about it. He could say the spell again.
"My goodness," said the director. "The noise is deafening. It's bad enough 
when the bells in the bell tower go out of
tune, but I've never heard anything like this. I have such a bad headache 
that I'm going home. And tomorrow we'll get
rid of whatever it is that is making the noise."
So they all went home. They hung a notice on the museum door:
CLOSED UNTIL WE FIND OUT
WHERE THE NOISE IS COMING
FROM.
And Henry was the only one left in the museum.
The voice of the god could be heard again, and very cross it sounded. "You 
certainly made a mess of that spell, boy.
Say it again, quickly."
This time Henry said:
"Drum, drum, your hollow beat Echoes loudly in the street, But in this 
place 'twill only be A secret kept by you and
me."
"Wrong again," said the, god angrily.
The music of the drum had sunk to a whisper, but a very loud whisper which could be heard throughout the museum.
There were footsteps in the distance. The director had come back to lock 
the side door.
"Quickly, Henry," said the god, "think hard, and say it at once."
Henry could hardly speak he was so frightened, but in a great rush he 
said:
"Drum, drum, your hollow beat Echoes loudly in the street, But in this 
place 'twill only be Heard by you, yourself and
me."
The noise stopped. The little god smiled, and Henry rushed out of the 
side door, just in time.
His mother was waiting outside.
"Oh there you are," she said. "It's the last time that you go to the 
museum, my boy. Why didn't you wait for me by the lion, as I told you to?"
He hasn't gone back since. He's waiting until the ninth day of the ninth 
month comes round again. Then he will fill the
museum with the strange wild music of the drum once more.

Piri Saves the Day
by RENE M. THOMAS, illustrated by CLARE BOWES

THE DAY OF THE CONCERT arrived at last. The children were very excited about it. They had been practising for weeks, and 
now they were ready to show what they could do.
Piri rushed in and out with chairs and mats, getting in the way sometimes, but eager to help. He was more excited than anyone. 
He loved concerts. He was disappointed that he hadn't been asked to sing, but it would still be fun to listen.
The doors between the two largest rooms in the school had been folded back, and rows of chairs were waiting for the visitors. 
The concert was being held on a Saturday, so the fathers could come as well as the mothers. Piri's eyes shone as he listened to the 
clatter of feet running and voices shouting.
"Are Mum and Dad here yet?"
Rua, his sister, was standing beside him, looking worried. Rua had been asked to sing by herself. Piri felt proud of her. She had 
been practising "Strawberry Fair", one of the school songs. 
Hemi said they would all be sick of that song before the concert was held, but then Hemi often teased his sisters.
"Yes," replied Piri. "They're waiting out in the playground."
"Oh, Piri," said Rua, her voice trembling, "I'm so scared. D'you think the people will like my song?"
"You bet they will!" Piri flashed her his cheerful smile. "You're the best singer in the school. I'll clap my hardest for you."
"You're a pal," said Rua. "I think I'll go and brush my hair."
Piri was amazed. "You brushed it before breakfast," he said. Rua laughed and ran off to the washroom.
" Into the classroom, Piri," said teacher, hurrying past. "It's almost time to begin."
Piri's seat was near the window. By stretching up a little he could see the grown-ups filing in through the door. One of the older 
boys stood there with a box for the money which would be used to build a swimming pool in the playground.
Piri hoped the grown-ups would give lots of money. He loved swimming.
Then he saw his mother and father.
"Hi!"he shouted. The children laughed. They expected teacher to be cross with Piri, but she wasn't because this was a special 
day. When the last grown-up had been settled in a chair, the children were brought in to sit on mats.
What a jostling and giggling went on, as they crowded together to make room for everyone. Piri was right in front, close to the 
platform.
"Boy, this is a good place," he said to the boy next to him.
The headmaster stood up to welcome the parents, and then the concert began. The first item was a song by the whole school. Piri 
sang every word in his best voice. Next, there was a ballet number, by some girls in pink dresses, with flowers in their hair. One 
of the older boys sang about birds and 
butterflies. Piri liked that, but he was waiting to
hear his sister sing.
Then the standard children acted a play about knights and princesses. 
Piri didn't understand it very well, but he
enjoyed the way the actors marched across the platform. The best part was 
a mock fight with lances.
At last it was Rua's turn to sing. She walked shyly on to the platform 
and stood with her hands behind her back, as
she had been told. But her eyes were looking down at the floor. Piri 
nudged the boy next to him.
"My sister!" he said proudly. Then he waited for "Strawberry Fair". But 
Rua kept her eyes cast down. Piri saw the
teacher was waving at her in a worried manner, but still no sound came 
from Rua's trembling mouth. The mothers and
fathers waited quietly to hear her. Some of the children giggled unkindly.
"She's scared," thought Piri unhappily. "She's too scared to sing."
There was another moment of dreadful silence. Rua swallowed. Her mouth 
opened and shut again. Tears came rolling
down her cheeks. Piri saw teacher beckoning her to leave the platform.
"Oh, no!" whispered Piri. "She must sing! I wish I could help her."
He squeezed his eyes tight shut and tried to remember "Strawberry Fair". 
Dozens of other songs floated round in his head, but he couldn't remember one word of "Strawberry Fair". He thought about the 
songs his father had taught him, and suddenly 
he knew what he must do.
Softly at first, then, as Rua looked at him, a little louder, he began 
singing "Karu, Karu", the Maori fishing song. When
he came to the third line he heard Hemi, who was sitting behind him, join 
in the song. A moment later Ani's voice was
heard across the room. Rua looked surprised, then she smiled at Piri, 
wiped her eyes and held her head high.
"Karu karu, ka te i au e," sang Rua.
By the time the third verse was reached every Maori child in the room was 
singing with her. But Rua's voice rose
sweeter and higher than all the others:
"Karu karu, karu karu, ka te i au e."
The last note died away, and there was a burst of handclapping as Rua ran off the platform. Teacher was smiling now, too.
"Well done, Piri!" she whispered as she passed him. Piri felt very happy indeed.
"Perhaps they'll let me sing in the next concert, now," he thought contentedly.

Tai Taylor and his Education [2]
by MARGARET MAHY
illustrated by Jill McDonald

TAI WAS LEFT STUDYING at his books. He was studying wine-tasting and lawn-mowing at this stage. He read one book with 
his right eye and another with his left, as only a hero can. Just as he was getting to a dull part in the wine-tasting book and an 
exciting part in the lawn-mowing book (how to deal with cut-off fingers), there came a long low roar at the mouth of the cave - a 
roar which would have curdled the blood of anyone but a hero.
When Tai went to the cave mouth there was a lion, large and yellow, swishing its tall and baring its 
teeth and springing at Tai Taylor. Tai was not much scared of the lion, even though
it had its claws out. It turned out to be remarkably strong for a lion, 
however, and attacked furiously. Of course Tai
conquered it. Then, before allowing it to limp away, he clipped a curl from 
its mane and put it to one side.
Tai went back to his books, but he had barely read two new pages before 
there came a furious bellowing, and a huge
shadow fell over him. Looking up impatiently, Tai saw a giant standing 
right in the doorway. He was a remarkably
ugly, angry giant, with a horse's tail dangling behind him. He seemed 
anxious to fight. Well, Tai wasn't the sort of hero to hesitate about a fight. He wasn't as tall as the giant, but that's a mere detail to 
a hero. They wrestled for a while, knocking over a few trees and making the rocks ring like a chime of  bells. But the giant 
started to lose, and in a very cowardly fashion he changed himself into a fire. But Tai recalled 
his shape-shifting lessons and turned himself
into a bucket of water.
Then the giant turned himself into a tiger, but Tai turned himself into an 
elephant. Then the giant turned himself into an
eagle, and Tai turned himself into a man with a bow and arrow.
He shot the eagle through the wing. A feather fluttered down to land at 
Tai's feet, while the eagle flopped down, hitting
the ground with a crash. A moment later, Tai saw the giant tearing off down 
the hill, holding his arm before him as if it
hurt. Tai picked up the feather and put it beside the lion's curl.
He sat down again. He was a bit tired by now. Even heroes must catnap 
occasionally. While he slept a villain slid into
the cave and stole the Mocker's great silver cup, which sat smokily over 
the fire-place. Off he went, that thief, and an
hour later - a full hour later - Tai yawned and turned over and woke up. He 
knew at once that something was missing,
and he knew at once that it was the silver cup. Many a man would have 
wasted time raving and cursing and
carrying-on, but not Tai Taylor. Tai merely stepped to the mouth of the cave 
and sprinkled corn on the sand, while he
recited the following strange lines:
"Word fly after the wind, Wind fly after the bird, Bird fly after the corn, 
And may the cup follow you."
This is a spell for finding lost things. The next moment, with a clang 
and a clash, a bird with wings of brass flew out of
the east and behind it, caught by the spell, rolled the thief, still 
clasping the cup in his paws. The bird began to eat
the corn, but Tai did not notice this. He was too busy staring at the 
thief, who was a dragon - a middle-sized, scaly
dragon, looking quite unpleasant. Tai felt a bit sour at the thought of 
dealing with a dragon. He seemed to have done
more than his fair share of fighting that day. Still, he had promised the 
Mocker that he would protect the cave and all
that was in it, and that was what he was bound to do.
So, with a loud war cry, Tai leaped at the dragon and they wrestled all 
over the hill. It was a furious fight. The eastern mountains were pushed sideways to the south; whole forests were swept away in 
the struggle, as Tai Taylor and the dragon discussed who was the stronger. But at last the dragon gave a cry so sad you would 
weep to hear it, and flew up into the air, dropping the cup as it flew.
Tai Taylor leaped up after it and caught it by the tail. He twisted this tail into a knot. "That's to remind you not to steal said Tai, 
and just for his own private 
reason, as it were, he stole a silver scale from
the dragon's very cheek, just under the dragon's eye. Then he set it free 
to fly over the hill.
After this there were no more thieving visitors. Tai read his books and fed 
the fire at the back of the cave with logs of
wood until, in the late evening, the Mocker came home.
"How was your father?" asked Tai.
"He was all right. " the Mocker replied, rather sulkily.
Tai saw that the Mocker's hair was clipped more on one side than on the 
other, that the Mocker carried his arm in a
sling, and that the Mocker had a black patch on his face which had 
certainly not been there before. Tai sighed, for
this showed him he was right.
"Just a moment," said Tai. He brought the Mocker the curl from the lion's 
mane, the feather from the eagle's wing and
the scale from the dragon's cheek.
"I think these are yours, " said Tai.
The Mocker looked at the curl, the feather and the scale, and smiled a little.
"Did you know it was me?" he said.
"Yes!" Tai said. "That's why I let the thieves go free again. I thought it 
might be you. Otherwise I'd have strung them
up by their tails."
The Mocker put the lion's curl back on his head, and it grew again.
"You shall always be as brave as a lion, said the Mocker to Tai.
He stroked his arm with the feather and it healed.
"You shall always be as swift and true as a bird in flight," said the 
Mocker to Tai.
He licked the scale like a stamp and stuck it on the black patch under his 
eye.
"You shall always swim like a fish," the Mocker promised. "And these are my 
three gifts to you. They may seem cheap gifts because you've got them already, but only the Mocker can give them to you for 
always."
Tai looked at the Mocker.
"What are you trying to tell me?" he asked.
"Tai Taylor, I can teach you no more. You have learned all the little 
things I could teach you. Now you must go out
into the world and learn the great things."
The Mocker paused. "I must say I've never enjoyed teaching a hero more," he admitted.
 "Well, it's funny," said Tai, "but I don't feel at all brave or swift, and if you dropped me into the water I'd sink. In fact I feel very 
strange indeed - what is it, Mocker?"
"It's probably sadness," said the Mocker. "That's one first great lesson the old world
teaches us. And now, my dear Tai, the world is waiting for you and you must go."
"I think I'll go to my mother and father and we'll all go home," Tai, replied. "Back to the bush. Goodbye. Mocker."
 "Goodbye, Tai, Taylor. If ever you're in these parts again call in on me, won't you?"
So Tai, went off down the mountain side, stepping it out like a hero and not looking back.
But as he reached the road at the bottom of the hill a faint thin sound came back to him. It was the Mocker's last goodbye.
It was the bleating of a goat.
THE END

Ted and His Canada Geese
by Susi R. COLLINS
illustrated by Nan Reid

ONE DAY, ON THE EAST COAST of the South Island, Ted saw a pair of Canada geese. They flew out of a 
grey cloud, and landed smoothly among the stones.
He wished that he could catch them and keep them as pets. Perhaps they would follow him around the 
fishing settlement where he lived, as dogs followed other boys.
Back at home, he had a large wire cage, in which he had once kept finches. That would do for the geese, he thought.
He could keep his eye on them all the time, and tame them.
Ted had often seen Canada geese round Lake Ellesmere. He loved to watch them circling above the 
waters or resting
at the lake's edge. He had a very warm feeling for these birds. Sometimes he liked to think that they 
might be princes
in disguise, waiting for the magic spell that would turn them into real people again.
The day he saw the geese come out of the cloud and land among the stones, he raced back to the 
settlement to get
a fishing net that belonged to his father. The wind was nor'-west - hot and dusty. The birds were tired when they landed after 
battling hard against it. Ted hoped that they would still be resting when he returned 
with the net.
Yes, they were there, all right. They were standing close together, facing the hot wind. They parted 
and walked a few
steps, wriggling their tails. Then they came close together again, and lowered their heavy brown 
bodies into a cosy
hollow. 
The geese were about twenty yards away from Ted's hiding place behind two large stones. The waves 
curled so high
that spray stung Ted's eyes. He waited and watched. The wind spun splinters of shells into the air.
The geese drew in their long, strong necks, and partly buried them under their right wings. Ted 
waited. Quietly, he
spread out his net, to make sure there were no tangles. When he was sure that the geese were asleep, 
he stole up
behind them, and threw the net over them.
What a noise! What a thrashing about under the net! But Ted knew exactly what he was doing. When the geese were still, he held 
them down firmly, and talked to them, and stroked their heads. Then, slowly, he rolled back part of the net and withdrew the 
biggest goose. He was happy, at last, to feel the body of a beautiful Canada goose in his hands.
"I name you Ignook, my friend," he said. The goose was strong, and it fought violently. With his free 
hand, Ted rolled
some large stones round the edges of the net, to hold the other goose until his return. His heart was 
trembling. The
eyes of the goose under the net seemed to freeze with fear.
Ted hurried off to the settlement and soon had Ignook inside the cage.
"I won't be long, Ignook. I'll soon have your friend with you." But Ignook ran about the cage, pecking 
savagely at the
wires.
When Ted lifted the second goose out from under the net, he said, "I name you Nook, friend of Ignook."
Nook didn't seem happy, either. But Ted was very happy. His wish had come true, and he was prepared 
to give the
geese all his care and love.
For two days, Ignook and Nook didn't eat - not even the yellow-ripe corn-cobs that Ted pushed through 
the wires.
Uncle Bruce said, "Well, what do you know! They'll eat my barley, but they won't touch those juicy 
corn-cobs!"
Ted saved spare bread from the kitchen, and some wheat which should have been fed to the hens. But 
the geese
weren't interested. They just walked round the cage, stiff-necked and angry. Ted was disappointed. 
However, after
some days, they began to peck at the wheat. Later, they nibbled at the corn-cobs and gobbled up some 
wheat. Ted was excited again.
But, after some weeks had passed, he noticed a great change in Ignook and Nook. They were not interested in food, now, but 
kept looking toward the mountains. All day they looked toward the mountains.
One evening, when the moon was full, Ted heard the flapping of wings, and the deep calls of many 
birds, in the sky.
He opened his bedroom window, and saw a dark endless line against the night sky. The Canada geese were on their yearly flight 
to the heads of the rivers, in the mountains.
Ignook and Nook had heard them, too. They started to honk wildly. Ted immediately thought of them closed up in the cage.
 He put on his top coat over his pyjamas, climbed out of the window, and walked through
the backyard to the cage. He was sad, but he
knew what he must do.
 He found Ignook and Nook very restless. He picked them up, and hugged them hard against 
his own body.
 "You can go now, Ignook and Nook. Now!
Up into the moonlight, Ignook. Up, Nook; you're free!" 
The geese rushed into the night and were soon on their way to the rivers of the mountains.
Ted was happy as he crawled into his warm bed, knowing that Ignook and Nook were up in the sky – free once again.

Piri Rides in the Circus
By Rene M. Thomas
illustrated by Clare Bowes

PIRI THOUGHT three o'clock would never come.
All the children were watching the clock on the wall waiting for the bell to ring. Their
 teacher smiled to herself. She knew why they were restless. 
"All right," she told them, you can all go early to-day. "
 They whooped with joy. Once outside the
 door they hurried to get to the sports grounds
 and see the animals. The circus had arrived in
 town while they were still in school, and now
 the men were busy putting up tents and feeding
 the animals. Piri didn't know what to see first.
 "Come and look at the elephants, called Tama.
"Over here, quickly!" Some children were already there, gazing at the huge beasts.
"Don't go too close," warned Piri. "I wouldn't like to be tramped on by those big feet!"
"I can hear the lions roaring," said Tama. He stopped a man who was carrying a bucket of raw meat. 
"Where are
the lions, please?" he asked.
"They're not on view to-day," the man replied. "Come to the circus to-night, and you'll see them 
there. "
The boys were running over the grass to see the enormous tent go up when they noticed a small white pony tied to the fence. Piri, 
who loved horses, stopped at once.
"Let's talk to the pony," he said, but Tama kept on running.
Piri stroked the pony's neck gently. He felt in his school-bag and found the apple he had forgotten 
to eat. The pony
gobbled it quickly, then nuzzled into Piri's bag in search of another
one.
"You beauty," said Piri. softly, putting his face against the pony's mane.
"Hi!"  One of the circus men was walking past. 
"D'you like our Prince?"
"He's a beaut!" breathed Piri. The man watched his hands caressing the pony.
"D'you know how to groom a horse?" he asked.
"Oh, yes, of course I do." Piri had often stayed on his uncle's farm, and had learnt while there to 
ride his cousin's
pony.
"Here you are, then." The man handed him a curry comb. "Get him all prettied up for
to-night. You coming to the circus?"
"You bet I am!" Piri's eyes sparkled. "Dad's promised to take us all."
"Good on Dad!" laughed the man.
Piri brushed and brushed, until Prince's coat gleamed. As he worked he 
talked to the pony, who stood quietly for him.
"I think I might join the circus one day," decided Piri. "Then I can look 
after the horses."
Later, while they were having tea, he chattered excitedly about Prince.
"Prince isn't the only animal in the circus," teased Hemi.
They went early to the big tent, and found seats close to the ring. There 
was a long time to wait, but they had plenty
to look at. Hundreds of people were swarming into the tent. Rows and rows 
of seats formed a large ring around the
centre, where the ground was covered with sawdust. Lights on the poles 
glittered brightly, and music blared from a
loudspeaker.
At last the tent was full, and the circus began. The children were 
delighted with the clever tricks of the animals, and
the clowns made them roar with laughter. Then Piri saw Prince come 
cantering into the ring. On his back stood a girl
in a dress made of silver stars. As Prince circled the ring, this girl did 
some wonderful tricks. She finished her act, the people clapped loudly - and the ringmaster led Prince 
into the centre.
"I'll give a dollar to the first boy who can ride Prince round the ring," he 
said.
Six or seven boys rushed up to him at once. Prince looked so tame that they 
were sure they could ride him. But they
soon discovered that he wasn't always tame. The first boy to try rode 
easily until he was almost round the ring.
Suddenly Prince kicked up his heels and the boy found himself lying on the 
sawdust.
The ringmaster helped him up and started the second boy off on Prince. But 
the same thing happened again, and
again, until all the boys had been tossed off. Piri noticed that Prince 
bucked in exactly the same spot each round.
Tama nudged him. "Why don't you give it a go?" he asked.
"Piri's too little," said Dad. If those big boys couldn't stick on I guess 
he couldn't either."
This made Piri feel nervous, but he wanted to ride the pony.
"Go on," urged Tama.
"Okay!" said Piri, and he ran into the ring. The people clapped when they 
saw such a small boy willing to try. The ringmaster smiled.
"Up you go, sonny!" he said, and away they went round the ring.
Piri leaned low on the pony's neck. "I'm your pal, remember," he said.
As they came near to the place where Prince had bucked every time, Piri 
pressed his knees into the pony's sides.
He clung tightly to the reins with one hand and to the pony's mane with 
the other.
"Gently, boy," he warned.
Prince did kick up his heels, but not very high, and Piri was able to hang 
on until the round was finished.
Everyone clapped hard as he walked back to
his seat with the dollar note clasped in his hand!
"Good on you, son!" said his father.
"Riding's easy," said Piri. Then he added, "But you see, Prince knows that I'm his pal!"

Billy Magee and his Chiming Dog
By Barry Mitcalfe
Drawings by Graham Percy

There was once a farmer called Billy Magee. The other farmers laughed at him because he was always late. Billy was the last 
farmer to get up. He was the last to milk his cows. He was the last to feed his hens. He was the last to go to bed at night.
Billy Magee was unhappy. He did not like being last and he did not like 
being laughed at.
It was not his fault that he was always late. He had a chiming clock that 
was supposed to wake him early in the
morning. But the clock used to stop during the night. Then it would start 
again, "Tick-tock, tick-tock." At last the
chimes would go, "Ding-dong, ding-dong."
When Billy Magee pulled up the blind, it was late. The sun was high in the 
sky. His neighbour's brown cows had all
been milked.
Billy would give the old clock a good shake. He did not want to sell it. He 
did not want to throw it away. It had been his grandfather's clock, so Billy wanted to keep it.
Now, Billy Magee had a dog called Mugwump. Mugwump was the laziest dog in 
the world. All he liked was eating
and sleeping.
Billy Magee had to chase the cows in to be milked because Mugwump was too 
lazy to do it for him. Billy did not like
the other farmers to see him doing the dog's job.
One night, Billy Magee shook his old clock. "Don't you stop," he said. He wanted to wake up early and go and play bowls the 
next day.
But during the night the clock stopped. When Billy Magee woke and looked 
out of his window he saw all the other
farmers going to play bowls. He was so angry that he threw the clock into 
the dog-kennel.
The clock lay there. One hand was bent, and the glass was broken but it 
still went, "Tick-tock, tick-tock." It woke
Mugwump.
"Get out," he growled.
The clock went on ticking. The big hand came close to twelve. "Ding-dong, 
ding-dong!" the clock chimed. Mugwump
got a fright and ran out to the end of his chain.
He watched the clock, but it didn't move. 
All it said was "Tick-tock, tick-tock."
 "Say something else, can't you?" growled Mugwump. But the clock just went, "Tick-tock, tick-tock."
"Say something else or I shall eat you," said Mugwump. He pulled an ugly face and growled. But the clock did nothing. Then 
Mugwump bit it!
Then he swallowed the clock, just as he had said he would.
 The clock was warm inside Mugwump. Its hands went round. It was time to chime again. "Ding-dong, ding-dong."
"Grrr," Mugwump growled. He tried to run away from the noise inside him.
Billy Magee came out and saw Mugwump running off. He was pulling his kennel along behind himself.
The kennel got caught in a neighbour's fence. The neighbour found Mugwump and took him home.
"He is scared," he said to Billy Magee. "What did you do to him?"
"Nothing,"" said Billy. "He just went mad."
"You will have to stop him," the neighbour said. "I don't want mad dogs on my farm."
Billy Magee tied up Mugwump and his kennel and went to play bowls. When he came home, he was very tired. He
went to bed and fell fast asleep.
He would have slept in next morning, but the clock inside Mugwump woke him with its "Ding-dong, ding-dong".
Billy got up. He untied Mugwump and away the dog went. He barked and chimed all over the farm. The cows came
running to be milked.
Billy was the first farmer to finish milking!
Soon Billy Magee and his chiming dog became famous. They won prizes at all the shows, and Billy became rich. He
could pay a man to milk his cows for him. He had time to go to all the shows. He was able to play bowls any time he
liked.

The Mouse-Deer and the Crocodile
by CHRISTINE COLE
drawings by Olga Volger

Once upon a time, there was a mouse-deer who wanted to get across a river. 
He tried and tried to get across, but the water was too deep. At last, he saw a crocodile climbing out on to the bank.
"Hello, friend crocodile," said the little mouse-deer. "I am sorry there are so few crocodiles in your family!"
"Don't be silly," said the crocodile. "Everyone knows that there are so 
many crocodiles that it's very hard to count them all."
" Why," said the mouse-deer, "that is nothing! When all the mouse-deer have 
a party, there are not enough coconuts
for all of us in the whole jungle."
"That is not true," said the crocodile. They argued and argued.
Then the mouse-deer said, "Well, then, if your family is really bigger than 
mine, why not call them all together? I
shall count them."
"Very well," said the crocodile. I shall go and get all my family." And he 
dived into the river.
Soon he came back, and with him were his mother and his father, his wife 
and his sons and his daughters, his
sisters and his brothers, his mother-in-law and his father-in-law, his 
aunts and his uncles, his grandmother and his
grandfather, and his cousins. In fact, all of the crocodile family came 
swimming along to the bank where the little mouse-deer was waiting.
"I can't count you while you are all swimming about, " said the 
mouse-deer. "Please tell your family to get in a straight line from here across to the other side of the river."
The crocodiles lined up right across the wide river.
"Now I am ready to begin counting you," called the mouse-deer. " One, 
two, three crocodiles," he counted, as he jumped from one crocodile to another. "Four, five, six, seven crocodiles."
And he went on, jumping and counting, until he got right across to the other side of the river.
Then the mouse-deer laughed. "What a silly family you are!" he said. It 
doesn't matter to me how many crocodiles
there are in your family. All I wanted was to get safely across the river. Thank you very much for helping me. Goodbye, my 
friends!" And the mouse-deer skipped into the jungle.
Then the crocodiles were very angry. The chief crocodile beat the river with his tail. "Never come near us again," he shouted. If 
you do, it will be the end of you, " he shouted. And, with that, all the crocodiles dived under the water and swam away.
A few weeks later, the mouse-deer was walking through the jungle, singing a 
happy song. He was happy because he
had just found a lot of red berries to eat. But they had made him thirsty, 
and he went to the edge of the river to have a
drink. Now the chief crocodile was still very angry. When he saw the 
mouse-deer standing in the water drinking, he
swam up and grabbed him by the leg.
The mouse-deer had to think very quickly. "What funny game are you 
playing?" he said. "I suppose you know you are not biting my leg, but only the end of a stick which I always carry when I go out 
for a walk in the jungle."
The river was so brown with mud that the crocodile could not see what he 
had in his mouth.
He did not want to eat the mouse-deer's stick, so he opened his long jaws. At once, the mouse-deer jumped out of the water and 
ran back into the jungle.
Now the crocodile was more angry than ever!
He crawled up on to the river bank, but the
trees of the jungle grew so close together that
only a very small animal like the mouse-deer
could get between them.
The crocodile said to himself, "Sooner or
later the mouse-deer will come back for another
drink. I shall lie on the bank, and he will think
I am an old log." The crocodile lay down on the
bank and kept perfectly still, and he did look
like a log.
The crocodile waited and waited. At last, the
mouse-deer came trotting by. "I don't remember seeing that log before," he said. "There's something funny here."
He called out, "If you are a crocodile, lie still!
If you are a log of wood, turn over!"
The crocodile thought, "If I lie still, he will
know that I am a crocodile." And so he pushed
and he pushed until he was lying on his back on the river bank.
"Oh, you silly crocodile," said the mouse-deer. "Don't you know that a 
log cannot turn over by itself?" And he ran back into the jungle.
The crocodile was so angry that he bit the air!
"This time," said the crocodile, "I shall really catch that mouse-deer."
He found some leaves and branches and made them into a little house, 
sticking them together with mud. Then the
crocodile put some red berries in the doorway of the house - the same 
berries that the mouse-deer loved to eat. There was just room for the crocodile to slide inside the house. There he waited.
He waited and waited, and soon along came the mouse-deer.
"Ah," he said to himself, "red berries! But I don't remember seeing this little house before." He crept up to the side of the house, 
and there, through a hole in the
leaves and branches, he saw the crocodile waiting.
The mouse-deer didn't wait. He ran into the jungle, and kept on running 
until he met a tiger. "How lucky to meet you,
friend tiger," said the mouse-deer. "I have just seen a fat little
pig, waiting in his own house right by the river bank. He seems to be waiting for you to come and eat him."
Now the tiger thought that a pig would taste
even better than a mouse-deer. "Where is this
little pig?" he growled.
"Let me take you to him," said the mouse-deer in a very kind voice. The tiger followed the mouse-deer back through the jungle 
until they came to the little house.
"Here you are, friend tiger. I hope you have a good meal,"  said the mouse-deer, and he ran off into the jungle.
The tiger ran, and then he jumped - right
on top of the little house. The crocodile opened
his jaws and caught the tiger. The tiger opened
his jaws and caught the crocodile. They fought
and fought until they were both so tired that
they had to stop fighting. Now the tiger was
angry with the mouse-deer, but the mouse-deer
didn't mind. He just went on his way through
the jungle, singing a happy song.

The Mud Pony 
an Indian  folk story
drawings by Victor Ambrus

Once there was an Indian camp, and in it lived a boy. His parents were very poor, and they had no horses. The boy
liked horses and often sat on the bank of the creek while the other boys 
were giving their ponies a drink.
One day, the boy decided he would make a pony of his own. He crossed the 
creek, and got some wood, and built a
little corral. He then took as much mud as he could carry to the corral, 
and made two ponies out of mud. He got
some white clay and put it on the head of one so that it had a white face.
Then the boy was happy. Every morning, he went to the corral. He carried the mud ponies down to the creek and dipped their 
noses in the water. Then he took them back to the corral again. He gave them green grass and took as much care of them as if 
they were real ponies.
One day, the boy went to see his mud ponies, and he found that one of them 
had crumbled to dust. He felt so sad
that he cried. Now he took even better care of the one that was left. It was the one with the white face.
One morning, while the boy was in his corral, the people took down the camp 
and went to hunt for buffalo. The boy's father and mother looked everywhere for him. When they could not find him, 
they had to go without him. When he
came back to the place where the camp had been, all the people were gone.
He cried and cried, and walked about picking up pieces of meat that people 
had thrown away. When night came, he
lay down and cried himself to sleep. Then he dreamed that a pony with a 
white face came to him and said, "My son,
you are poor, and Mother Earth is sorry for you. She has given me to you. I 
am part of her."
When the boy woke up, it was morning. He went to his corral and saw a 
fine pony with a white face.
The boy rubbed his eyes to see if it was a real pony. He went up to it, 
and it sniffed at his fingers. So he got a piece
of rope and put it around the pony's neck, and took it down to the water.
But the pony would not drink at all, and said to him, "My son, you are 
poor. Mother Earth is sorry for you and gave
me to you. I am your Mud Pony."
Then the boy was full of joy. As he looked after it, the pony said, "My son, you must do all I tell you to do, and some day you 
will become a great chief. Now, jump on my back, and we will find your people. I know the way to go."
The boy jumped on the pony's back, and away they went. They rode all that day, and when night came they reached the place 
where his people had camped the night before. But they had all gone on.
The boy jumped down and turned the pony free to eat grass, but it would not 
eat. "Do not mind me," it said. "Find something to eat for yourself."
The boy walked about, picking up bits of food the people had left. Then he 
lay down and went to sleep. In the morning
he rose, jumped on the pony, and away they went across the plain.
The next night they reached the camp where the people had stopped. Then the 
pony said, "Let me stay outside the
camp and you go to your tent and wake up your mother. I will stay here, for 
I do not need anything to eat and drink,
because I am part of Mother Earth! All I need is a blanket to keep the rain 
off me, or I shall be washed away!
Tomorrow, when the people move camp, stay behind, and I will be waiting for you."
The boy entered the camp and went into his parents' tent. He put some dry grass on the fire so the flames rose up. Then he woke 
his mother, saying, "Mother, here I am!"
His mother opened her eyes, and when she
saw her son she sprang up with joy. She woke
his father, and he quickly threw more wood on
the fire. People came rushing in and were glad
to see that he was safe.
When they got up next morning, the boy
told his parents to go on without him, and they
did. The pony came, and away they went. At
night they found the people again, and the pony
stayed outside the camp. This happened for four
days.
On the fourth night, the pony said, "My son,
take me into the camp so that the people may
see me. The chief will hear about me and want
to buy me. He will give you some horses. Take
them, and he can have me. But he will not keep
me for long."
So the boy rode the pony into the camp, and the
people were surprised. They said,  "Why, it looks like a mud pony, like the ones that the boys make with their fingers. It is a 
wonderful pony!"
When the chief heard about it, he sent for the boy. He asked him to come into his tent and made him sit down. Then he said, "My 
son, I have sent for you to eat with me. I want to tell you that I like your pony. I will give you four of my best horses for 
it."
The boy said, " I have heard the Great Chief. I will let the Chief have my 
pony."
The chief was pleased, and his wife filled a wooden bowl with soup and put 
two spoons into the bowl. She put this
before the chief and the boy, and they ate together.
Afterwards, the chief caught four horses and drove them to the boy's tent. 
He took the pony to his corral. He put grass before it, but it would not eat.
Some days later, the men rode off to hunt for buffalo. The chief, on his 
mud pony, soon raced ahead of the rest, and killed many buffalo. But, as he was riding, the pony tripped and nearly fell. Its feet 
had been broken and it was hurt.
The chief was angry and, when he went back to the camp, he told the boy to 
give him back his four horses and take
the pony. The boy was happy and took his mud pony home. In a few days, it 
was better. Then the chief wanted to
have it back, but the boy would not give it to him.
From that day on, the boy went hunting on the mud pony. He killed more 
buffalo than the other men did. When he
went into a battle, no one could harm him, but he always beat the enemy. He 
became a great chief. He still loved his
mud pony very much and covered it carefully at night.
But one night he forgot to cover it, and he had a dream. He thought that 
the mud pony came to him and said, "My son, you are no longer poor. My job is finished. I am going back to Mother Earth 
for I am part
of her."
In the morning, he found that it was raining. He got up and ran to the corral to put the blanket on 
the pony, but he
could not find the animal anywhere. Then, on the side of the hill, he saw a little heap of mud that 
still looked like a
pony, and when he saw this he went home sadly to
his tent.

Jouni and the Wolf 
a story from Lapland
by S. C. GEORGE
drawings by Mary Ferguson
Jouni was only nine, but he helped the men to mind the deer at night.
One night, when he was drinking some coffee before going out, his mother told his baby sister a bedtime story about the ghost 
people.
"They look just like us, " she said, "but they live under the ground. They have white deer. Don't 
forget to pay them if
they want to mind your deer for you. You can leave some money or some coffee on the ground for them."
"But how do we know they are ghosts if they look like us?" Jouni asked.
"Because the girls have fair hair and are the most beautiful women in the world. They drive white 
deer. If you can throw a knife or a piece of steel into the herd, all the deer you throw
it over are yours."
Jouni fastened a big knife to his belt, put on his skis, and took his sticks in his hand. His mother 
handed him a bag
with coffee, a little coffee-pot and some matches.
"Take Musti with you," said his father. "There is a wolf about." Musti was their dog.
He had not far to go, for the tents were pitched near the reindeer.
"There's something about. They are upset tonight," said the man who had been watching before Jouni.
"Father says it's a wolf, but I think it's snow," said Jouni. 
"Might be," the man answered. "But, if they run, don't lose the leader."
The leader was a deer with a bell around his neck. If Jouni kept near him, he could be found when it snowed.
As Jouni and Musti moved round the herd, the first snow came down. Soon it hid the stars.
It was then that Jouni tripped over a deer that had been killed by the wolf. The rest of
the deer were walking round in the falling snow, making a big circle. The other watchers were
calling to each other, but Jouni was singing to the leader to stop it from running away. Soon he 
could not hear their
voices any longer.
The deer began to run. Soon Jouni was chasing after them at full speed with Musti beside him. The 
herd had broken
into little groups, and he was all alone.
The deer went faster. The bells and the noise of their hooves sounded further away. Jouni could no 
longer see the tips
of his skis for the snow. He was sure now that he was following only a small part of the herd. He 
became frightened,
not because he was alone, but because he might lose the deer. He could not stop until he saw their 
white tails again.
But now the deep snow made the deer go slowly. Jouni caught up with them. Musti followed behind him. 
The sound of the bells stopped, and Jouni knew that the deer had stopped.
He made some coffee over the little lamp. Just as he finished his drink, the deer started to move again.
Musti ran from Jouni's side, with a deep growl. Jouni jumped up and followed him. There was blood in the snow and a dying 
deer. Musti stood facing a wolf.
As Jouni came up, Musti looked around at him. The wolf sprang. But Jouni hit it with his stick. It fell sideways. Musti jumped at 
it. The wolf fought fiercely, but Musti was soon able to kill it. Jouni dragged its body away from the herd, so that it would not 
frighten them. The boy and the dog walked around the herd, and Jouni sang a song 
to them until his throat was sore and he was very, very tired. When the deer had settled down, Jouni fell asleep in the snow with 
Musti at his back.
Jouni dreamed about the ghost people and woke up to the sound of barking dogs. He saw the most beautiful woman in the world 
with some white deer. He pulled the knife from his belt and threw it
over the deer. But his knife went over only one deer.
Then he saw that the ghost was his mother. She laughed.
"I was dreaming. I thought you were a ghost," Jouni said. "But, even if you were, my knife went over only one deer."
"Ghost or not, you shall have a deer for yourself, " said his father, when he had seen the dead wolf. "You have been very 
brave."
Jouni began singing, for at last he had a deer of his own. And his mother was very happy because Jouni had thought she was 
one of the beautiful ghost women.

Herbert and Hannah
By Allona Priestley
drawings by Richard Kennedy

Peter lived in a big old house with a garden that was full of trees. Peter liked to get out of his bedroom window and pretend that 
he was hunting wild animals in the jungle. His bed was by the window so that he could look out into the garden at night before he 
went to sleep. He liked to pretend that he was a hunter sleeping by a fire in the jungle.
One night, he was lying in bed thinking about the tiger he had nearly shot 
in the jungle that afternoon, when he heard
a noise. It sounded like a crocodile sliding over the leaves and stones.
"Dad!" called Peter. "Dad! Come here quickly! I think there's a crocodile 
in the garden!"
Peter's father came in and looked out of the open window. For a minute it 
was quiet, and then the noise began again.
Dad laughed. "That's not a crocodile," he said. "It's a hedgehog." He 
looked out the window. It's two hedgehogs," Dad said. "They're looking for slugs. That's good. The 
slugs have been eating my lettuce plants.
I hope the hedgehogs stay and eat all the slugs."
Peter could see the two hedgehogs now. They had little pointed noses and 
tiny feet and prickly backs. Peter reached
his hand out of the window, and tried to touch one of the prickles to see 
how sharp it was. But, before he could touch it, the two little hedgehogs rolled themselves into two tight balls and lay still.
"Now they won't come out for a long time,"  Peter's father said. "You'd better go to sleep. Tomorrow 
you can put
some milk in a saucer for them. They like milk nearly as much as the cats do."
In the morning. Peter woke up and looked out of the window, but the hedgehogs were not there. Peter 
got out the
window and looked in the bushes. There, in the middle of the bushes, were the two hedgehogs, still 
curled into balls.
Peter brought some milk in a saucer and sat down beside them to watch. Nothing happened for a long 
time, but he
kept sitting there and watching. Then he saw one ball unroll, and a little pointed nose came out. 
For a while, the
hedgehog looked about with its black eyes and sniffed with its pointed little nose. Peter held his 
breath while he
watched it go to the saucer. It began to drink just like a cat. Then the other hedgehog uncurled, and 
came over to the
other side of the saucer.
Peter watched and watched, and then he felt he had to tell somebody else. He crept away very quietly as he did when he was 
hunting tigers. As soon as he got around the corner, he got up and ran into the kitchen.
"Dad! Come and look! Come quickly!" said Peter, hopping about.
"What's happened now?" said his father.
"The hedgehogs!" said Peter. "Come and see! Quick, before they stop drinking."
They both went very quietly, but they got to the saucer of milk just in time to see the hedgehogs rolling up again.
" Oh!" said Peter. "They were drinking milk just like cats, Dad, really 
they were. Look! You can see how much they've
had already."
"They must have felt the shaking we make in the ground even when we walk on 
our toes," said Dad. "Never mind,
they'll be back for more. Keep putting the saucer out in the same place, 
and they'll soon get to know about it."
At breakfast time, Peter told his mother and his big brother and sister 
about the hedgehogs.
"They're going to be my pets," he said. I'm going to give them names. What 
sort of names would be good for
hedgehogs?"
"Herbert," said his big brother.
"And Hannah," said his sister.
"Herbert and Hannah," said Peter, "Herbert and Hannah Hedgehog. Yes, that 
sounds good. That's what I'll call them.
My pet hedgehogs, Herbert and Hannah."
That night, before he went to bed, he put out another saucer of milk and 
waited by the window. He heard the
hedgehogs coming, but this time he could see that it was their prickles 
that made the noise on the ground. They
came sniffing and snuffing as if they were looking for the milk. When they 
found it, they sat down and drank till it was
all finished.
"Goodnight," said Peter. "Goodnight, Herbert and Hannah." But, as soon as he 
began speaking, they rolled into balls
again.
The next morning, he put out some more milk and sat down beside it instead 
of watching from the window. This time
he had to wait for so long that he was nearly late for school. But, in the 
end, they came and drank the milk while he
sat beside them.
He did this every day, until they were so used to him that he didn't need 
to sit still while they drank their milk.
Then, one morning, he said, "Herbert," just in a whisper. One hedgehog 
stopped drinking, and looked at him with its
little black eyes, but it didn't roll up. "That one must be Herbert," 
Peter said to himself. "The other must be Hannah."
He said, "Hullo, Herbert and Hannah," and Herbert looked at him again.
Peter was so pleased that he laughed a little bit, and still the 
hedgehogs didn't roll up. Now he could really say they
were his pets.
During the holidays, Peter was able to spend a lot more time with the 
hedgehogs. They were getting so tame that
they would let Peter touch their prickly backs.
There was a little stream in Peter's garden. He was playing near it one 
day when he heard something splash in the water.
At first, Peter thought someone was throwing stones into the water. Then 
there came another splash. He crept quietly past some bushes and saw Herbert and Hannah.
"Hullo! What are you two doing here?" he said.
Herbert showed him what they were doing, just as if he'd understood 
Peter. He rolled himself into a ball, gave himself a little push with his back feet, and rolled right down the bank and into the 
stream with a splash. Then he unrolled, swam back and climbed to the top again. Then Hannah had a turn and did the same thing. 
And then Herbert went down again. And then they both went down together.
Peter watched them till it was nearly time for lunch. They had each been 
down the bank fifteen times. And after that
they must have been tired, because they curled up in the bushes and went 
to sleep. He could hardly wait till his Dad
came home that night to tell him about it.
"Well!" said his father. I've read somewhere that hedgehogs like doing 
that, but I didn't think it could be true. I wish I could see them!"
Peter saw the hedgehogs playing their game quite often after that. Once 
his father saw them too. Peter talked about
it at school, and his teacher asked him to write about it and to draw a 
picture for the class newspaper.
One day, his father said to him, "How would you like to live in the South 
Island, Peter?"
Peter thought about it. I've got a new job," said his father, "and we're 
going to move to Christchurch. They have good gardens there. I think we'll like it."
It's colder there than here, isn't it?" said Peter.
"Yes." said his father. "It's a lot colder. Sometimes they have snow and 
frosts in the winter."
Peter thought Christchurch sounded a good place. Then he thought of 
something else.
"Can I take Herbert and Hannah?" he asked.
"How would you carry them?" his father said.
"In a box, said Peter. "We could put them in a box with grass and some 
slugs, and they could go in a plane. There
was a boy in our class, and he went to live in Dunedin, and his cat went 
all the way by air. Can I take them, Dad?"
"Well, I don't know," said Dad. "Mum says we've got to take the hens with 
us, and then there'll be the cats. So I suppose we might as well have a couple of hedgehogs. We'll be like a travelling circus."
When the time came for the hedgehogs to go, Peter gave them a good saucer 
of milk and then he put them into the
box he'd made.
Peter and his father went to the airport, with the hens in a crate, and the cats in a basket with a lid, and the hedgehogs in their 
box. The man at the airport put his
eye to one of the holes to have a look at Hannah and Herbert.
"Well!" he said. "What do you know! Hedgehogs! "
Peter went to Christchurch by plane too, but his plane was faster, and he got there before Herbert and Hannah. They
seemed to be quite well when he picked up their box again at the airport. When he opened it in the new garden, they
came out and had a saucer of milk. Then they had a look at the new garden.
It was a good garden, with lots of trees and and shrubs. It was like the one they had left in Auckland. But the days were much 
colder in Christchurch. Before they had been there long. there was frost on the ground each morning.
Herbert and Hannah seemed to like the new garden, but after a while Peter began to feel that something was strange.
"Dad." he said. "I don't know what's happened to the hedgehogs. They seem to be starving. I had to give them a
saucer of milk each this morning. And they still looked as though they could have drunk some more."
"Perhaps the cold air has made them hungry," said his father. "You ate a big breakfast this morning, too." But Peter
felt it was more than that. He could almost see them getting fatter every day.
One morning, when he went out with the two saucers, they weren't waiting 
for him. He called them, but they did not
come. He searched everywhere in the garden, but still he could not find 
them. When his father came home, Peter
was almost too sad to tell him the news.
"I think they must have been eaten by a dog, because they were so nice and 
fat," he said.
"No!" said his father. "And they couldn't have been run over, or I'd have 
seen them on the road. They must be
somewhere. Come on. We'll have a good look before it gets dark."
They started at one end of the garden and looked behind everything, and 
under everything. and in the middle of every
bush, until they came to the other end. At last, Peter looked under a pile 
of dead leaves. There were Herbert and
Hannah, rolled into two tight balls and fast asleep.
"You lazy hedgehogs!" said Peter. "You've been asleep all day and now it's 
nearly night again. Come on, wake up!"
He turned Herbert over gently to make him wake up. But Herbert stayed rolled up tight and didn't take any notice. 
Nor did Hannah. Then Peter ran to get their milk, but still they wouldn't wake up.
"They're dead," said Peter.
"No, they can't be dead," said his father. "They couldn't stay rolled up. 
It must be something else. Wait a bit . . . yes,
of course! That'll be it. They've gone into a deep sleep, almost like 
hibernation."
"What's that?" said Peter.
"In very cold countries, some animals eat a lot in the autumn. They go to 
sleep for the whole winter and don't wake up
till the spring. That is what we call hibernation."
"I remember Mum reading me a story when I was little," said Peter. "And 
it was about hedgehogs in England, and I
think they went to sleep in winter."
"There you are, then," said his father. "That's what has happened to 
Herbert and Hannah."
"But hedgehogs don't go to sleep in Auckland, do they?"
"No, said his father, I'm sure they don't."
" Then, however did they know what to do in Christchurch?"
Peter's father laughed. "We'll never know the answer to that one," he said, "unless you can get Herbert and Hannah to tell you in 
the spring!"





