Dildrum, King of the Cats

Once upon a time there was an old man and his wife who owned a cat of which they were 
very proud. It was a very handsome cat. Its fur was a beautiful dove-grey, except for 
the tips of its ears, which were of a rich plum colour. Its whiskers were long and 
silky, and its eyes a wonderful milky blue. The old couple never ceased to admire its
handsome looks, and to wonder at the mysterious way in which it had come into their 
home; for they had not so much chosen their cat as been chosen by it.
One night, when the old man had gone out to take a last look at the stars and to see 
that everything was safely locked up for the night, he found the cat waiting quietly 
on the doorstep. When he opened the door, it walked confidently first into the kitchen 
and then into the sitting-room, and stretched itself out on the rug before the fire 
like some long-lost wanderer that had come home.
From then on it lived with the old man and his wife, and they gave it the name of 
Julius. "I don't think we ought to call it by some ordinary name like Smokey or 
Smudge," he said to his wife, "because anyone can see that it isn't an ordinary cat. 
We'll call it Julius after the Roman emperor, because it is a kind of emperor among 
cats and should be
treated like one."
So from then on they called it by that name, and the old man refused to 
have the name shortened to Jule or Julie. It
always replied to its name, but with a strange haughtiness, as if not 
even an emperor's name was good enough for it.
But it was a very polite and fussy cat, and though from time to time it 
would vanish, as all tom-cats do, it always
came back as well-groomed as if it had never been away.
One night, when Julius was away on one of his mysterious jaunts, the old man sat 
reading in his 
parlour. Outside the
wind was beating around the house, and every now and then the rain was dashed against 
the windows 
like a handful
of pebbles, but the curtains were drawn close and the sitting-room was warm and cosy. 
The old man sat 
in his big
chair, with his feet on a little footstool, toasting his toes. The big grandfather 
clock ticked away 
solemnly and
regularly, every now and then rousing itself to strike the quarters. The stiff paper 
of the book 
rustled as the old man
turned over the pages. The flames of the fire licked up through the coal, and the 
candles burnt 
brightly and steadily.
Suddenly there was a shower of soot upon the hearth, and the old man put down his book 
to see what had made it fall.
"It must be the rain," he said. "These old old-fashioned chimneys are so wide the rain 
falls straight down them. There
must be a rare storm outside to drive the rain down like that."
He put on his spectacles again and went back to his book, but before he had read more 
than two or 
three sentences there was another fall of soot, and the flames of the fire seemed to 
sink back into the hot coals.
"Perhaps it isn't the rain after all," said the old man. "I wonder if I've got a dead 
bird in the 
chimney. One of those
starlings must have got lodged inside."
He turned to his book again, but this time he had hardly found his place before there 
was a fresh 
fall of soot. The
flames of the fire sank even lower, until neither heat nor light came from it. The 
candles seemed to 
shrink and grow
pale, and out of the mouth of the chimney on to the hearth sprang a great grey cat. At 
first the old man thought it must be Julius, who for once had chosen a strange way to 
come home. But this was not 
Julius. It was a
wild-looking cat, with stained and matted fur, a long lean body, one green eye and one 
brown one, and 
a queer
excited look on its face. It looked round the room, and, seeing that there was no one 
there but the 
old man, put its
two front paws on the stool, opened its mouth, and, in a perfectly clear and almost 
human voice, 
said, "Tell Dildrum
that Doldrum is dead!" Then it turned back to the fireplace, leapt back up the 
chimney, kicked down 
another shower
of soot, and vanished.
The old man could scarcely believe his eyes. At first he thought he must have fallen 
alseep, and had a dream, but when he looked again at the stool he saw there the marks 
of two sooty paws. The cat had certainly been in the room, but had it really spoken 
those strange words about Dildrum and Doldrum?
"I know that I'm getting old," said the old man, "but I did not know that my wits were 
beginning to 
wander. Why, I
never heard a cat speak English before, never mind utter such mumbo-jumbo as Dildrum 
and Doldrum."
Just then the door opened. In came his wife and, after her, Julius.
"Here's your tea, Matthew," said the old woman, "and here's our little wanderer come 
to share supper 
with you.... But
what on earth is the matter with you, Matthew? Has anything happened to you? Are you 
unwell? You look 
as if you've
had a shock."
"Not a shock, my dear, but something very strange - something that has made me wonder 
if I can trust my senses any more."
"Well, have your tea first before you begin to tell me about it. It can't be very 
exciting because 
nothing very wonderful
can happen in a quiet house like this."
"Well, my dear," went on the old man, "I don't suppose you will believe a word of what 
I am going to say, but as Heaven is my judge, this is what happened here in this very 
room just before you came in. I was 
sitting here in this seat with my feet on the stool, and I'd just got to about page 
twenty in that book I'm reading . . ."
"Don't be too long-winded, dear. Never mind about the page."
"I'd just got to about page twenty when down that chimney, believe it or not, there 
came a cat. A big 
grey cat, with
dirty fur and two odd eyes, a green one and a brown one.
The old man paused in his tale, because no sooner had he come to the description of 
the strange cat than Julius got up from the rug in front of the 
fire and looked
earnestly at him as if listening to the story. "Just look at Julius!" said the old 
man. "There's one 
that seems to believe
my story, anyhow. What's the matter, Julius. Do you want to hear the story? Well, I'll 
tell you."
And, half-forgetting that he had started by telling his story to his wife, he began to 
talk to the 
cat. "Yes, down the
chimney came that dirty old grey cat, scattering soot all over the hearth. He jumped 
out of the fire, 
put his two dirty
feet on my footstool, opened his mouth, and said . . ."
`Said', Matthew?" interrupted the old woman. "Did you say 'said'? Do you mean to say 
that this cat spoke?"
"Yes, he spoke just as clearly as you or anybody else. 'Tell Dildrum,' he said . . ."
At this Julius came even closer to the old man and opened his big blue eyes more 
widely than ever.
" 'Tell Dildrum'," went on the old man, " 'that Doldrum is dead!' Well. I never heard 
such 
mumbo-jumbo in all my life! It
was as bad as Tweedledum and Tweedledee. 'Tell Dildrum,' he said  ... Why, what's the 
matter with you, Julius?"
Julius had leapt with all four feet on to the footstool. In his milky blue eyes there 
was a queer 
excited look, a look of
sorrow mixed with triumph. Then suddenly he too opened his mouth, and in a rich and 
princely voice he 
said, "Alas,
alas! Is Doldrum dead at last? Why, that makes me the King of the Cats!"
As he spoke the flames of the candles began to shrink again. The fire sank and dimmed. 
Julius-whose 
real name was
made known at last-leapt on to the hearth, sprang nimbly up the chimney, and vanished. 
When they had 
recovered
from their shock the two old people ran out into the darkness to see if they could see 
their beloved 
cat on the roof, but
they could see no trace of him. There was nothing to be seen but the great storm-
clouds rolling over 
the night sky,
and the bare branches of the trees glistening with rain.
"I don't suppose we shall ever see him again," said the man. "He will be sitting on 
his throne now, with a golden crown on his head. But it is no more than he deserves, 
for I always said he was a royal cat."

an English folk story retold by FREDERICK GRICE drawings by OLGA VOLGER

Cricket with a Difference

The great day had arrived at last and Pele sang happily at the top of his voice while 
he did his early morning jobs. His father saw this, and decided to play a joke on him. 
"Son," he said, "we had better leave early for the plantation, as there is a lot of 
work to do today. You collect the knives, sacks and baskets, and also take a couple of 
mats. We might be spending the night in the bush."
Pele just stared at his father, his mouth full of food. He turned to his mother, who 
looked a little 
surprised, but said
nothing. His father finished talking and looked at Pele's face and what he saw there 
made him burst 
out laughing.
Leaning over, he ruffled Pele's hair and said, "Did you really think that I could 
possibly forget the 
cricket match
today?"
Everyone on the Island loved playing cricket. It was the favourite sport of the boys 
and young men; and very often the women joined in, too. When village played against 
village, everybody had a wonderful time. Today, the 
very first game
of the season was to be played in a village about eight miles from home. The villagers 
had hired a 
truck for the older
people and young children. Every bike in the village would be used, but most of the 
young girls and 
boys would
probably walk. Breakfast was soon over, and Manogi, Pele's mother, started to get the 
children ready, 
while Pele and
his father finished the jobs that had to be done around the house. In a short time 
they were all 
dressed in their
Sunday best and ready to leave.
Manogi and the children were going by truck and Harry by bike, but Pele was going to 
do the trip in 
real style today.
He was going by car. He called out an excited goodbye to his parents and started off 
down the road to the big house where he mowed the lawns each week. Tommy, the son of 
Missie, was spending his school 
holidays
at Niue with his parents, and he and Pele had become great friends. Tommy went to 
school in New 
Zealand.
Today, Pele had been given permission to invite Tommy to play cricket for his village. 
He laughed to 
himself when he
thought of the fun that they had had the other night. Pele could still see the look of 
amazement on 
Tommy's face
when he had tried to explain how Island cricket was played. Tommy just didn't believe 
him. It was all 
so different from
anything he had ever heard of or seen in his life. So, in the end, Pele had said, "All 
right, my 
friend, I will get
permission for you to join us, and then you will see that I have told you the truth."
He heard his name being called, and looked up to see Tommy sitting on the wall, waving 
to him. He 
hurried along to
the house just as Tommy's father drove the car to the front door. They got in and, 
with a wave to 
Missie, they were off.
Tommy was very excited about the trip, and so was Pele, who waved wildly whenever they 
passed any of 
his friends.
A drive in a motorcar was a great thrill, and he didn't want any of his friends to 
miss seeing him. 
In all too short a
time, they arrived at the village.
There were people everywhere, talking, shouting, and clapping each other on the back. 
Everybody was 
in a real
holiday mood. The girls were dressed in their Sunday best. Garlands of flowers 
decorated their hair, 
and their faces
shone with excitement. The boys and young men were standing around in groups, wearing 
their best lava lavas and
anxious to get started. The visitors were received by the elders of the village and, 
after a short 
prayer by the pastor,
the two teams were whistled to attention.
An elder from each village was then made manager for each side. Calling their players 
together, they 
walked to two
separate houses where they gave last minute instructions. This took some time, as 
cricket is taken 
very seriously.
Meanwhile, the women had seated themselves cross-legged on the ground in front of 
their own village 
houses, where
they sang and chanted to encourage their menfolk. After what seemed a long time, play 
began.
The pitch was a strip of concrete about twenty-two yards long and six feet wide, and 
the wickets were 
ordinary sticks,
uneven in length. In each team were fifty players. Each batsman had four runners, two 
at each end. 
When the batsman hit the ball, the first runner would set off for the other end, and 
not until he had placed his stick over the
crease could the second runner go. The batsman's job was just to hit the ball, stand 
aside, and then 
let the runners in
turn pile up the runs.
The bat was about four feet long. The bottom half had three faces, and tapered to a 
round handle 
which was bound
with sennet. (Sennet is a string made from coconut fibres.) It was quite heavy to 
handle, and the 
only stroke used by
the batsman was like a golf stroke. The ball was made of solid rubber, heavy and very 
bouncy. This 
combination of
the powerful stroke and the bouncy ball meant that the fielders had to scatter far and 
wide.
Tommy had been told to stay under a large breadfruit tree where there was some shelter 
from the burning sun, but Pele was never far away. He would often run over and explain 
some point in 
the game which he knew Tommy did not
understand. Tommy was really enjoying himself, as this was like no game of cricket he 
had ever seen.
The game had not been going very long when an argument started between the managers 
over an umpire's decision.
The umpire had given a player out, but one of the managers disagreed. While they 
talked, the players sat around laughing and talking and calling out, encouraging them 
to settle the argument and get the game going again. The women soon joined in, adding 
to the din.
Pele told Tommy that sometimes these talks lasted for hours. Each manager 
would blame the other, or even accuse
the umpire of taking sides, particularly if the player was a relation. Usually it was 
the best talker who the argument.
One day the managers and umpires began to argue before the game had even 
started, and they were still arguing
when it got dark. The game had to be abandoned.
But today, the argument was settled quickly and the game was started again. 
The new man on the bat was named
Miki - a great favourite with everybody. He was recognised by both teams as 
the greatest hitter, and he loved showing
off to the crowd. He was well and truly ready when the first ball came down 
to him. He lunged forward and with a
terrific swipe played the ball. It soared into the air and in seconds was 
lost to sight. The shouts and screams which
followed were unbelievable. There were spotters in the trees and up coconut 
palms, and all of them were shouting out
where the ball had gone. As well as players, men, women and children 
joined in the search. Everybody was keen to find the ball so that the game could 
continue. Back on the pitch the runners were still happily scoring runs for their 
team. Boundary runs are not played in Island cricket, each score has to be run. In an 
amazingly short time, and as if out of nowhere, a ball zoomed down on to the pitch, 
followed by a shouting 
mob of people coming out of the bush
from all angles.
Tommy was nearly exhausted, but he was laughing like mad, while he tried to 
explain to his father what had
happened. After the ball had been struck, someone had shouted, "Run, run," 
and everybody had, including Tommy.
He had torn through the bush, into a patch of coconut trees, paw paw and 
breadfruit trees, and scrambled over coral
rock-heads. He was not at all sure what he was doing or where he was going, 
but he soon realised that people were racing past him, coming the other way, so he 
turned, joined them and heard that the ball
had been found. He could hardly believe it. Those tree-spotters certainly 
knew their job!
Play continued, and it was some time before Tommy realised that there was 
no stopping for lunch. The feast, or kai,
was to be held at night when play was finished, but those who felt hungry 
helped themselves to whatever they could find.
Tommy helped himself to a nice young coconut. These young green nuts 
make a most refreshing drink. The outside
husk protects the nut and helps to keep the milk, or juice, quite cool, 
even in the hottest weather. A slice with a bush
knife will take the top off, and the juice can
be drunk straight from the nut. The top of the shell can then be used to 
spoon out the soft white flesh, which is very
tasty. From a very early age, children climb the coconut trees like 
experts, and they are never afraid, even when the
trees are up to sixty feet tall. When they are climbing, they usually carry 
great bush knives tucked into the backs of
their lava lavas.
Another favourite of Tommy's was sugar-cane. This plant grows abundantly on 
the Island, and it may reach nine feet
in height. When the hard outer skin is removed, fibrous-looking flesh can 
be seen. This is full of juice that is sweet
and refreshing.
It was late afternoon before the home team were all out and the visitors 
went into bat. The game went on as before,
with fielders all over the place, and the ladies still chanting.
The last few runs were made in the dark, and soon the game was finished. 
Huge scores of 500 and 580 runs were
made. And now, while the ladies went to help prepare the feast, the teams 
sat on the village green with their orators
and spokesmen and talked about the game. Each run was discussed, and, in a 
very friendly way, the umpires were
accused of favouring their own teams.
Soon it was time for their supper, which was all set out in front of the 
pastor's house. Many Coleman lamps lit up the
very dark night, and shone on the wonderful display of food which had been 
prepared. It was a real feast indeed. There
was roast pig and chickens; fish cooked in coconut juice, wrapped in taro 
leaves and baked in an umu (earth oven);
raw fish soaked in lime juice for several hours and then covered with 
coconut juice. Tommy loved the Island food and
had so many favourites that he wondered where he was going to find
room to eat as much as he would like. But there was one thing he was not going to 
miss, and that was the coconut crab, which is found round coconut trees. It is like 
crayfish, but its flesh is whiter and more juicy. This is a great favourite with 
everyone, and none of the flesh is allowed to go to waste. The Island people will sit 
picking every bit
from even the smallest of the claws.
After the feast came the Tame Parties. These were parties of men and 
women who had made up songs and dances about the day's match. The highlights of the 
day's play were made into songs and particular players were singled out, some because 
of their good play and some because of their bad play. But everything was taken in 
good humour and was enjoyed by everyone.
Soon the farewell speeches were being made, and, with a lot of hand-shaking 
and hand-waving, Tommy and Pele
were off with the others.
The boys were too tired to talk very much on the way home, and as Tommy's 
father looked at his son he could
almost read his thoughts. "A good game of cricket, yes - but oh, what a 
difference!"
by CATHERINE J. PHILPOTT drawings by GRAHAM PERCY

Maui and the Sun

Maui and his brothers lived in a small village. Every day they ran races, swam in the 
sea and played 
darts. The darts
were made of long, thin fern fronds. Maui always won the races and he could swim the 
fastest. When 
they played
darts Maui's darts went so far that his brothers could never find them.
"You are too smart," his brothers told him, "but it is only because you have the magic 
jawbone of our 
grandfather.
Why don't you lend it to us?"
"It is mine," Maui said. "Our grandfather gave it to me, not to you. I have other 
magic, too."
"You have only the jawbone!" His brothers laughed at him.
"Have you not noticed how often I go into the forest?" Maui asked. "I talk to the 
birds and all the 
creatures. I know
what they say. They have given me magic, too. I have much magic," he said.
"If you have so much magic," his eldest brother said, "why don't you make the sun go 
slowly across 
the sky. He
hurries across the sky so fast that we can work for only a short time. As for play, we 
have to play 
most of our games
in the dark. Try your magic on the sun!" he jeered.
"Very well," Maui said. "We shall catch the sun and make him go slowly. Yes, that is a 
good idea. We 
shall have
plenty of time to work and play then."
His brothers laughed again. "Even you can't do that!" they said.
Maui held the magic jawbone in his hand. "Follow me." he said. "We shall get some flax 
and make a 
Strong rope. We shall tangle the sun in the rope and hold him fast. "
"He will burn us all up!" the brothers murmured, but they followed Maui because he 
held the magic 
jawbone in his
hand.
They plaited a long, flax rope. "We will wait no longer," Maui said. "We will go now."
They walked and walked and walked towards the place where the sun rose. Maui held 
tightly to the 
magic jawbone.
Before they reached the spot the sun was beginning to rise. The brothers hid all day. 
As the sun 
crossed the sky
quickly, it was soon night again. Then the brothers walked on.
When they reached the place where the sun would
rise again, they built a clay wall and covered it with green branches. At each end of 
this wall they 
made holes big
enough for them to hide in. Maui hid in one hole and the brothers hid in the other. 
They pulled more 
branches over the
holes.
The brothers were very frightened as they held the rope and waited for the sun to 
rise. Maui, holding 
the rope at the
other end, was not at all afraid because he still held the magic jawbone that his 
grandfather had 
given him.
Soon the sun came up. They waited until his head and shoulders were showing and then 
they all tugged 
on the rope.
The sun was very angry as he felt himself tangled tightly in the rope. He struggled 
and struggled but 
the rope got tighter and tighter. Pulling on the rope with his hands he tried to break 
it but the rope was too 
strong.
Then the sun yelled and roared with rage and pain.
The brothers trembled as they heard him but Maui left his hiding place and running 
towards the sun he 
cracked the
jawbone down on the sun's head. He hit him again and again, harder and harder. The sun 
cried out in 
pain. At last he
toppled over, his head on his knees. "Stop! Stop!" he begged.
Maui saw how weak the sun was. "Now we can leave him," he said.
From that day the sun has gone slowly across the sky. In summer the days are very long 
indeed. Even 
in the winter
there is plenty of time for work and play.
a Maori Fable retold by MARIE INSLEY drawing by NAN REID

Tales of the Hodja
The Hodja is a popular comic figure in the folklore of Greece, the Middle East, and 
the Balkans. "Hodja" is an honorary title meaning a scholar

The Hodja went to the bazaar and chose a pair of trousers. 
The merchant had already made a parcel of them when the Hodja changed his mind, and 
decided that he 
was more in
need of a light cloak.
"Give me a cloak instead," he told the merchant, and when the parcel was ready, he 
picked it up and 
walked off.
"Effendi," called out the merchant, "you have not paid me for the cloak!"
"But I left you the trousers for it," replied the Hodja.
"But you did not pay for the trousers," said the merchant.
"I should think not!" said the Hodja. "Why should I pay for trousers I did not take?"
One day the Hodja was asked: "How is it that as soon as day breaks and people get up, 
some go off in one direction, and some in 
others?"
"If everybody went off in one
direction," said the Hodja, "the earth would tip over."
The Hodja was walking home with a fine piece of liver when he met a
friend.
 "How are you going to cook that liver?" asked his friend.
 "The usual way," said the Hodja.
 "That way it has no taste," said
the other. "I have a very special way 
of preparing a very tasty meal with liver. Listen, and I'll explain."
 "I am bound to forget it, if you tell
me," said the Hodja. "Write it down
on a piece of paper."
 The friend wrote out the instructions, and gave them to the Hodja, who continued his 
way home. Before
he arrived at his door, however, a
large crow swooped down, seized the
liver in its claws, and flew high up
into the sky with it.
 "It won't do you any good, you
rogue!" shouted the Hodja, triumphantly waving the piece of paper.
"I've got the recipe here."
One day the Hodja visited a village not far from Ak-Shehir. As he was walking through 
the village, a 
man came up to
him and said: "Effendi, what day is today?"
"I am a stranger here," replied the Hodja, "you must ask one of the local 
inhabitants."
When his days were up and the Hodja, very old, lay on his death-bed, he said to his 
wife:
"Why are you dressed in black, with a tearful face and your hair all awry? Go and put 
on your gayest 
clothes, do your
hair properly, and smile!"
"Hodja," wept his wife, "how can you ask me to do this? You are very ill, and I 
respect you."
"That is why I ask you to do it," replied the Hodja. "The Angel of Death will be here 
any minute. If 
he sees you in all
your finery, dressed like a peacock, he may leave me and take you instead!"
And, with a chuckle the Hodja died.
retold by CHARLES DOWNING illustrated by NAN REID

Mustering

As Paul walked over to the stables in the early dawn, he felt excited. 
Holidays had begun, and he was looking forward
to being a real shepherd with a whistle and two dogs and a pony of his own. 
just as he leaped over the gates, his
father came into the yard, leading two horses, saddled and ready. "You're a 
bit late, shepherd," he called, as he
hitched the reins round a post. But he was only teasing, and Paul laughed.
"Looks like a nice warm day, Boss," he said, pretending to be one of the 
men.
"Skip over and open all the yard gates, will you, while I let the dogs go?" 
Paul ran, jumping the railings as he went.
Everything was fun this morning. As they rode out of the yards, Paul's own 
special dogs, Dane and Scamp, came
leaping and barking beside him. They cantered along for about half a mile, 
till at the big gum tree Paul pulled up. His
father turned around in his saddle and grinned at him. "What comes first?" 
he asked.
"Open the gate wide back, and prop it with the stone."
"Yes, don't forget that. Then?"
"Circle round to the side the sheep are not on. Then send Dane the other 
way, and keep Scamp with me and head
towards the gully. I'll come up the far-away face to the gate." 
"Good. Is there anything else?"
"What about the tally?"
"Hmmm, yes." His father thought a moment. "You bring your mob up to the red 
gate and I'll meet you there with
mine. We can count them through together then. Will that do?"
"Nice work, Boss," said Paul, pretending again. He flicked the reins, and the cream pony went into a 
slow canter,
scattering the dry gum leaves on the ground as she went. Across the 30-acre paddock he rode, and then into Fell Flat.
Here Paul opened the gate wide, riding up to it sideways and making the pony push it with her 
shoulder. He
remembered about the stone, too.
It was a still morning with no wind, and warm already, although the sun was just beginning to rise. 
The grass was so
dry it was matted and bristly, and the earth was laced with cracks in the bare patches.
As most of the sheep were down the left face of the gully in the scrubby patches of fern and manuka, 
Paul decided to
keep both the dogs by him while he rode down the fence line to muster in the stragglers first. There 
was no cantering
now. He rode slowly and quietly and kept the dogs close at heel. Soon he had two or three ewes moving 
steadily
along in front of him, and the others that were feeding about stopped snatching at the grass and 
ambled over to join
the mob.
When he was getting down towards the end of the paddock, he sent Dane on ahead. She stopped about 20 yards from the fence to 
face the mob, barking and making short runs up and down. At a soft whistle from Paul, Scamp leapt out from her place at the 
pony's heels and ran swiftly around the mob and back. Darting in with short 
sharp barks at
the stragglers on the edge of the bunch, she circled them twice. The sheep pattered along quickly, 
pushing each
other forward and pressing in together.
With Dane making a din by the fence and Scamp snapping at lazy heels behind, there was nowhere for 
the sheep to
go but downhill to the left. That was just what Paul had
planned. Down they clattered, baa-ing loudly, hooves clicking, raising clouds of dust from the baked 
ground. There, at
the bottom, was sturdy old Dane, barking and barking, so that again there was only one place left to 
go, and there the
sheep went-straight up the gully, pushing in together still, their backs like a crazy, billowing 
floor.
Now the two dogs went scuttling up the sides of the gully, darting in and out of the scrub. Beginning 
high up on the
edges and working downwards, they caused the top sheep moving down to startle the others into action. 
Behind the
mob Paul rode quietly, watching the dogs, and keeping a keen eye to the scrub patches for any strays 
that might
have been missed.
Suddenly the pony pricked up her ears and stopped dead. Paul jerked upright in the saddle. He knew 
that noise. A
soft, rubbly sound - pellets of the baked clay, falling, falling. Then almost at once it was a 
thundering avalanche of soil and stones and bushes, rumbling and roaring down on the startled sheep. Through the dust as he 
galloped Paul could
see them leaping, scattering, pushing, in a frenzy of fear; bleating in a deafening din that was 
increased by the
barking of the dogs. The dogs were afraid, too, but they still obeyed Paul.
Dane raced to the head of the scattering mob to lead them up the floor of the gully towards the red 
gate. Scamp
seemed to be everywhere at once, darting and snapping to keep the terrified sheep close in together. 
Across the rear
of the mob Paul rode, waving his arms and yelling to urge them on.
It took only a few minutes to pass the slip and bring the mob up into safety by the gate, but to Paul 
it had seemed
hours. He was feeling worried still, so he placed the two dogs to hold the sheep, now quivering and panting, and stamping 
nervously, before he galloped back to see if all was clear. It was as well he did, because a 
weak bleat drew
his attention to an old ewe that had been caught in the slip.
It was pushed against the trunk of a cabbage-tree by the weight of earth and stones piled up behind 
it. Jumping from the horse, he crept up quietly, trying not to frighten the wild-eyed animal any more. He walked as 
far around it as he
could, thinking very hard.
Using a piece of hard, strong bark, he stood well above the sheep, and shovelled the earth away in 
front of him,
making a sort of ditch. As it grew slowly deeper, he stepped into it to stop the crumbling soil from 
sliding down again.
The soil was heavy on his legs, and it was hard work shovelling with hands and bark, scraping and 
digging, but he
stuck at it.
Soon, as he lessened the weight on the sheep, it felt the earth loosening and began to struggle to 
help itself. It panted and jerked and pounded with its feet, and, at last, heaved up and away from the tree. For a 
moment it stood
trembling, and then flopped on its side, its short legs waving helplessly. Twisting his fingers into 
the thick wool, Paul
hauled and tugged.
"Now come on, you old silly. Up she rises! Up-and-up! There! Now you stay on your legs, sheep." He 
gave it a push
that sent it scrambling up to join the mob.
By the time Paul had ridden up after it, he found his father already at the gate, counting his own 
muster through while
he waited. Without interrupting, Paul stood beside him, pretending to count too, and looking very serious as he tried to remember 
how to look at three sheep and count one. He gave it up in the end, and counted instead 
the number of
times his father called out, "Tally". Then Paul would bend one finger down in his palm. "Tally" meant one hundred, and he had 
five fingers bent before the dogs brought the last sheep through.
His father shut the gate, and said, "Well done, my big shepherd. The tally checks and it was a clean 
muster. Any
trouble ?"
"A slip came down. Only a small one. I wasn't scared." Paul grinned. "One old ewe was caught by a 
tree. I was a
rescue squad, and I dug her out."
"Good work, I'll ride back and see it after breakfast. Feeling hungry?"
"Hungry!" said Paul. "I'm going to eat a bucket of porridge and a dozen chops for my breakfast." He whistled happily as they 
began to yard up the bleating mob at the woolshed.
by E. M. DOWRICK illustrated by COLIN WHEELER


The Hurricane

Pele couldn't remember when he had last seen such an angry sea. It was frightening to watch, and yet 
he couldn't
take his eyes away from it. The wind screamed off the sea, taking with it the heavy spray that 
reached Pele high
above the reef. The weather had been steadily getting worse for the last couple of days. Sometime 
during the night he
got up to help his father fix the roof of the eating house, which had become loose and had to be 
repaired before the
whole thing blew away. He suddenly realised that it had started to rain, and he was nearly wet 
through. Quickly he
moved off towards the house. His young brother Josepa was playing on the mat with his baby sister 
Joanne; both
were having good fun. He called to Manogi, his mother, "The sea is still rough. Father won't be able to go fishing today either."
"Perhaps," she said, "the storm will blow itself out tonight." This was the time of the year for strong winds, and plenty of rain. 
The old people called it "the hurricane season", and it lasted from about November to February or March.
Manogi told him to go and help his father whom she could see coming down the road loaded with food, and then to have his 
bath.
The rain was not quite so heavy when Pele and Josepa went round to the back of the house, where they 
were
sheltered from the strong wind. There was only enough soap for Josepa to have his bath, so Pele found 
himself a nice
flat smooth stone; and soon they were having their bath, jumping around in the rain. The children of 
the Islands love
having their baths in the open, with the soft cooling rain pouring over their bodies. They use stones, just as New Zealand children 
use soap, and although it is not as good it gives them a nice tingling 
feeling all over.
From the sounds of laughter that were coming from next door, Pele thought that Tama and Miki, his friends, were enjoying their 
baths too.
When tea was over they all decided to have an early night. The rain was now coming down very heavily, and the wind seemed to 
have increased in strength. Josepa and Joanne; were already settled for the night. Just then there was a loud hammering on the 
door and a voice called loudly, "Harry, Harry."
It was the village policeman, soaked through and carrying a lantern. Harry was the name of Pele's 
father. "You must
take your boat to higher ground," he said. "The sea
has almost reached the second level and it will be completely covered by the full tide. Hurry up 
now," he said, "I
must go and warn some of the others."
Harry lit his lamp and went outside, where he was joined by several of his neighbours. Together they 
struggled
through the wind, down the track to where they kept their boats.
It was pitch dark except for the many lanterns which flickered along the ledges high above the reef. 
Men were tying
the boats and launches together under the  cargo sheds. As they shouted to each other their voices 
were swallowed
up by the wind, which was now blowing with great force.
Harry had trouble in carrying his canoe up the cliff track, as the wind knocked him around and the 
rain blinded him.
He was a little happier when he reached the top, and had his boat safe and snug and well-covered with branches. He wasted no 
time getting home. Taking a last look at the roof of his eating house to see that it was 
standing up to the
weather, he locked up for the night.
In spite of the wind and heavy rain, the family slept well. From what Pele could see and hear, there 
seemed very little
change in the weather, except that perhaps it wasn't raining quite so heavily.
As soon as he had finished his breakfast, and done his early morning chores, he was ready for school. 
The place was
in a mess outside; small branches of trees, coconut tree leaves and coconuts littered the place. Pele 
listened to his
mother, who warned him to be careful; then set off for school.
The village school was only about a hundred yards down the road, but before he got there his clothes 
were plastered to his body. The wind whipped him as he struggled to reach the shelter of the school.
The school grounds were also in a mess: there was rubbish everywhere, floating around in great pools 
of water. The
classroom was hardly any better. The rain had poured in through the ventilators, and the wind had 
scattered the
display charts all over the place. They were a sodden pulpy mass, and would not be of any further use 
to the class.
The children just milled around and the teachers wandered from room to room, talking to each other as 
though they
did not know what to do.
 About thirty minutes later, there was a general assembly, and an announcement was made. School was 
to be
closed, and all children were to return home. There had been a hurricane warning, and the full force of the storm was due to 
strike the Island at three p.m. The children would not
only be safer at home, but they also would be able to help their parents.
As Pele fought his way home he thought about something his grandmother had once told him. Their 
island was on
the edge of the hurricane belt, and they did have a hurricane once, but it was about 20 years ago. 
His mother had
been very young at the time and she could not remember anything about it. Suddenly he felt very 
frightened, but he
didn't know why, as he couldn't even imagine what it would be like. There was only one thing he knew: 
it could cause
a lot of damage.
His father and mother had stacked coconut leaves all round the house, and were putting long logs 
against the edge of
the roof. This would give some protection against the terrible winds which they were to expect as the 
hurricane drew
near.
Pele looked at his house. It was small, with only two rooms, and not really very strongly built. Some 
of the houses
had iron roofs. Others, like Pele's, were of thatch; but all the homes were built from punga. This was a kind of lime which was 
dug out of the ground, then put into great mounds, covered with logs and set alight. The fire would be kept
going for several days, by adding more and more logs. The punga was then allowed to cool and was spread like cement over thin 
strips of wood. This made up the walls of the house. The house had stood up to many storms, but Pele wondered what it would 
be like when winds of up to a hundred miles an hour struck the island.
Pele's mother called to him to collect the food from the cooking house, to fill the lamps and the 
primus stove, and to
see that there was a supply of water in the house.
The wind had increased in strength still further, and, although Manogi was shouting, her voice was 
being carried away
by the wind. Branches of trees and all sorts of rubbish were being hurtled across the yard. The 
coconut trees swayed
violently, hurling their coconuts about the place. Pele could hardly fight his way through the wind 
and sheets of rain
as he dodged to safety between the trees to the house.
The children inside the house were crying and seemed frightened. Pele felt sorry for them, but there 
was little he
could do. He had still such a lot of work to do. He hurried outside to help his father, who was 
cutting the tops off the
banana trees. This way, there would be a chance that the shoots would survive, and not be uprooted by 
the wind.
Just then, Tama, his friend from the village, came calling out to his father. The sea had risen much 
higher than they
had thought possible, and the canoes were no longer safe. All the fishermen would have to take them 
to higher
ground. Harry needed no second telling, and, joined by Pele, he was soon struggling through the storm.
After what seemed an age, they reached the top of the cliff. Here now they could really feel the full 
force of the wind. It
was unbelievable. Pele sat crouched under a tree while his father went down for his canoe. He was 
terribly frightened,
but couldn't take his eyes away from the sea. He had never seen anything like it. The waves were 
simply
mountainous as they battered the cliffs. The clouds were so low they seemed to lie right on top of 
the sea, and it was
only at the reef's edge that the surging foam of the water could be seen at all.
As he stood up to help his father, he felt the salt foam whipping sharply on his face, and he could 
see the sea only a
few feet away from him. It was hard to believe that normally he would be standing 80 feet above the 
level of the reef.
Pele and his father carried the canoe home and put it against the back of the house, covering it with 
small branches
and coconut palm leaves until it was almost buried. They could stay outside no longer, as all sorts 
of objects were
flying about the place. So, with one last look at the house to see that everything was tied down, 
Pele and his father
went inside. It was only then that they realised how terribly tired they were. They sat on their mats 
and ate some of
the food that Manogi had put out for them. Manogi had lit the lamps because, with the door and 
windows covered up,
it was quite dark. They had no idea what the time was, but they thought that it would be about midday.
Joanne was asleep, but Josepa lay on his mat, his eyes wide with fear. He kept edging close to his 
mother as flying
branches were hurtled against the house with each gust. The wind shrieked outside and it seemed as 
though the
house would be lifted off its foundation. "Would this ever stop?" thought Pele, as he sat beside his 
father on his mat.
The wind seemed to be blowing differently now. It would blow at the same strength for many minutes, 
then suddenly
there would be a terrific gust. It seemed to explode and shake the house.
Manogi echoed Pele's thoughts: "Please, would it never end?" She thought about her little girl 
Telisa, who was
staying with friends over on the other side of the island, and hoped that she would be safe. Just then, there was the most 
tremendous roar as something crashed into the back of the house. The children were now awake and crying in terror. Manogi 
tried to quieten them, as Harry ran to the room at the back of the house to see what 
had happened. As soon as he opened the door, he was met by the storm. He stared in horror at what was left of his room. just two 
walls remained,
the rest had been crushed by a coconut tree which had been uprooted and had crashed down on the roof. 
His first
thought was for the safety of his family. He tried not to show them how frightened he was. He 
barricaded the door as
well as possible, but he knew that if the storm lasted much longer the house would topple down all 
round them.
The rain now poured into the living room and soon they were wet through. "What shall we do?" thought 
Harry. He was
so worried that he didn't hear Pele call to him, until, suddenly, he knew something had happened - but 
what? He was
scared, but didn't know why. He listened, but couldn't hear anything, not even the wind.
"The wind, the wind," he thought. "That's it-the storm. It's over!"
There was nothing to hear, but the steady fall of the rain. Pele was shouting and dancing around. 
"It's over! It's over!"
he kept shouting.
They all looked at each other and started to laugh, throwing their arms around each other in their 
relief.
"I must go outside to see what has happened," said Harry. He picked up a lamp, and was followed by the rest of the family. Soon 
they were joined by other bewildered villagers, all talking together. It was darkish 
outside, but there was
a lot of damage to be seen. There was hardly a complete house left standing. There was desolation 
everywhere.
Some of the men decided to try to make shelters for the night, where their families would at least be 
dry.
Harry had another look at his house, or what was left of it, and decided that they would go down to 
the village church,
and stay there for the rest of the night. He collected what was dry, and whatever else they would 
need, and off they
went.
The village church was only a hundred yards across the village green, but they were wet through in a matter of minutes. The 
ground was littered with 
uprooted trees. Branches
and roots lay everywhere.
There were several families already in the church when they arrived. Although several parts of the 
church were quite
wet, they found themselves a nice dry spot, and settled down for what remained of the night.
It seemed to Pele that he had just closed his eyes, when he was awakened by a most fantastic roar and 
tremendous
crash, as part of the roof was torn off and blown away as though it was a kite.
They all started to shout and call to one another, but their voices were lost in the wind. It had 
become very dark, and
the wind and rain had become worse than ever before.
The storm seemed to be coming from a different direction too. Pele was too frightened to move.
There was a loud banging on the door and it crashed open with the weight of about a dozen people. 
Terrified, and with
exhausted children clutching to them, they staggered inside, crying loudly, "It's the eye! It's the 
eye! We shall never
make it!" Everyone was talking at the same time, and Pele didn't understand what it was all about.
Huddled up in a corner, an old man tried to explain to them. When the storm passed over the island, 
the winds got
stronger and stronger until it seemed as though everything was going to explode with the great force 
of the wind. Then
suddenly came the centre, or "eye" of the storm, bringing the uncanny quietness. This usually lasted 
about half-an-hour, until the "eye" had passed over. Then the other half of the storm started coming from a 
different direction. It
seemed to strike with a greater force than ever before, then it slowly died down, as the hurricane 
moved away. This
was what was happening now, explained the old man.
The villagers seemed a little less frightened now, and the children had cried themselves to sleep. 
Pele looked at his
mother who gave him a little smile. Outside everything raged. There were only two sounds. The moaning 
of the people, and the continual unbelievable roaring of the wind as it lifted uprooted trees and hurtled 
them against the walls
of the church.
This went on during the night, as the little band of people sat shivering in their wet clothes. At 
last they fell into an
exhausted sleep, as the fury of the storm slowly died away.
It was dawn before anyone awoke, and in groups they staggered outside to see the extent of the damage. Sheets of iron from the 
roofing of the church were wrapped round the trees which 
were left standing. Each looked like a sheet
of paper around a parcel. Uprooted trees were scattered around like spilt 
matches. The hurricane had destroyed many
homes, leaving some of them with only their foundations. Coconuts were 
lying everywhere. Paw paw, breadfruit,
banana - trees and fruit were all gone.
The women wept, as they tried to salvage what they could from the wreckage 
of their homes. Some had lost everything -everything but the clothes they were wearing.
Harry put his arm round Manogi's shoulders as they stood silently looking 
at what was left of their home. "Come," he
said, "there is much work to be done."
The new shoots were starting in the early morning sun.
Straight and green, they were already sprouting from the banana trees 
which had been saved, because Harry had
stripped their leaves off when the storm first started.
News began to come in from the nearby villages, and conditions were 
almost the same in all of them. The people
themselves were shocked, but fit and well. Their precious water supply 
was unfit to drink. The salt spray had got into
their tanks. Water from the one deep well on the island would have to be 
rationed to each village, and then issued to
each household. But they knew that they would not be thirsty. Fallen 
coconuts were lying everywhere, and their milk
was sweet and pure.
Pele stood up to ease his aching back, and looked at the sea which was 
truly magnificent. It was absolutely clear,
shining with brilliant blues and greens. As each huge wave rose high with 
its curling whitecaps, many different colours
appeared above it in the sunlight.
Pele looked all around. Men, women and children were working as never 
before. A group of old men, the elders, were
sitting crossed-legged on what was left of the foundation of a house. 
Pele knew that they were already making plans
to rebuild their island, and be better prepared to face the next 
hurricane.
by CATHERINE J. PHILPOTT
illustrated by GRAHAM PERCY

The Sorcerer's Apprentice

A man found himself in need of a helper for his workshop; and one day as he was walking along the 
outskirts of a
little hamlet, he met a boy with a bundle slung over his shoulder. Stopping him, the man said, "Good 
morning, my
lad. I am looking for an apprentice. Have you a master?"
"No," said the boy, "I have just this morning said goodbye to my mother, and am now off to find 
myself a trade."
"Good," said the man. "You look as though you might be just the lad I need. But wait, do you know 
anything about
reading and writing?"
"Oh, yes!" said the boy.
"Too bad!" said the man. "You won't do after all. I have no use for anyone who can read and write."
"Pardon me," said the boy. "If it was reading and writing you were talking about, I misunderstood 
you. I thought you
asked if I knew anything about eating and fighting-those two things I am able to do well, but I know nothing about reading and 
writing."
"Well!" cried the man. "Then you are just the fellow I want. Come with me to my workshop, and I will 
show you what
to do."
The boy, however, had his wits about him. He could read and write well enough and had only pretended 
to be a fool.
Wondering why a man should prefer to have an unschooled helper, he thought to himself, "There is 
something strange
about this, and I had better keep my eyes and ears open."
While the boy was thinking about this, his new master was leading him into the heart of a deep 
forest. Here in a small
clearing stood a house and, as soon as they entered it,
the boy could see that this was no ordinary workshop.
At one end of a big room was a huge hearth with a copper cauldron hanging over it; at the other end 
was a small
alcove lined with many big books. A mortar and pestle stood on a bench; bottles and sieves, measuring 
scales, and
oddly-shaped glassware were strewn about on the table.
Well! It did not take the clever young apprentice very long to realise that he was working for a 
magician or sorcerer of
some kind, and so, although he pretended to be quite stupid, he kept his eyes and ears open, and 
tried to learn all he
could.
"Sorcery-that is a trade I would dearly love to master!" said the boy to himself, "A mouthful of good 
chants and
charms would never come amiss to a poor fellow like me, and with them I might even be able to do some 
good in the
world."
There were many things the boy had to do. Sometimes he was ordered to stir the evil-smelling broths 
which bubbled
in the big copper cauldron. At other times he had to use the big mortar and pestle to grind herbs and 
berries-and
other things too gruesome to mention. It was also his task to sweep up the workshop, to keep the fire 
burning in the
big hearth, and to gather the strange materials needed by the man for the broths and brews he was 
always mixing.
This went on day after day, week after week, and month after month, until the boy was almost beside 
himself with
curiosity. He was most curious about the thick, heavy books in the alcove. How often he had wondered 
about them,
and how many times had he been tempted to take a peep between their covers! But, remembering that he 
was not
supposed to know how to read or write, he had been wise enough never to show the least interest in 
them. At last
there came a day when he made up his mind to see what
was in them, no matter what the risk.
"I'll try it before another day dawns," he thought.
That night he waited until the Sorcerer was sound asleep and was snoring 
loudly in his bedchamber. Then, creeping
out of his straw couch, the boy took a light into the corner of the 
alcove and began to look through one of the heavy
volumes. What was written in them has never been told, but they were 
books of magic, each and every one of them.
From that time on, the boy read them silently, secretly, for an hour or 
two, night after night. In this way he learned
many magic tricks; chants and charms and countercharms; recipes for 
potions and brews and witches' stews; and
powerful spells of many kinds. All these he memorised carefully, and it 
was not long before he sometimes was able
to work out what kind of charms his master was working, what
brand of potion he was mixing, what sort of stews he was brewing.
And what kind of charms and potions and stews were they? Alas, they were 
all wicked ones! Now the boy knew that
he was not working for an ordinary magician, but for a cruel, dangerous 
sorcerer. And because of this the boy made a plan - a bold one.
He went on with his nightly studies until his head was swarming with magic 
recipes and incantations. He even had
time to work at them in the daytime, for the sorcerer sometimes left the 
workshop for hours-working harm and havoc
on mortals, no doubt. At such times the boy would try out of a few bits of 
his newly-learned wisdom. He began with
simple things, such as changing the cat into a bee and back to a cat again, 
making a viper out of the poker, an imp
out of the broom, and so on. Sometimes he was successful, often he was not; 
so he said to himself, "The time is not yet ripe."
One day, after the sorcerer had again gone forth on one of his mysterious 
trips, the boy hurried through his work, and
had just settled himself in the dingy alcove with one of the conjuring 
books on his knees when the master returned
unexpectedly. The boy, thinking fast, pointed smilingly at one of the 
pictures, after which he quietly closed the book
and went on with his work as though nothing were amiss.
But the sorcerer was not deceived.
"If the wretch can read," he thought, "he may learn how to outwit me. And I 
can't send him off with a beating, for I think he knows too much already, and will reveal all my fine mean tricks, and then I can't 
have any more sport
working mischief on man and beast."
He acted quickly. With one leap he rushed at the boy, who in turn made a 
spring for the door.
"Stop!" cried the sorcerer. "You shall not escape me!" He was about to grab 
the boy by the collar when the quick-witted lad mumbled a powerful incantation by which he changed himself into a bird-and 
whoosh! - he had flown into
the woods.
The sorcerer, not to be outdone, shouted a charm, thus changing himself 
into a larger bird-and whoosh! - he was after
the little bird.
With a new incantation the boy made himself into a fish-and whish! - he was 
swimming across a big pond.
But the master was equal to this, for with a few words he made himself into 
a fish too, a big one, and swam after the
little fish.
At this the boy changed himself into a still bigger fish, but the magician, 
by a master stroke, turned himself into a
tiny kernel of grain and rolled into a small crack in a stone where the 
fish couldn't touch him.
Quickly the boy changed himself into a rooster, and peck, peck, peck!-with 
his sharp beak he snapped at the kernel of
grain and ate it up.
That was the end of the wicked sorcerer, and the boy
 became the owner of the magic workshop. And wasn't it
fine that all the powers and potions which had been used for evil by the 
sorcerer were now in the hands of a bay who
would use them only for the good of man and beast?
Adapted from GRIMMS' FAIRY TALES illustrated by OLGA VOLGER

Fiona

The Runaway
When Mum said to Dad, "Well, we'll have to put up with that brother of yours again," Fiona knew that 
her Uncle Dan must be coming to stay with them.
She was very excited because Uncle Dan told the most terrific stories and he never seemed to make a 
fuss about cleaning your teeth or going to bed early. "Gee," she thought, "everything is
happening at once." Her uncle Dan was coming, and her big brother Brian, who was away at boarding 
school, would also be home for the holidays.
Fiona was not so keen at the thought of Brian coming home. For one thing, he used to tease her and 
call her names like "Fee-fi-fo-fum". But this time she knew that Brian would be too cross with
her even to tease her. It had all happened when she had asked her two friends, Barbara and Sue, to 
play with her one day after school when her mother was out. Fiona had been told that she must
never go into Brian's room unless he was there. Fiona had taken the girls in only to see Brian's 
model aeroplanes. Somehow, one of his planes had dropped on the floor. Fiona had tried to put it
together with some sellotape, but she knew Brian would see it.
So, while her parents were down at the station meeting her brother, Fiona decided to run away. She 
wasn't sure where she would go. If she went down to Barbara's, Barbara's mother would send
her home again. So she went down to the Park. When she got there she made her way to a hidey-hole 
that she had found last holidays. It wasn't very nice being in the Park by herself. She
couldn't hear any children playing on the swings. As it got darker, it began to rain and Fiona began to shiver. The rain made the 
clay very sticky and Fiona was scared that she 
might slip down into the creek.
Her tummy kept reminding her that she hadn't had anything to eat since lunchtime. She began to 
remember the lovely pavlova and chocolate eclairs that her mother had made for Uncle Dan. Fiona
thought, "What if Uncle Dan came and she missed out on seeing him?"
The rain began to fall very heavily, so Fiona decided that she had better go home, even though she knew that she was going to 
get into trouble. When she got to the end of the street, she saw that her father was waiting for her at their front gate. He hurried to 
meet her and said, "Where have you been, I've been looking all over the place for you?" 
Fiona didn't say a word, but just followed her father up to the front gate, where she could see her mother waiting for her. Her 
mother said, "Take your coat off and get straight into bed, young lady."
Fiona said, "Please let me stay up until Uncle Dan comes."
Her mother replied, "You should have thought of that before you went into Brian's room and touched his things."
Poor Fiona began to cry all the way up the passage to her bedroom. She quickly got into bed, wishing all the time that she hadn't 
run away, but had waited around for Uncle Dan to come.

The Golden Swan
Fiona had cried herself to sleep, so you can imagine how surprised she was to hear a voice whisper in 
her car, "Good-day, Twopence. What's this I hear about your running away? I was really sad when I didn't have my favourite girl 
to meet me."
Fiona could hardly believe that she was awake. But there was Uncle Dan sitting down at the edge of 
her bed. He passed her a lolly. Then he said, "Get your 'grinders' into that lot and I'll tell you a
story before you go off to sleep again."
Before he began his story, he passed his handkerchief over to Fiona and told her to have a good blow. 
Then he said, "If you don't stop crying, you'll wake the whole house up. Your Dad might even
put me over his knee and give me a tap with the strap." At this Fiona had to stop crying and have a 
little laugh to herself.
Then Uncle Dan began his story:
"Fiona, you know when you come down to stay at my place I've often shown you my gold-pan and shovel?" 
Fiona nodded her head. From what she could remember, the pan was something like
the strainer that Mum used to
strain the vegetables in.
Uncle Dan went on: "Well, about ten years ago, I was with one of my friends over on the Coast, at a 
beach miles from anywhere. We were trying to see if we could find some gold. We'd heard that
when this river flooded, gold had been found.
"One night, we had got into our sleeping bags and were very snug in our little tent, when suddenly I heard this noise. You know 
that I always sleep with one ear cocked up, like an old sheep dog. I sat up and listened again. Then I said to myself, 'Danny, old 
boy, there's something out there and it 
sounds like a two-footed animal to me.' Then I went over to open the tent flap to get a better
look.
"A face appeared at the tent. I was just going to let out a yell that you could have heard at the 
South Pole when the face started to speak, 'You haven't got a bite of food you could spare? My hut
along the beach has been flooded and all my food supplies have got wet.'
"By this time my heart had stopped thumping and I said to him, 'Sure, mate, but why didn't you yell 
out ... You've just about turned my hair white with fright.' "
Uncle Dan went on with his story. "That old man's name was Jock-a Scottish name for John or Jack. He 
told me that he had been living in this hut for about 50 years. He used to do a bit of carving,
using pieces of driftwood he had found on the beach. Although, mind you, it took me ages to get him 
to say anything about himself. I'm so used to talkative types like you and Brian.
"We had a cup of tea together and then I made him some scrambled eggs in the bottom of an old billy. 
Old Jock took to those eggs as though he hadn't seen food for a year. You know what
Brian's like when he comes home for the school holidays and gets cracking on your mother's cooking. 
Well, if you can imagine what Brian would be like if he came home after having had nothing
to eat for a fortnight, you'll have some idea of how Jock 'wolfed' down that food.
"Then Jock disappeared down the beach as quietly as he had come. I was a bit cross, as he could have 
at least helped with the dishes. I picked up the plates and I was just going to cross over
to wash them, when I tripped on something on the ground. I bent down - and do you know what I found? 
The most beautiful piece of driftwood carved in the shape of a swan. Dotted all over the long
neck and body, like hundreds and thousands on a birthday cake, were tiny glittering specks of gold dust.
"So you see, I really had struck it lucky after all. I'll leave the swan on your dressing table so 
that you'll see it first thing in the morning. Night-night, Fiona."
Before Fiona had closed her eyes, she looked at the swan and then she sat up and whispered, 
"Goodnight, Golden Swan, I bet all the kids at school would like to have you."
She didn't forget how Uncle Dan had made her so happy, so she said, "Good night, Uncle Dan, see you in the morning."
Then she snuggled down and, before you could say "Golden Swan", Fiona was fast asleep.

The Gonk Family
Every morning Uncle Dan would wake Fiona up by playing his special "Getting Fiona out of Bed" music. 
He would rattle two saucepan lids together outside her door. If that didn't wake her, he
would creep into her room and whisper, "Wakey-wakey, rise and shine."
When he said, "Come and get it," Fiona knew that this meant that she had better get up mighty 
quickly, if she wanted any breakfast.
Fiona hurried out of bed, put on her dressing gown and slippers. Then she tip-toed past Brian's room 
into the kitchen.
Uncle Dan gave her his special good-morning wink and then he said, "Twopence, would you like to break 
the eggs into the pan for me?" Fiona carefully tapped the side of the egg and, very gently,
as she had watched Uncle Dan do hundreds of times, she slipped the egg into the spluttering fat. 
Uncle Dan said, "That's right, now hurry up and cut the bread. Are you going to have lions' tails or
elephants' teeth?" 
Fiona decided that she would have lions' tails and, when he had cut the bread, Uncle Dan put it into the frying pan on the stove.
Soon they were sitting down at the breakfast table. Uncle Dan let Fiona pour the tea. He never made 
her drink milk,
but let her have some of his special brew that he called "Shearer's Tea". 
It was very black, and Fiona put so much
sugar into it that Uncle Dan said that she could almost stand her 
tea-spoon up in it.
After they had finished drinking their tea, Uncle Dan would read Fiona's 
tea-cup. She would hurry and drink every
drop. Today Uncle Dan stared and stared at the bottom of her cup. "Ah," 
he said, "you're going to have some funny
adventures with a family called the Gonks. Let's see who lives in the 
Gonk family. If you go very quietly into the
sewing-room and take Mum's scissors out of the machine drawer, I'll make 
some new friends for you."
When Uncle Dan had cut out a little Gonk figure, Fiona said, "Gee, it 
looks like Humpty Dumpty." However, she soon
changed her mind when she saw Grandma Gonk. She had her hair done up in a 
bun and she wore a black frock.
She even had a black shopping bag where she kept her
knitting, and a bag of lollies to give to the Gonk children if
they were good.  
In a moment Uncle Dan had cut a little playmate for Fiona; her name was 
Gloria Gonk. He let her tell him what sort of
clothes she thought Gloria might wear, as he wasn't sure what little girls 
liked to wear. Fiona suggested a pair of warm
tartan slacks, a warm red jersey and a pair of jandals.
Knowing how Brian was always teasing Fiona, Uncle Dan wanted to know if she 
would like Gloria to have a big
brother. Fiona thought that this would be a good idea. Then Uncle Dan cut 
out a big brother for Gloria. They dressed
him up in a pair of blue jeans and a very bright blue shirt. Fiona 
discovered that he didn't go to boarding school like
Brian. Instead he helped his father on a big sheep farm.
Fiona was just a bit jealous of Gloria, because she had a dear little baby 
sister which all the Gonk family called "Bubs".
 Suddenly she found her real brother, Brian, standing next to her in the kitchen. Brian said to her, "Gee, Fe-fi-fo-fum, I thought 
you had stopped playing with paper dolls."
 But he had to keep quiet, because Uncle Dan gave him a
 look which Brian knew meant that, if he didn't stop teasing
Fiona he would "get a good belting".
Then Uncle Dan said to Fiona, "Fiona, you hurry up and get dressed so that 
you can play with your new friends."
While he was saying this, he got a piece of brown paper and folded it 
across, making a lovely cover for the Gonk
Family.
Fiona ran down the passage to her room. She didn't dawdle because she knew 
that, with Uncle Dan here, she might
have some exciting adventures with her new friends. As you will find out, she did.

Glow-worm Land
Even though it wasn't a school day, Fiona was up pretty early because she was going on a picnic with 
Gloria. She was going to pack some sandwiches and a bottle of orange into her suitcase
and spend the day over at the Park.
Fiona was hoping for a fine day. So you can imagine that as soon as she jumped out of bed she went 
across to the window to pull the blind up and see if the sun was shining. It was a lovely day
and the sun seemed to say:
"Gloria and Fiona come out to play, Because I'm giving you a sunny day."
When Fiona went into the kitchen, she found Uncle Dan getting breakfast. Fiona's mother was busy 
making sandwiches for the picnic. Uncle Dan gave Fiona his special good-morning wink, then
he said, "How are you today, Twopence? All set for the big adventure?"
"Yes, thanks, Uncle Dan," Fiona replied. "But I wish that you were coming with us."
Then Uncle Dan said, "Well, you know that I would love to come; but I feel that, seeing you and Gloria 
just met each other yesterday, it's best that you go out by yourselves today."
In no time at all, Fiona was dressed and ready to go to the Park. She carefully put Gloria in the top 
of her suitcase, said goodbye to Uncle Dan and her Mother, then set off. When they reached
the Park, Fiona and Gloria didn't take the path to the Children's Playground. Instead, they took the 
track to the Glow-worm Caves. Fiona wasn't quite sure where to go, but Gloria had been there
before with her Grandma.
Gloria showed Fiona the entrance to a little cave. At first Fiona was a bit scared. It seemed so dark 
that she wished that she had brought Brian's torch with her.
Suddenly, as though someone had turned on a giant electric light switch, she saw that there were 
thousands of lights all around her. Gosh, it was lovely! Gloria was pleased that she liked it.
They seemed to walk for ages, and all the way the little
glow-worms shone brightly so that the girls could see where they were going.
Gloria showed Fiona a ledge where she could leave her
suit-case. They were going to come back there to have lunch. Then they went further on until they 
came to a stream. It tumbled down the rocks into a paddling pool.
They took their jandals off and sat at the edge of the pool, dangling their legs. My, the water was 
cool! It was very quiet, except when the girls talked or laughed. But even the quietest sound was picked up by a cheeky echo.
When Fiona said, "Let's have lunch," dozens of voices seemed to shout back, "Let's have lunch."
Fiona wanted to shout back, "I'd like to ask you all to lunch, but I don't think we will have enough to eat."
Then the girls went back to where they had left the suitcase. Fiona thought that ham sandwiches and orange drink had never 
tasted so good.
After they had finished their lunch, they went back to the pool to paddle for a while. Gloria thought that they had better be 
getting back home, as she had promised her Grandma that she wouldn't be
very long. So the two girls tip-toed back through the glowing Glow-worm Cave until they came to the track.
When they were passing the playground, Fiona saw her friend Barbara on the swings.
Barbara called out, "Where have you been by yourself this morning?"
Fiona replied, "Gloria and I have been to have lunch in the Glow-worm Cave."
Barbara just giggled and said, "You are a silly. I can't see any Gloria and there's no Glow-worm's Cave in the Park."
But Fiona knew that there was, and she knew something that Barbara Kerr didn't know. Tomorrow she would be able to play 
with 
Gloria again, and perhaps this time Uncle Dan would come too.
by ANNE MERRICK
illustrated by CONRAD FRIEBOE

My Lord Bag of Rice

Every land has its stories of heroes who slew wicked giants and evil 
monsters that roamed the countryside. The
Japanese tell tales of Hidesato, who also had the queer name of "My Lord 
Bag of Rice". This is how he received
such a strange name.
One day Hidesato had to cross a river near Lake Biwa. As he came on to the 
bridge he saw that a huge dragon was
lying sprawled across it. Hidesato stopped and considered for a moment. The 
next bridge was miles away. True, he
had never seen a dragon before, but he had killed other savage monsters and 
he was not afraid of this one. He
loosened his sword in its sheath and stepped forward. The dragon did not 
move as Hidesato walked across the
bridge, even when he had to step over its long tail.
Just as Hidesato reached the far end of the bridge, he heard a voice behind him, and 
he turned round to find that the dragon had vanished. Instead, a rather queer-looking 
man with a dragon crown of gold stood there. "Good day," he said. "I am the King of 
Lake Biwa. Would you mind telling me your name, sir?"
"I am Hidesato," said the young man, "But where is the dragon?"
"Hidesato, I have heard of your deeds," said the King, "and I am glad to 
see that you have your sword and your bow
and arrows. I was the dragon. A man who is brave

1. Pronounced: He-day-SAH-toe.


enough to walk over me in my dragon shape is the sort of warrior I need to help me." 
He laughed 
softly. "It would
surprise you to know how many fine lords and soldiers have looked at me and then 
decided to use the 
other bridge."
"What is your trouble?" asked Hidesato. "If there is any way I can help you, I will 
certainly do so."
"I want you to kill a centipede," said the King. "You smile, but you have never seen a 
centipede like 
this. It is four
times as high as a man, and many, many yards long. It lives in a cave on that 
mountain, and each 
night it comes
down to the lake and carries off one or more of my subjects to eat. We have no 
weapons, and we are 
helpless
against it."
"I will meet the creature tonight," Hidesato said quietly.
"Good," said the King. "Let us go to my palace where you can eat and rest after your 
journey." 
Together they walked
to the lake, and down through the cool waters to the King's palace where they were 
greeted by the King's fishy subjects.
After a very pleasant lunch, the King showed Hidesato the beauties of his palace and 
its grounds. 
Then they rested in
a beautiful room where they were entertained by little fish who sang, danced, and did 
juggling tricks before them.
Hidesato thought that the goldfish were the prettiest, as they moved perfectly in time 
to music. But he enjoyed watching all the fish as he lay on cushions and ate flower 
petals coated in sugar, and other unusual sweets.
But he did not forget the task that was before him. He knew that his sword was razor 
sharp. He looked 
over his
arrows very carefully and placed the three best in his quiver. Their steel points 
could not be sharper; the shafts were straight, and the feathers in 
perfect order. They would
fly true when the time came to use them.
When the sun had set, the King said to Hidesato, "The centipede will come soon. It 
will appear over 
that hill. Come
with me and I will show you the track it has made down the valley."
They walked to the edge of the lake and across to the trees that grew nearby. "Look," 
said the King, 
as he pointed to
what looked like a rough road broken through the forest, "that is its path. I shall 
wait here by the 
side of the lake
where the monster can see me. If you hide in those bushes, you will have a good chance 
to shoot as it 
goes past
you."
"That is a good plan," said Hidesato. "You are a brave man to offer yourself as a bait 
and take such 
a chance."
The King smiled. "I trust you to shoot straight," he replied. "I have no weapons or I 
would stand by 
your side." He walked over to the side of the lake, while Hidesato hid behind a clump 
of bamboo.
Time passed slowly. Then Hidesato heard a noise like far-off thunder, and, looking up 
the slope, he 
saw the
centipede. It was nearly dark now, but the centipede's eyes gleamed like searchlights, 
and down each 
of its sides
were shiny patches like lamps in windows. The lights came nearer and nearer, as the 
centipede 
approached through
the forest. Now its head and the front part of its body were in the clear space, and 
Hidesato at last 
realized its size.
Its head was more than twenty feet from the ground, and the lights in its sides showed 
that its body 
stretched for
more than a hundred yards.
The creature fixed its eyes on the King, and moved forward past Hidesato within fifty 
paces of his 
hiding place. Aiming at the place where the head met the body, Hidesato loosed his 
first arrow, only to see 
it fall harmlessly
from the horny scales on the centipede's side.
The centipede turned towards him, opening and closing its terrible pincers. Like a 
flash, Hidesato 
set another arrow to
the string and shot it with all his strength at the monster's head. He saw the sparks 
fly as the 
arrow struck the heavy
bone and glanced off.
Slightly stunned by the shock, the creature stood still for a second or two before it 
moved again, 
straight at Hidesato.
In that time he had his arrow ready. Aiming very carefully, he fired. To his joy, he 
saw the arrow 
bury itself in the
centipede's left eye. He stepped back and drew his sword, but there was no need to use 
it. The 
monster had been
mortally wounded.
The ground shook as it lifted the front part of its body in the air and dashed it down 
again. Trees 
were torn out as it
writhed its long body in pain. Slowly its movements weakened; it beat the ground in a 
final rage; the 
lights in its side
and in its right eye dimmed, and at last died completely. The King came to Hidesato's 
side and 
together they stood
looking at the still form. But there was no movement; the monster would never again be 
a danger.
Next morning the lake presented a queer sight. The news had spread rapidly and 
hundreds of fish had 
come from all
over the lake to see the dead centipede. They swam to the surface, poked out their 
heads, looked at 
the monster for
as long as they were able, and then went below again to breathe.
Hidesato was the King's guest for a week. Every day and night there was feasting, 
music, and dancing 
as the fish
celebrated their release from their enemy. Fish of all kinds-carp and perch, goldfish 
and trout-came 
to thank Hidesato and to bring him presents.
When at last the time came for Hidesato to leave, the King again thanked him for what 
he had done and 
begged him
to accept two gifts. "This magic cooking pot," he said, "is always ready to use, for 
it requires no fuel. This bag of rice is always full. No matter how much is taken out 
of it, the rice remains at the same level. I am sorry 
to see you go,
and hope that some time you may be able to return and visit us again." Then the King 
and all his 
subjects went with
Hidesato to the edge of the water and waved farewell to him.
In later years, when Hidesato married and gave up looking for adventure, these two 
magic gifts were 
his most valued
possessions. He was always ready to use the magic bag when the people of his village 
were short of 
food, and his
nickname "My Lord Bag of Rice" became known all over the country.
Retold by G. D. MOON drawing by VICTOR AMBRUS

Takai! Takai!
The sun was rising steadily in the clear, blue sky. Pele could tell that it was going 
to be another 
beautiful day. The
noise of the surf was tremendous as it crashed down over the reef, and a few storm 
birds were flying 
around. They
would soar high in the sky, then with a quick twist of their bodies they would swoop 
down until they 
almost touched
the water. Then, with a great squawk, they were off again. But they did not disturb 
the boy sitting 
high up on the rock.
He was lost in a world of his own.
The rock was a favourite place of Pele's. He had found it by chance one day when he 
was looking for a 
lost pig.
Somehow he had wandered off the beaten track in the bush, and there it was - a rock to 
sit on. The 
place was
completely sheltered, high above the reef. But it was near enough to his home if 
anyone should call 
out for him. He
had used this place quite often since he had found it over a year before. He would sit 
quite quietly, 
chin resting on
hands, fingertips over his ears. In this way he could shut out the noise of the reef 
or the 
screeching of the birds, and
be alone with his thoughts. Here, he had sorted out many of his problems.
But today he was restless. He had walked up and down, and had thrown small stones into 
a pool in the 
reef which lay
below him. He scratched his head, and even talked aloud to himself, but he still 
seemed no nearer to 
a solution. It did
not seem such a great problem either-all he wanted was the loan of a bicycle. Just for 
twenty-four 
hours, but where
was it going to come from? He had thought of all the possible ways, but without 
success.
There were only a few bicycles on the Island, and most of these would be wanted by the 
farmers who 
used them to
carry home their produce - taro, yams, kumaras and bananas. They would load them up so 
much that they 
needed to make only one trip in every two days. Pele knew that it would be no use 
asking any of his friends, as they would all be just as keen as himself to obtain a 
bicycle.
Suddenly he heard his name being shouted, and he got up and raced down to the house to 
where his 
father was
waiting for him. Together they went down the road to a small plantation. This 
particular plantation 
belonged to Pele's
grandmother, but she had given a small piece of it to his father. Pele's father had 
cleared away the 
rocks, and
cultivated it, and, now grew tapioca and kumaras. They both worked hard for about an 
hour, and soon 
they were
loaded with as much food as they could carry. On these trips Pele and his father would 
usually laugh and joke a lot, tell each other stories, and talk about the things that 
had happened during the day. But, today, Pele just walked quietly along the side of 
the road, kicking up the dust with his bare feet.
His father looked down at him and sighed. It was always the same at this time of year. 
All the 
children would try to
borrow bicycles and only some would succeed. The rest would go around with sad faces - 
for this was 
Takai time.
During the first ten days after Christmas, the lucky children of the different 
villages are very busy 
preparing for their
annual trip round the Island. After repairing their bicycles, they paint and decorate 
them to look as 
gay as possible.
At the same time they make hats from the leaves of banana trees and cover them with 
the brightest 
tropical flowers.
Then, wearing their Sunday-best clothes and their hats, they mount their bicycles and 
set off.
This is a great adventure, especially for those children who usually never travel 
further than the 
next village. It is only
forty miles round the Island, but the complete trip may take one, two, or three days-
sometimes even a 
week.
Sometimes the men and women from the villages hire trucks, for the trip gives them the 
opportunity to 
visit their
relatives. But normally, when they have no truck, they consider the distance too 
great.
The children set off in the early hours of the morning. They like to be well on their 
way before the 
sun gets too hot.
They laugh and sing most of the way, and, as they approach each village, they call out 
at the tops of 
their voices, "Takai! Takai!" This cry is taken up by the villagers. Many of them go 
to the windows or the front 
door to wave a
friendly greeting, while the younger children rush out to say, "Fakalofa" ("Hello"), 
and to offer the travellers a cool drink.
There are thirteen villages to be visited, and the children are invited to eat, or 
even to stay 
overnight. These invitations
are usually accepted in the villages where the travellers have relatives.
To finish the trip in one day is quite an effort for the younger ones. It is long and 
tiring, but the 
children are usually so
excited, that they do not notice the blazing sun or potholes in the hot dusty roads. 
Most of them prefer to do it in a day, but by the time they 
reach home that
evening they are ready to drop on to their mats. They talk about their trip, what they 
did, the 
people they met and the
greetings they bring back from their relatives. They are usually very tired, but very 
happy at the 
success of their Takai.
Yes, Harry knew how important the trip was to Pele, but he did not know how he could 
help him. He was 
sure that
there would not be a spare bicycle for Pele in the village. For it did not matter how 
old or how 
battered they were; as long as they could move, they would be on the road for the 
trip. So, in silence Pele and his father 
walked home.
The family sat down to eat, but Pele just pecked at his food. Usually he had a big 
appetite, and 
would eat two
helpings. His father and mother looked at each other, and each had the same thought. 
There were still 
twenty-four hours before the start of the trip; so perhaps something would turn up.
It was a long time before Pele could get to sleep that night. He tossed and turned on 
his mat, but at 
last he slept. It
seemed as though he had just put his head on the pillow when he heard his mother call 
to him to get up. He wasted no time. As soon as he had finished his breakfast, he was 
off.
Every Tuesday and Friday during the school holidays, he spent the mornings working in 
one of the big houses down the road. He did all sorts of odd jobs around the place, 
but mostly he spent the time clearing the bush at the back of the house. Plants and 
weeds grow thick in the tropics, and unless they are cut back they soon spread 
over the lawns. Pele enjoyed the couple of hours he worked each day, and he was always 
glad to get the money, because his mother needed it.
Missie was in the kitchen when he arrived, and she told him what jobs she would like 
him to do. Soon 
he was
slashing away at the weeds with his bushknife. The sun was hot, and it was thirsty 
work, so he often 
stopped and
helped himself to the ice water that Salome, the house-girl, had put out for him. But 
today he was 
not very interested
in his work. He did not even stop to play with the children from the house, as he 
usually did. Pele 
was anxious to get
finished, and get back to his village. He was still hoping that something would turn 
up. Just a small 
miracle, that's all
he wanted!
He heard his name being called, and looked up to see Salome waving to him to come to 
the house. He wiped his dirty hands and sweaty face, on the corner of his lava lava, 
and opened the kitchen door. Missie was 
with Salome, and for a moment he wondered if he had done anything to annoy her - but, 
no, she was smiling at him.
"What is all this I hear about Takai!" she asked. "Salome has just told me that you 
are not going, 
because you
cannot get a bike."
Pele could hardly speak. He just shook his head. He knew that she was feeling sorry 
for him.
"Well, now," she said, "you come with me."
Pele followed her to the garage-and there, hanging on the wall, was the frame of a 
bicycle. Two 
wheels were hanging
beside it, with a loose tube and a tyre thrown across them. The tube was pretty old 
and nearly 
useless. It had been
patched many times, and there were still a few holes to repair, but if Pele could fix 
it-well, the 
bike was his for the trip!
Pele could hardly speak because he was so happy. Surely, he thought, this was his 
small miracle! He 
was about to
thank her, when she said, "Hurry along now, and get the rest of your work done. Then 
you can start on 
the bike."
Pele needed no second telling. The rest of the morning passed quickly. As soon as his 
work was 
finished, he hurried
to the garage.
The children of his island have their own special way of mending punctures. Pele had 
no patches or 
repair outfit, but
he knew exactly what he had to do. He pumped up the tube, and when he found a puncture 
he pinched the 
rubber
round it tightly with his forefinger and thumb. He then tied the rubber with a piece 
of string to stop the air from escaping.
"Please," he prayed, as he tied a knot in the fourth puncture, "let that be the last." 
He then pumped 
the tube hard,
and prayed that it would stay up. For a while he sat on the gound, just watching, 
almost expecting to 
hear the hiss of
the air escaping. He was watching so closely that he almost made himself believe that 
he could see 
the tube go
down. But the tube stayed up, and in no time at all he was putting the bicycle 
together. This did not 
take very long,as he had often helped his friends with their bicycles.
Just then Salome came out and handed him a small parcel. "From Missie," she said as 
she turned back 
towards the
house. When he opened the parcel he gasped. Nearly everything he would need to 
decorate his bike was 
there. There
were pieces of crepe paper, and coloured tinsel - all the brightest colours that one 
could buy. There were even a couple of balloons that he could tie on the handlebars. 
He couldn't believe his good luck.
He decided that he would walk home, pushing the bicycle. It would be a terrible thing 
if he got another puncture now.
Everyone was terribly excited when he got home, and, as good news travels very fast in 
the villages, he was quickly joined by his friends with their bicycles. For the next 
couple of hours, laughing and talking, they 
were hard at work.
They made their hats, and then finished decorating their bicycles.
Pele had another restless night. He tossed and turned on his mat, very excited at the 
thought of the 
trip. But he was
also worried, because he knew that if he didn't get to sleep pretty quickly-well, he 
just wouldn't be 
fit. At last
he was asleep, and the next thing he knew was the sun streaming through the windows. 
He was off his 
mat like a
shot. He washed and dressed, and quickly had his breakfast.
The boys had arranged to be at the well in the village, and very soon the first cry 
could be heard. Pele called to his
mother and father, and waved goodbye. The front wheel of his bicycle was a bit wobbly, 
because of the knots in the
tube, but who cared ? He was on his way.
His parents watched him go, still waving. Even when he was out of sight, they could 
still hear his voice calling out, "Takai! Takai!"
by CATHERINE J. PHILPOTT drawings by GRAHAM MERCY

Pecos Bill and His Bouncing Bride

There were two loves in the life of Pecos Bill. The first was his horse 
Widow-Maker, a beautiful creamy white mustang.
The second was a girl, a pretty, gay creature named Slue-Foot Sue.
Widow-Maker was the wildest pony in the West. He was the son of the White Mustang. 
Like his father he had a proud spirit which refused to be broken. For many years 
cowboys and vaqueros had 
tried to capture him. At last Pecos Bill
succeeded. He had a terrible time of it. For a whole week he lay beside a 
water hole before he could lasso the white
pony. For another week he had to ride across the prairies, in and out of 
canyons and briar patches, before he could
bring the pony to a walk. It was a wild ride indeed, but after Bill's ride 
on the cyclone it was nothing.
At last the white stallion gave up the struggle. Pecos patted his neck 
gently and spoke to him in horse language.

1. Vaqueros: Mexican cowboys.

"I hope you will not be offended," he began as politely as possible, "but 
beauty such as yours is rare, even in this
glorious state of Texas. I have no wish to break your proud spirit. I feel that 
together you and I would make a perfect team. Will you not be my partner at the I.X.L. 
Ranch?"
The horse neighed sadly. "It must be," he sighed. "I must give up my 
freedom. But since I must, I am glad that you
are the man who has conquered me. Only Pecos Bill is worthy to fix a saddle 
upon the son of the great White
Stallion, the Ghost King of the Prairie."
"I am deeply honoured," said Pecos Bill, touched in his heart by the 
compliment.
"It is rather myself who am honoured," replied the mustang, taking a 
brighter view of the situation.
The two of them went on for several hours saying nice things to each other. 
Before they were through, the pony was
begging Pecos to be his master. Pecos was weeping and saying he was not fit 
to ride so magnificent a beast. In the
end, however, Pecos Bill made two solemn promises; he would never place a 
bit in the pony's mouth; no other human
would ever sit in his saddle.
When Bill rode back to I.X.L. with his new mount, the second promise was 
broken. Old Satan, the former bad man,
had not completely recovered from his badness. He was jealous of Bill. When 
he saw the beautiful white stallion he
turned green and almost burst with jealousy. One night he stole out to the 
corral. Quietly he slipped up beside the
horse and jumped into the saddle.
Pegasus, as the horse was called, knew right away that his rider was not 
Pecos Bill. He lifted his four feet off the
ground and bent his back into a perfect semicircle. Old Satan flew off like 
an arrow from a bow. He flew up into the air,
above the moon, and came down with a thud on top of Pike's Peak. There he sat howling 
with pain and fright until the boys at 
I.X.L. spotted him.
Bill was angry. He knew, however, that Old Satan had had enough 
punishment. In his kind heart he could not allow
the villain to suffer any more than he had to. So he twirled his lasso 
around his head, let it fly, and roped Old Satan
back to the Texas ranch. The former desperado never tried to be bad again.
The cowhands were so impressed by the pony's bucking they decided to 
change his name. From that time on they
dropped the name of Pegasus and called him Widow-Maker. It suited him 
better.
The story of Bill's other love, Slue-Foot Sue, is a long one. It began 
with the tale of the Perpetual Motion Ranch. Bill
had bought a mountain from Paul Bunyan. It looked to him like a perfect 
mountain for a ranch. It was shaped like a
cone, with smooth sides covered with grassy meadows. At the top it was 
always winter. At the bottom it was always
summer. In between it was always spring and autumn. The sun always shone 
on one side; the other was always in shade. The cattle could have any climate they 
wished. Bill had to 
breed a special kind of steer for his ranch. These
had two short legs on one side and two long legs on the other. By 
travelling in one direction around the mountain,
they were able to stand up straight on the steep sides.
The novelty wore off, however, and at last Bill sold the Perpetual Motion 
Ranch to an English duke. The day that the
I.X.L. boys moved out, the lord moved in. He brought with him trainload 
after trainload of fancy English things. He had
featherbeds and fine china and oil paintings and real silver and linen 
tablecloths and silk rugs. The cowboys laughed
themselves almost sick when they saw these dude things being brought to a 
cattle ranch.
Pecos Bill didn't laugh. He didn't even notice the fancy things. All he 
could see was the English duke's beautiful
daughter. She was as pretty as the sun and moon combined. Her hair was 
silky and red. Her eyes were blue. She
wore a sweeping taffeta dress and a little poke bonnet with feathers on 
it. She was the loveliest creature Pecos Bill
had ever seen.
She was as lively and gay as she was pretty. Bill soon discovered that 
Slue-Foot Sue was a girl of talent. Before
anyone could say "Jack Robinson", she changed into a cowboy suit and 
danced a jig to the tune of "Get Along, Little Dogies".
Bill soon lost all his interest in cowpunching. He spent his afternoons 
at the Perpetual Motion Ranch, teaching Sue to
ride a bronco. Sue could ride as well as anyone, but she pretended to let 
him teach her. After several months of Bill's
lessons, she put on a show. She jumped on to the back of a huge catfish 
in the Rio Grande River and rode all the
way to the Gulf of Mexico, bareback. Bill
was proud of her. He thought she had learned her tricks all from him.
Sue's mother was terribly upset by her daughter's behaviour. She didn't 
care much for Bill. She was very proper. It was her fondest hope that Sue would stop 
being a tomboy and marry an earl or a member of Parliament.
As soon as she realized that her daughter was falling in love with a 
cowboy, she was nearly heart-broken. There was nothing she could do about it, however. 
Slue-Foot Sue was a headstrong girl who always had her own way.
At last the duchess gave in. She invited Bill to tea and began to lecture 
him on English manners. She taught him how
to balance a teacup, how to bow from the waist, and how to eat scones and 
marmalade instead of beans and bacon.
He learned quickly, and soon the duchess was pleased with him. She called him 
"Colonel".
When the boys from the I.X.L. Ranch saw what was going on they were 
disgusted. Here was their boss, their
brave, big, cyclone-riding Pecos Bill, mooning around in love like a sick 
puppy. They laughed at his dude manners.
They made fun of his dainty appetite. When he dressed up in his finery to 
call on his girl, they stood in the bunkhouse
door. They simpered and raised their eyebrows and said to one another, 
"La-dee-da, dearie, ain't we fine today!"
But for all their teasing they were broken-hearted. None of them had 
anything against Sue. They admired the way she
rode a horse and played a guitar and danced a jig. But the thought of 
losing Bill to a woman was too much. Even
worse was the thought that Bill might get married and bring a woman home to 
live with them. That was awful!
In spite of their teasing and the duchess's lessons, Bill asked Slue-Foot Sue to marry 
him. She accepted before he could back out. Her father, the lord, had always liked 
Bill and was terribly pleased at the match.
On his wedding day Pecos Bill shone like the sun in his new clothes. His boys were 
dressed in their 
finest chaps and
boots for the occasion. Half of them were going to be groomsmen. The other half were 
going to be 
bridesmaids, but
they refused. They said that was going too far.
They rode to the Perpetual Motion Ranch in a fine procession, Bill at the head on 
Widow-Maker. The 
white horse
pranced and danced with excitement.
At the ranch house waited the rest of the wedding party. The lord had sent back to 
England for a 
bishop to perform the ceremony. There stood His Eminence in his lace robes. On his one 
hand stood the duke in a cutaway 
coat. On
his other hand stood the duchess in a stiff purple gown right from Paris.
Down the stairs came the bride. She was a vision of beauty. She wore a white satin 
dress cut in the 
latest fashion. It
had a long lace train, but its chief glory was a bustle. A bustle was a wire 
contraption that fitted 
under the back of the
dress. It made the skirt stand out and was considered very handsome in those days.
As Slue-Foot Sue danced down the steps even the cowhands forgot their sorrow. They 
jumped down from 
Their horses and swept their sombreros from their heads. Pecos Bill lost his head. He 
lept down from Widow-Maker and ran to meet her. "You are lovely," he murmured. "I 
promise to grant you every wish you make."
That was a mistake. A devilish gleam twinkled in Sue's eye. For months she had been 
begging Bill to let her ride Widow-Maker. Bill, of course, had always refused.
Now Sue saw her chance. Before she allowed the wedding to proceed, she demanded that 
Bill give her one ride on his white mustang.
"No, no!" cried Pecos Bill. Before he could stop her Sue dashed down the drive and 
placed her dainty 
foot into the
stirrup. The duchess screamed. The bishop turned pale.
Widow-Maker gave an angry snort. This was the second time the promise to him had been 
broken. He lifted his four feet off the ground and arched his back. Up, up, up shot 
Slue-Foot Sue. She disappeared into the clouds.
"Catch her, catch her!" roared Bill at the boys. They spread themselves out into a 
wide circle. Then 
from the sky came a scream like a siren. Down, down, down fell Sue. She hit the earth 
with terrible force. She 
landed on her bustle. The wire acted as a spring. It bounced. Up again she flew.
Up and down, up and down between the earth and sky Sue bounced like a rubber ball. 
Every time she 
fell her bustle
hit first. Back she bounced. This went on for a week. When at last she came back to 
earth to stay, 
she was
completely changed. She no longer loved Pecos Bill.
The wedding was called off and the boys returned to the I.X.L. with their unhappy 
boss. For months he 
refused to eat.
He lost interest in cowpunching. He was the unhappiest man Texas had ever seen.
At last he called his hands together and made a long speech. He told them that the 
days of real 
cowpunching were
over. The prairie was being fenced off by farmers. These "nesters", as he called them, 
were ruining 
the land for the
ranchers. He was going to sell his herd.
The I.X.L. had its last roundup. Bill gathered all the prime steers together and put 
them on the 
train for Kansas City.
Then he divided the cows and calves among his boys. He himself mounted Widow-Maker and 
rode away.
The boys hated to see him go, but they knew how he felt. "Nesters" or no "nesters", 
the real reason for his going was his broken heart.
None of them ever saw him again. Some of them thought he had gone back to the coyotes. 
Others had an 
idea that
Slue-Foot Sue had changed her mind and that she and Bill were setting up housekeeping 
in some private 
canyon.
But they never knew.
Some years later an old cowhand claimed that Bill had died. The great cowpuncher had 
met a dude 
rancher at a
rodeo. The dude was dressed up in an outfit he had bought from a movie cowboy. The 
dude's chaps were 
made of
doeskin. His boots were painted with landscapes and had heels three inches high. The 
brim of his hat was broad enough to cover a small circus. Bill took a good look at him 
and died laughing.
Drawings by GRAHAM PERCY
From Pecos Bill by James C. Bowman. As adapted in Yankee Doodle's Cousins by Anne 
Malcolmson. Reprinted by permission of Albert Whitman and Company and Houghton Mifflin 
Company.

Bearded Bill and the Stolen Jewels
by Evelyn Weiss
illustrated by Graham Percy

Bearded Bill was a mountain goat who loved to eat wild onions more than anything. He could climb up 
or down Broken Eggshell Mountain, where he lived, faster than any man in the world. His favourite game was poking here and 
there among the loose rocks.
"Have to keep my horns in good order," he would say. One day, poking here and there among the loose 
rocks on Broken Eggshell Mountain, he found a canvas bag. It was tied tight at the top
with string.
There were some hard things at the bottom of the bag. but Bearded Bill was not interested in them.
At this time the police were looking for some stolen jewels. They thought they were up on Broken 
Eggshell Mountain, but they did not know just where. Seven policemen had been sent to the
mountain to find them. They moved a lot of dirt and rocks, but all they got were sore backs. And then 
one sunny day, Bearded Bill walked past Constable O'Malley with the canvas bag in his
mouth.
"What?" the constable shouted. "That goat's got the jewels, or I'm his grandmother!"
Bearded Bill saw Constable O'Malley and he did not like him. He liked Jack, the forest ranger. Most 
other people who came to the mountain had guns. Jack would send them away. He also used
to bring food when the snow
deep. Once, when Bearded Bill was sick, Jack brought him a blanket and some medicine that made him better.
Of course, the police had orders not to shoot any animals on the mountain, but Bearded Bill did not 
know that. When Constable O'Malley saw Bearded Bill he took some carrots from his lunch
box and threw them on the ground.
"That's good of him," thought Bill. "Perhaps he isn't a bad man after all. And those long red onions look nice to eat."
Bearded Bill was eating his second carrot, when he saw Constable O'Malley bend down and walk off with the jewels.
"Aha!" Bill said to himself. "So that's it. He wants to take my bag away from me, does he? He is not 
a good man. I think I'll teach him a lesson."
He then charged Constable O'Malley. He hit him behind the knees. Constable O'Malley fell and dropped 
the bag. Bill grabbed it in his jaws, and then he ran up the mountain.
Constable O'Malley did not feel at all happy, but he had a job to do. He took his walkie-talkie radio 
off his back and
called the police inspector in town.
"Inspector," he said, "I've found the jewels, but –
"That's good, O'Malley," the inspector said. "Bring them right down. The reporters are here, and 
they will want to talk
to you."
"You didn't let me finish," Constable O'Malley said. "I found the jewels, but a goat got away with 
them."
"A boat?" the inspector said. "What's a boat doing on the mountain?"
"I said goat, not boat!" Constable O'Malley answered.
"What?" the inspector shouted. "Find it at once! I can't tell the reporters a goat has the jewels."
So up Constable O'Malley went. He climbed over rocks. He pulled himself up in the steep places. 
He went up
past bent trees and bushes. He looked everywhere. He had to hold on to rocks or trees to keep himself 
from falling.
All the time he tried to hide himself, so that Bearded Bill would not see him.
At last he came to a bank where he found Bearded Bill asleep. The canvas bag was lying beside him.
But Bearded Bill was not asleep. His eyes were a little bit open, and he could see very well.
Constable O'Malley climbed quietly on to the bank. He got out his lasso.
"I wonder what he's doing now?" Bearded Bill thought. He watched Constable O'Malley swing his lasso 
above his
head. Then it flew towards him. Bill jumped aside, but not fast enough. It caught his left horn.
"It's a snake!" Bill said to himself. He had won a few fights with snakes. Constable O'Malley pulled 
tight and made his
way toward Bill. But Bill kept rubbing his horn angrily against a sharp rock. You know how a goat's horn comes to a sharp 
point? Well, the lasso kept 
slipping, slipping, toward the end of it and then - SNAP! --- Constable O'Malley sat on the ground. Bill ran away 
with the bag, up
the rocks and out of sight again.
"Buzz, crackle!" It was the inspector calling on the walkie-talkie.
"Have you got those jewels yet, O'Malley?" he asked.
Constable O'Malley felt like telling the inspector to come up and get them himself, if he thought it 
was so easy. But
he could not say that. Instead he said, "Look. Have you ever been in a race with a mountain goat? Well, I am right now, and so 
far the goat is winning."
The inspector said they should put the goat into the police force instead of Constable O'Malley. But 
when Constable
O'Malley seemed upset, the inspector said he meant it only as a joke.
The inspector then told Constable O'Malley to stay where he was, because he was sending the other six 
policemen
to help him.
He also said Constable O'Malley was to take charge of the search.
So Constable O'Malley sat down and had his lunch, and worked out some plans. By that time the six 
policemen had
arrived in two cars. They had shovels, picks, a rope, dynamite, hooks, cables, nets and steel traps.
"I think that goat is too smart to be caught by any steel trap," said Constable O'Malley. "And we 
won't need all this
junk you've brought, either. If that goat has dropped the jewels, all you will need is a good pair of 
eyes. If he hasn't
dropped them, we shall need the nets and ropes, and that's all."
Constable O'Malley sent the policemen to different parts of the mountain. They set their watches at the same time. They said they 
would radio each other if any of them saw
the jewels, or a goat with a canvas bag. If they saw nothing, they would 
meet at a spot near the snow line at four
o'clock. So up they went after Bill.
This plan might have worked, but Bill had decided to make his way down. He 
knew a deep ditch, good only for goats.
Down this path Bill made his way for half a mile He kept himself hidden 
between the walls of the ditch When he came out, he found a patch of wild onions, and had a meal. Then he sat on a 
sunny rock that stuck out from the mountain.
From the rock, Bearded Bill could see the valley below.
The police found nothing, so they met near the snow line. They rested their 
sore legs, while Constable O'Malley
looked through his field glasses at the scene below. He saw a shape he knew 
on a rock.
"Iron my socks," he said, "if that goat isn't out there on the same spot 
where I was two hours ago!"
He could see the bag, too. "Now if he'll just stay where he is," he said, 
"I think we've got him."
Constable O'Malley made some quick plans. He was very good at plans, 
though you may not think so by the time
this story is over.
With a spoon he drew a map in the dirt. "This is the front of the rock," 
he said. "No goat would jump over it."
He told the policemen they would go up to the goat from the other three 
sides of the crag. They would go in pairs and
carry nets. Rocks and trees would hide them from the goat.
He divided the men into pairs, and then they all went down the mountain.
"Keep hidden," Constable O'Malley said, "and don't breathe if you can help it."
The men moved out into a wide half-circle. When they were just below the rock, they began to move 
closer. They
lifted themselves silently on to the rock. They spread their nets and moved forward.
 Bearded Bill was busy chewing his bag. This made a
noise in his ears, so he didn't hear the sound of pebbles and
sand beneath the policemen's feet. But he felt there was
something strange going on. In one movement, Bearded
Bill jumped and turned about. His bag was between his
teeth. The policemen ran, but Bearded Bill charged so fast, they had time to throw only one of the nets at him. It landed on his 
back,  then slid off in a heap, as Bearded Bill
leaped through the air and over the side of the crag.
"Buzz, crackle!" It was the police inspector on the walkie-talkie.
"How's everything going, O'Malley?" he asked.
Constable O'Malley let out a roar of rage.
Bearded Bill went down through the trees, sliding over rocks, splashing through streams, until he 
reached the
mountain road. There he stopped, for he heard a car. He knew the sound of that motor. It was Jack, 
the forest ranger,
in his truck.
Bearded Bill saw Jack get out of the truck and walk quickly to a track. He was on some important job.
Bearded Bill started to catch up to him, but he saw Constable O'Malley and the six policemen 
coming down the track.
Jack stopped to talk to them. Constable O'Malley kept saying something about stolen jewels and not 
letting any goat
beat him.
Bearded Bill heard Jack answer him, a little angrily. "You don't have to frighten the animal," he said. "If that goat has the jewels, 
I'll get them for you."
The policemen were too tired to search any more that day.
"Go ahead," said Constable O'Malley, with a sigh."Go ahead and try. You're a better man than I am 
if you can do it."
"You'd better go back to your cars," said Jack. "If I get the jewels before dark, I'll bring them to 
you. And give me
some of your food - the vegetables, please."
Jack had all kinds of signals for the animals. When the policemen had gone, he sat by the side of the 
road and gave a
low whistle.
In a minute, Bearded Bill's head showed between two large rocks. He stopped there, as if saying, 
"Looking for me?"
Then he walked up to Jack.
Jack stroked him. "They've given you a bad time, haven't they, old fellow?" he said. He gave Bearded 
Bill some lettuce
and beans. Bearded Bill ate them happily.
"Look, Bill," said Jack. "I want some things out of your bag. You don't need them anyway. May I look into it, old fellow?"
Bearded Bill rubbed his nose against Jack's leg. If he wanted to keep the bag he could have it.
Jack opened the bag and put the jewels in his handkerchief. He tied the bag again, just as it had 
been before, and
gave it back to Bearded Bill. Then he started down the mountain toward the police cars. Bearded Bill 
followed with the
canvas bag hanging from his mouth. He knew no one was going to try to take it away any more.
When they reached the police cars, Jack handed the handkerchief to Constable O'Malley. He untied it 
and counted
the jewels.
"They're here," he said. "They're all here."
He thanked and thanked Jack. "Next time I have anything to do with 
animals," he said, "I will see you first."
Then he asked if he could pay Jack in any way.
"Yes, you can," Jack answered. "Send me up a hundred pounds of wild onions."
"Wild onions!" Constable O'Malley said. "What would you do with a hundred 
pounds of wild onions?"
Jack looked at Bearded Bill and winked. "That's a secret," he said.
Constable O'Malley promised to send the onions the next day. Then seven 
very tired policemen climbed into their
cars and drove toward town.
Jack sat on a rock, and he and Bearded Bill watched the sun set behind the 
mountain. Bearded Bill looked at Jack
and bleated. He seemed to say, "You're a true friend."
Reprinted by permission of David McKay Company, Inc., from Mixups and 
Fixups by Evelyn Weiss. Copyright 1953, 1954 by Evelyn Weiss.

The Barge.
by John Bates illustrated by Tom Coomber

Jack lay on his back on the sand and looked at the sea. He had been ill 
in hospital. He was getting better, but the
doctor had said that he was to stay at home until he was quite well again.
He was all by himself. His brothers and sisters and all his friends were 
at school. Only his mother was at home, and
she was so busy with the housework that she had no time for Jack. He had 
been at home for a week now, but already
he was wishing he was back at school again. There were so many things 
that his mother said he must not do
because he was not strong enough yet.
Jack lived in a house on a hill by the sea. The long branches of the 
trees at the bottom of the garden hung out over the
sand where Jack was lying. He sat up and looked out across the wet sand 
to the water of the harbour. The tide was
going out. What could he do?
Sometimes, when he came down from the house, he hoped he might see 
something different, such as a strange
boat, or a cave in the cliff at the end of the beach, but it was always 
the same. Still, his mother would not let him go
to town and there was nothing to do in the house or garden, so the beach 
was his only hope. Jack looked up and
down the beach once more, but everything was the same as it always was.
Jack turned over so that his face was down on his arms. He thought of 
what he might get for his birthday in two weeks' time, but even that didn't seem very exciting. Jack was bored and he 
felt lonely. There was nothing to do. Now
that he could not see anything, he began to hear sounds that he had not 
noticed before. He could hear the wind in the
trees above his head and the big waves breaking on the beach far away down 
the harbour. Then, far off, he heard a
new sound.
He lay quite still. What was it? Was he just imagining it? No. It was still 
there. It was a steady noise like a pump that
went on and on and got closer and closer.
He made up his mind to stay there and not look, but at last he could stand 
it no longer. He jumped up and looked out
over the water.
A launch was coming up the harbour, and as she came closer he could see 
that she was a Harbour Board launch.
There were big rope fenders hanging over the side, and
she was towing something big.
The thing she was towing was long and black and was
very low in the water. It had a flat front. There was nothing on its deck, no cabin, no mast  -  nothing at all. Jack
knew it was a barge. He had seen barges down the harbour,
but he had never been as close as this to one before.
"What could it be doing up here?" he asked himself.
As he stood there, the launch swung round towards the
beach. He could hear the powerful engine slowing down,
and he could see men running about on the barge and on
the launch. Then the launch began to turn away again.
just then, the tow-rope was let go, and the barge came in
towards the beach until it came to a stop in the shallow
water.
"Very neat!" thought Jack. He watched the men on the
barge drop the anchors. He saw them climb into a dinghy
and row back to the launch. Soon the launch was far away
down the harbour.
It was all over so quickly that Jack could hardly believe
it had happened. There had been nothing there a little
while ago when he had put his head down. Now there was
a great big black barge right in front of him.
Jack began to walk down the beach towards the barge.
The tide was starting to come in again, and he soon came to
the water. As the muddy water got deeper he rolled up his
trouser legs as far as they would go, but soon he had to walk
on tiptoe. Now he was almost at the barge, when suddenly,
he hit his shin hard on one of the anchors. The pain almost
made him cry out. Now the water was almost up to his
waist, but still he kept on going. A few more steps and he
was there.
He stood quite still for a while looking up at the great
 
black side of the barge. It was afloat now on the incoming tide. It did not look anything like the 
boats he was used to.
His eyes moved back to the big anchor rope which came down from the barge. By pulling on the rope 
and using it as
a ladder he found that he could pull himself out of the water.
He put his feet on the side of the barge and slowly moved his hands up the rope until he could get 
them on to the flat
top of the barge. His wet hands kept slipping, but at last he pulled himself up and over. His shin 
still hurt, so he tied
his handkerchief round his leg to stop the bleeding. His handkerchief was sopping wet but this would 
not matter
because Jack knew that salt water was good for cuts.
When he had fixed his leg he walked to the other end of the barge, about forty feet or so. He kept 
right out to the
edge, and when he reached the end he crossed over and came back up the other side.
 When he had been right round the barge he felt more at home. All he could see on top of it was a 
small hatch cover.
He lifted it up and looked down into the inside of the barge. It was too dark to see anything.
What could be down there? Jack wanted to find out. How deep was the hole?
Jack took off his belt and let it down into the hole as far as his arm would stretch. He could not 
tell whether it hit the
bottom or not.
"It could not be far to the bottom," he thought. He held on to the edge of the hatch and let himself 
slowly down into
the hole until he was hanging by his hands. He tried to feel the bottom with his toes but there was 
nothing there.
"I'm going to let go," he thought.
It was only a few feet to the bottom. He found himself sitting in wet sand. it was quite black inside the barge. The only light came 
from the hole above 
him. Jack got up on
his hands and knees and crawled slowly about. He held one hand out in front of himself in case he 
bumped into
something in the dark. He began to feel a little bit frightened. "It's all right," he said to 
himself. "It's only a barge."
He could see a bit better now. He stood up. Soon he had been all around 
the inside of the barge. There was nothing
there but wet sand and pools of water. He went back to where the light 
came through the hatch. It looked a long way up.
He put his hands up as far as he could, but it was much too far to reach. 
He looked around for something to stand on.
There was nothing there but a beer bottle. He tried to stand on it, but 
it fell over. Then he tried to jump up and grab the
edge of the hatch, but he fell back on to the sand. Four times he jumped 
up into the light, but each time he fell back.
Then, all at once, he felt very frightened. He jumped again and again. He 
shouted as loudly as he could. At last he
could jump no more. He stood still.
Had someone heard him shouting? No.
He could hear nothing but the sound of water lapping against the side of 
the barge. He could not get out. He was
trapped!
"If I don't get out I'll die," Jack said to himself. "No one knows I'm 
here."
Then he began to think again. "There must be some way to get out."
He got down on his knees and made a pile of sand with his hands. He put 
the bottle on top, then he put sand all
round it.
As he worked he began to feel better.  "It was going to be all right."
Soon he had made his step. He stood back and looked at it.
"I'll have to do it right the first time," he said to himself, "or I'll 
have to make it all over again."
Jack took two steps back, waited a bit, then jumped up to the light. Then he was swinging by his hands from the edge of the 
hatch. He pulled up as hard as he could and
just got one leg on to the edge. One more pull and he was over. He had made 
it!
Jack stood up on the flat barge top. He was full of joy - the joy of being 
out of that hole. He didn't care about the tide
coming in or anything else. Now that he was out of that dark hole he was 
free. He slid down one of the ropes into the
water and half swam, half walked towards the beach.
"Good old barge!" he said out loud. He turned and waved to it.
No, he did not even care what his mother would say when he got home all wet 
with a handkerchief tied around his leg.
"I'll tell her I was chasing a little fish and tripped over a whale," he 
said to himself.
It was just as well that he had turned around and waved goodbye to the 
barge. When he went down to the beach at
high tide the next morning, the barge had gone.



Old Tom and the Rogue 
by T. E. Wilson
illustrated by Nan Reid

Old Tom was a little old man, with blue eyes. The sun and the wind had 
made his face brown. His home was a small
log cabin, which was in a small clearing in the bush. Gorse, big trees 
and small trees grew all around. A small river or
stream ran out of the bush and through the clearing. Some gorse grew by 
the stream. The yellow flowers on the gorse
looked like gold.
Old Tom lived in the bush a long way from the village. If you came to see 
him you would find him chopping wood for
his fire. On some days he would be looking after his garden. He had a 
very good garden and grew a lot of vegetables.
He sold vegetables from his garden to the store in the village. In this 
way he made money to buy the food and clothes
he wanted.
A little dog with a short tail lived with him. A green-eyed cat lived with 
him, too.
The village people sometimes asked each other why Old Tom lived so far 
away on his own. One day a rogue came to
the village and heard the village people talking about Old Tom. The rogue 
liked to make money by tricking people, and
he thought he might be able to trick Old Tom. The next morning he set out 
to find Old Tom. He found him chopping
wood near his cabin.
"Good day to you, old man," said the rogue.
"It is a good day," said Old Tom.
"You have a very nice cabin here," said the rogue. The rogue looked around to see if there was 
something he
could do to trick Tom and to get some money.
"You have a very good garden," said the rogue.
"Yes," said Old Tom. "It is a good garden."
"Look here," said the rogue. "This is just the place I am looking for. Would you like to sell it?"
Old Tom looked at the rogue. He didn't like the look of him at all.
"No!" he said.
"Oh, come now," said the rogue. "Wouldn't you like a house in the village? I will give you some 
money for your
cabin. I will give you fifty dollars."
"No," said Old Tom.
"Sixty dollars then."
This made Old Tom angry. He knew he could sell his cabin for more than sixty dollars.
"No!" he said. Then Old Tom picked up his axe and walked off to his cabin. The rogue watched him go.
"He has some money or something I can sell for money in there. He could have something very valuable 
hidden in
the cabin," said the rogue to himself.
Now Old Tom knew that he could do with a new house. The roof was old and let the rain in. There were 
cracks in the
wall and the wind came through them.
But he could not build a new house and look after his garden too, or chop all the wood he needed for 
the cold winter.
He had to grow some vegetables to sell in the village. His cabin was a long way from the village and 
his old legs got
tired after walking to the village and back.
One day Old Tom took some vegetables to sell to the store in the village. The rogue was hiding in the 
trees. As soon
as Old Tom had gone, he came out of the trees and crept up to the cabin. He tried to open the door. It was locked. He tried to 
open a small window but 
it was shut tight.
He tried the door again. He pushed and pushed, but still it would not open. So he tried to open the window again. He gave it a 
hard push and it opened. The rogue climbed in, and looked all around him. On a small box near one wall sat Old Tom's cat.
"A cat," said the rogue. "That can't hurt me."
The rogue looked all around the hut, but he did not find any money. He looked everywhere, but could 
not find anything
he could sell for money. Then he looked at the cat on the box.
"Get off there," he cried. He put his hand to push the cat off the box. The cat scratched him. The 
rogue jumped back
quickly. The cat jumped off the box and ran to the
window. It was still open.
In the box was some paper. On one piece of paper was
something. The rogue looked at it and could just read:
"Whoever has this clearing green,
Will be rich
For by the stream
There is gold...
And that was all there was on it. The rogue put the
paper back, got out of the window, and closed it.
Some days after this, the rogue came to see Old Tom
again.
"I see there is a house for sale in the village," said the
rogue. "They want two hundred dollars for it. And it has
a big garden. A very good garden too, I saw it myself this
morning."
"Oh," said Old Tom. "I did not know about that. It
must be very good."
"I will tell you what," said the rogue. "I'll help you out. I will give you two hundred dollars for this old cabin and your garden. 
With this money you could buy that house
in the village."
Old Tom did not know what to say.
"That is very good of you, but two hundred …"
"Two hundred and fifty dollars," said the rogue quickly. "But that is as much as I will give."
"Oh," said Old Tom, and he took the money. "I don't
know why you want this place. It has a good garden, but it
is a long way from the village."
"I have a friend who wants a place near the bush to live
in," said the rogue. "But I think I will live here for a while myself."
As soon as Old Tom had gone, the rogue got a shovel
and started to dig by the stream. He dug and dug and dug.
His back hurt and his hands hurt, but he still went on digging. He did not 
find any gold.
One day Old Tom came back to the cabin to get something he had forgotten. 
When he saw the rogue digging down
by the stream he was very surprised.
"I can see you are a hard-working man," Old Tom said to the rogue. "What 
are you doing? Making a dam in the
stream? That is good. You could water the garden when it is dry."
"Yes," said the rogue. He did not want to tell Old Tom what he was looking 
for.
"There is one thing I forgot to take with me," said Old Tom. "I left a box 
here. It has some paper in it. On one piece of
paper I had a poem. I wrote it a long time ago but I never finished it. Now 
I have thought how to finish it. This is how it goes."
Old Tom then started to say his poem:
"Whoever has this clearing green,  Will be rich,  For by the stream  There 
is gold.  The burning golden flowers of gorse. . .
He stopped. He looked round him at the stream and the gorse and the old 
cabin.
"You know, I have forgotten the rest of it."
But the rogue did not stay to hear any more.
"Gorse! The burning golden flowers of gorse!" Old Tom heard him say at he 
went. Before night time the rogue was on
his way to the next village.
Old Tom still lives in his house in the village. He is a very happy man. He 
still sells his vegetables to the store in the village. But he always wonders why the rogue did not stay in the cabin.

Cobber
by Ruth Dallas
illustrated by Richard Kennedy

The road to Mr Ferguson's farm was not used very much. Every afternoon, at about three o'clock, a 
black and brown
dog trotted along this road. His name was Cobber. He was on his way to meet his master, Des Ferguson. 
Des
walked home from school with his friend, Susan Winter.
Cobber was now too big to be called a pup. As he trotted along he could smell rabbits, sheep, horses, 
cows, hens.
He listened to every sound.
"There goes old Cobber," Susan's father said, as the dog crossed the railway line. Mr Winter was the railway porter.
He lived in the house by the small railway station.
"Susan and Des will be along soon," he said to his wife. "That dog is a great old friend. I wonder if Des will be able to take him 
when the Fergusons move to town?"
Mr Winter read in the paper that Mr Ferguson's farm was to be sold. Mr Winter read the lists of 
animals and tools that
were for sale. "There's no dog listed here," he said. "I hope Des can keep him. They're good friends."
Mrs Winter bought her milk from Mr Ferguson's farm. Des and Cobber brought it down every night after 
school. Des
was glad he was moving to town, he said. Next year he was going to Tech to learn to be a carpenter.
But Susan Winter was sad. She had no sisters or brothers. No girls lived near. Des was the only boy 
who came
along her road. He was a year older than Susan. Every afternoon
Cobber came running to meet them as though they had been away for a year. He greeted them with a few 
barks.
Then he led them home along the gravel road.
The day before the sale, Des stopped at Susan's gate.
"Could you come up for the milk tonight, Susan?" he asked. "I won't have time to come down. The sale's tomorrow. Dad wants 
me to help him set the tools out in the front paddock. 
They are to be sold by auction. I'm to take
old Bess and the cart. "
"All right," Susan said.
She went inside. Her father was in the kitchen with Mother, having his 
afternoon tea. He stood with his back to the
fire. He had a scone in one hand and his cup in the other. Mother sat at 
the table.
"I have to go up for the milk," Susan said.
"What's young Des going to do with his dog?" her father asked. "Is he 
taking him to town? Or is the dog to be sold?"
"It's going to be terrible without Cobber!" Susan said.
She remembered the happy way he came to meet them. He held his ears up and 
wagged his tail. It was good to have games with him. She felt she was either going to cry or get angry.
She said angrily, "I think Mr Ferguson is mean, moving to town!" And she 
banged her schoolbag down on the floor.
"Steady on!" her father said. "Mr Ferguson is not going to stay on his farm 
just to please you. He's an old man. His sons have married and gone away, except Des."
"Would you like something to eat?" Mother asked. "I made scones today."
She buttered a scone and spread it with raspberry jam.
"I wish I knew about the dog," Father said. "I wouldn't like to see it go 
to strangers. If Des was willing to sell it, I wouldn't mind buying it myself."
When Susan heard this she sat down and listened. She hardly dared to 
breathe.
Mother passed the scone and looked thoughtful. She was wondering if she 
could be bothered with a dog about the
place.
"Muddy footprints!" she said.
"He'd be a friend for Susan," Father said.
"Bones in the garden!" Mother said.
"Susan needs someone to play with," Father said. "I tell you what, Susan!" He turned to her. "When you go up for the milk, ask 
Des if he's thinking of selling the dog. If he's taking him to town that's the end of it. But, if he's selling, well ... Ask him how 
much he wants for it."
"How much would you give?" Mother asked.
"Oh, I don't know. What do you think? Two dollars?"
"That's a lot of money for a boy," Mother said. "Mrs Ferguson might not like it."
"Well, he mightn't want as much as that. You ask him. Susan, if he'd sell the dog to you. Tell him the dog would have a good 
home here."
He felt in his pocket and found a dollar in coins. Mother rose and brought 
a dollar from her purse. Also ten cents for the milk.
"Have you got a hanky to tie it in?" Father asked.
Susan looked, but couldn't find a handkerchief.
"I'll lend you a purse," Mother said. She fetched a little purse from her 
drawer.
"Now don't lose it," Mother said. She put the money into it and zipped it 
shut. She gave it to Susan, and put the billy in her other hand.
"Be sure not to lose it," Mother said again, as Susan went off.
It was a long way to the farm. She walked along very slowly. Every little 
while she stopped to listen to the birds.
At the farm she could see Des working with old Bess and the cart. The 
farmhouse had been newly painted for the
sale.
Cobber was running round Des and the horse. He came racing to meet her. He 
greeted her with a few barks. Then
he ran back to Des to lead her on. Her heart leapt when she looked at him. She thought of the money she had
brought in the purse to buy him.
Des waved from the paddock, where he worked with the horse. Farm tools of all kinds were spread out on the grass.
Mrs Ferguson waited for her at the top of the road. She was wearing gumboots, an apron and a woollen cap.
Susan could see some sheep moving in a paddock far away. She could see Mr Ferguson with them. He looked small
as a boy from this distance.
"I've stood here many times," Mrs Ferguson said to Susan. "I'll miss the view."
Mrs Ferguson spent most of her time out of doors. Her face was very brown.  She took the billy to the cowshed and filled it with 
rich creamy milk.
The shed was swept and tidy, empty, clean. The mud in the yard was baked hard by the wind and sun.
"I hope you will still be able to get your milk from the farm," she said. "Perhaps the people who buy the place will buy the 
cows."
It was dark under the pine trees. Some of the hens were flying up to roost. One hen stood under the trees. She tried
to shelter her chickens under her wings. Her chickens had grown too big for her to hide. Their heads peeped out from
her feathers. Susan laughed when she saw them. Mrs Ferguson laughed, too.
"Will you sell the hens?" Susan asked. "And the sheep? Everything?"
"Yes, everything's to be sold by auction," said Mrs Ferguson.
Susan went over to Des. He was driving the horse out of the paddock.
"Woah, there, Bess!'' Des shouted. He grinned cheerfully at Susan. He had changed out of his school clothes into an old jersey 
and a pair of jeans.
"I'm getting the things ready for the sale." He waved his hand towards the farm tools in the paddock.
"First thing in the morning there will be people here from farms all over the place. Crowds. Cars. I'm not coming to school 
tomorrow."
Cobber sniffed at the billy of milk, and Susan had to lift  it away from him.
"Down, Cobber, down!" Susan said. "Are you going to
 sell Cobber, Des?"
Des looked away over the paddocks and didn't answer at  first.
"Yes," he said, after a while. He scratched his head and
looked unhappy. "I'm not allowed to take him to town. There's no place for him."
"Would you sell him to me? How much do you want for him?"
"Gee, you couldn't  buy him, Susan! He's a good dog. I might get fifteen dollars for him!"
Fifteen dollars? Susan found it hard not to feel sad, and she couldn't look at Cobber. Like Des, she too looked out
across the paddocks. She held on to the purse tightly. She couldn't think of anything else to say. After a while she said, "Well, I'd 
better be going now."
Cobber raced ahead of her, showing her the way. He ran along beside the wire fence, nose to the ground, black tail
waving. He would have gone with her all the way home. But soon Des whistled him back.
At home Mother was cooking the tea. Father was sitting reading the paper.
Susan set the billy on the bench. She threw the purse down beside it so that they would hear that it still held the coins. She didn't 
want to talk about it.
"What happened?" her father asked.
"Des says he might get fifteen dollars."
"At the auction? I don't think he will."
"There's a letter from Nana," Mother said. "She's coming to stay next week. She's bringing Aunty Betty's little girl, Lydia. She's 
four, now. Won't that be nice?"
"Is she? Truly?" That was something exciting to look forward to, Susan thought. But not as good as 
having Cobber
every day of the year.
"I don't want anything to eat," she said.
"That's silly," Mother said. "Look, I'm frying some nice chops."
At the table Susan pushed her chop about on her plate with her knife and fork. She couldn't eat it. 
Her mother and father were talking about other things. They didn't seem to notice. She wondered what she could do 
with it.
Some one knocked on the back door. Susan's father rose and opened the door. Des was standing there. 
He had
Cobber on a chain.
"Mr Winter!" Des said. "Mr Winter! If Susan is allowed to keep Cobber she can have him!"
They all looked at him. Des went red. Cobber stood wagging his tail. He sniffed up the smell of fried 
chops. He looked
at Susan to see if she would give him something to eat.
"I told Susan she could buy the dog if you'd sell him," Mr Winter said, "but she came back with the 
money. I thought
you didn't want to sell." He looked from Des to Susan.
"That's right, I don't want to sell him," Des said. "I was thinking. You can sell the tools. You can 
sell the cows and
they don't mind. But Cobber ... he's different ... he'd feel it. I think he'd know I sold him. He trusts me. It doesn't seem fair. He 
might have to go some 
place he doesn't
like. He likes Susan. He'd be happy here with her."
"We'd be glad to have him," Mr Winter said. "But I think you should take something for him."
Des shook his head. He thrust the chain into Mr Winter's hand. "Stop there!" he said to Cobber, and 
ran away.
"He'll have a good home here!" Mr Winter called after him. "Come and see him whenever you like!"
Cobber sat with his head on one side. He was thinking. He listened to Des's footsteps running down 
the road.
Susan hurried out from behind the table. She was very excited. She thought she must be dreaming. 
Nothing so wonderful had happened to her in her whole life. She took her fried chop and held it out to Cobber. 
He begged for it and took it and nobody said a word! They all laughed! It was just like Christmas morning.

Henry with the Hair
 written and illustrated by Roy Cowan

Henry was just like every other boy; but his hair would
never stay flat. His big brother Jerry was very good with a
brush, comb, and a little water.
 "Look at me!" Jerry often said, as he looked at himself
in the mirror.
 "I'm smooth and shiny, and look at you. You're just a
mess." Henry would work harder and harder with his
brush and comb. Sometimes his hair would stay nearly flat,
but as soon as he put the comb down, TWING, up would jump some hair as if on a spring. 
Dad would say, "Look here, my lad, you can't go out like that." And Henry, who really wanted to look neat, would try again. But, 
as soon as he went out the door, a puff of wind would blow on his head, TWING, up would spring his hair, and in no time at all 
his head would look just like a hedgehog.
Poor Henry!
Sometimes Mum said, "Please comb your hair, Henry." 
 Sometimes she said, "Be a good boy and brush your hair." Sometimes she said, "WILL YOU MAKE YOURSELF TIDY!" in 
such a loud voice that the cat, the puppy and 
all the hens would start licking, cleaning, combing and 
smoothing. All of them thought, "She must mean me!"
"I hate this brush and I hate this comb," Henry would say to himself.
One day Dad said. "Henry, you will soon be nine. Is
there anything special that you would like for a birthday
present?"
"Can it be anything I like?" asked Henry.
"Well, yes," said Dad, "as long as it doesn't cost too much."
"It won't cost anything at all," said Henry, "I just want to leave my hair alone as long as I like."
 "I didn't think it would be THAT," said Dad.
"You said it could be anything."
"Not even a bike or a scooter?" Dad asked.
"No thanks. Just no brushing, combing or cutting for a while."
"Very well, I promised, but I don't know 
what Mum will say."
Dad soon found out what Mum had to say: "Just 
Think what he would look like! A mop! Everyone will 
think that I take no care of him at all."
But Dad could only say, "Never mind, it won't last long. He will soon 
forget."
When Jerry heard the news he thought it was very funny.
"What a mess you will be. Your hair will fall down on to your shoulders, 
and you'll look like a girl. Ha, ha, ha!"
But Henry's hair did not fall down over his shoulders. It grew very 
quickly, and stood up from the top of his head.
The other children at school laughed at him at first, but later they grew 
used to the strange sight. Still later, they began to think that Henry's
hair was wonderful; it grew so fast and far from his head. People looked at 
him in the street. One man even drove his car into a pole while he
was looking at Henry instead of the road.
Henry became famous!
"I don't want him to be famous," Mum said to Dad. "Boys should not be 
famous for not cutting their hair. Won't he take a scooter instead?"
"No, he won't," said Dad, "and I don't know why. He must have all sorts of 
trouble with THAT hair."
But Jerry was really to blame for the trouble. He used to tease Henry, 
"What a mess. You'll soon have to have it all cut off! Then you'll be just
an ordinary boy like me. Ha, ha, ha."
"I won't have it cut off," said Henry. And so the hair grew longer and 
longer.
Three months passed, seven, then a year, until Henry looked like a little 
haystack with legs.
He was now very famous, but he had made up his mind to have the hair cut 
soon because it was so heavy.
One day while Henry was fishing in a stream, he heard two birds chirping in 
a tree, just above him.
He sat quite still and listened.
The chirping grew louder.
It seemed as if the two birds were having an argument.
"I tell you, my dear, it's not a haystack. It's a boy's hair. You can't
make a nest there."
"Boy's hair or haystack, I like it. I want to make a nest there."
"But what if he walks
about, or goes into a
house?"
"We'll just keep still. We can easily hide in there. This is the best
 place for our nest."
"Very well, my dear, if you say so."
Then it seemed to Henry as if the birds had gone away. But that night, when 
he was in bed but not asleep, he heard a
little chirp, chirp from the top of his head.
Birds in his hair!!!
By day they were so quiet that no one but Henry knew they were there. 
While he was at school or at home, they
kept out of sight, but sometimes when he was in the garden, or down by the 
stream, he might hear a quick flap of
wings.
All this time the famous hair kept growing, fast and strong, until Mum and 
Dad wondered how it would end.
"Just think how heavy it must be. Why, oh why does he keep it all?"
"I thought he would have given it up long ago. Soon he won't be able to walk through the doorway. I wish he'd taken a scooter 
instead."
"There's one thing we might try," said Mum. "Now, listen to me."
At that moment Henry was listening too. He was outside, sitting on the grass, listening to little 
noises coming from
his hair. For some time he had heard or seen nothing at all, but just now there were all kinds of 
little noises, as if he
had a whole family of little birds in his hair.
It was easy to guess what had happened. He would have to wait until they could all fly before he had 
his hair cut!
"Now, Henry," said Dad, that evening, "we are going to have a party on Saturday for Mum's birthday. Jerry is giving
her a present and so am I. Would you like to give her something?"
"I would," said Henry. "What do you think she would like best? That's what I will give her!"
"Well," said Dad, "I think she really wants a Henry with short hair."
"Oh," said Henry, "I didn't think it would be THAT."
"You said she could have whatever she would like the best, and if you could have short hair, she would be very pleased."
"Oh," said Henry, and went outside to think. He met Jerry who had been listening at the door, and 
Jerry laughed at
him.
"Ha, ha, now you'll have to get it cut! You won't be famous any more! You'll be just an ordinary boy, 
an ordinary boy."
"I won't," said Henry. "You wait and see!"
At last he went to the barber's shop.
"My word," said the barber, "you're something new! Now let me see, I think I have an extra big pair of scissors, just right for this 
job. Please sit in 
this chair."
Snip, snip, snip, went the scissors.
"Goodness," said the barber, "there's a bird in the shop. It must have come in the window."
There, sitting on the light and looking down at Henry, was a little bird with bright green feathers 
and white patches
around its eyes.
"Be careful," said Henry, "there might be more."
"More?" said the barber. "I don't quite understand."
Snip, snip, snip, went the big scissors.
"Well, I never saw the like," said the barber. "Another bird. It seemed to come from my feet. What's bringing them inside? Now 
there's one on the light and one on the
bottle of hair oil."
"Be careful," said Henry.
Snip, snip, snip, went the scissors.
"Here's another," cried the barber, "and it came right
out of your hair. I'm sure of that."
"Be careful," said Henry. "That's only three."
"Only three? Do you mean to say there might be more
birds in your hair? I mean, in all the hair I've cut, there
hasn't been one bird. How many are there, may I ask?"
"I don't know," said Henry, "but there are a lot, so
please mind you don't cut them up."
"Very well," said the barber, "I'll take great care."
Snip, went the scissors.
"Now, that's a nice one," said the barber. "See, it has
yellow wings."
"Try by this ear," said Henry. "There's a blue and
yellow one there, and on top there's one that's a very good
singer." So they went on with the hair falling and the little
birds flying out until the whole room seemed to be full of
their chirping. They were perched on each bottle and
shelf; and even on the barber's head, and they all seemed
to have much to say about the hair-cutting.
Snip, went the scissors.
"There," said the barber, "that's the last bit of hair and
the sixteenth bird. Now, a little combing, a brush or two
and a dash of oil. What a different boy!"
"Thank you," said Henry, "how much is that?"
"Now let me see," said the barber, "I don't know the
cost of hair-cutting with birds added. Oh, let's make it free
this time shall we?"
Henry thanked the barber again, and left the shop. As
he left, the birds followed, flying above his head. You can be sure that everyone turned and stared at Henry, as he walked along 
with a little cloud of brightly coloured birds
above his head.
At home, Mum. Dad and Jerry were waiting to see the new Henry.
As he came in sight they all cried out with wonder:  "Where did you get those 
birds? Why are they following
you? Are they tame?"
"They are ours," said Henry, "and they are going to live in our gum tree."
"A lovely present!" said Mum. "Birds, and a boy with tidy hair."
As for Jerry he could say nothing, but never again did
he tease Henry.
Until the winter the birds stayed in the gum tree while
Henry was at home, and flew above him when he went out. On fishing days 
they would come to watch and eat extra
bait worms Henry might have. But as winter drew near, they flew off to warmer 
lands. Then there was nothing left to show that Henry had once had a famous head of hair. But, brush and comb as hard as he 
liked, there was one little tuft of 
hair that ALWAYS sprang up again … TWING!

Topknot Island
by Elsie Locke
illustrated by Tom Coomber

Glenice Robinson and Molly Windle sat with their legs over the side of the wharf. Glenice looked sad, 
and even Molly,
who usually looked happy, was silent. They wanted to go for a ride on the lake like all the other 
people. But Molly's
mother was frightened of the water and she would not let her go for a boat ride.
Lots of happy people got on the boat which was at the wharf. Glenice's father had given her the money 
for a ride. It
wasn't fair! She would not go without Molly. The girls had been given some sweets and told to walk to 
the park at
Three Pines Point. There was no fun in that.
Along came the captain shouting, "Hurry along now! Going in five minutes." He got on the boat. The 
engine started.
A boy came out of the cabin, wearing a hat just like the captain's. He helped some old people down 
the steps. Some
more people came on to the wharf.
The boy called, "Hurry up! Last chance to visit Topknot Island. Trips only once a week!"
The people jumped quickly on to the boat.
"We'd better get out of the way," said Glenice. When she stood up Molly wasn't there. She looked quickly around - but there was 
no Molly to be seen.
A voice called, "Glenice." Glenice looked around there was Molly on the boat.
"Come on, jump down!" Glenice jumped down on to
the boat without thinking. The boat moved away from the wharf.
"Oh what fun," said Molly. Glenice held Molly's hand as the boat began to move faster.
"What will your mother say?" asked Glenice.
"I don't know," came the reply, "but isn't this fun?" A cool wind began to blow. Some people went 
into the cabin, but
the girls stayed on top. Soon the little town was out of sight. The hills at the side of the lake 
were very steep. The girls
could hear sheep calling but they could not see them in the thick bush.
"A big sweet to the one who sees a sheep first," said Molly. They looked everywhere, but there were 
no sheep to be
seen. Some of the people joined in the game with them, but still no sheep were to be seen.
The girls stood looking into the water as it shot past. Their thoughts were far away. Suddenly 
someone shouted,
"Look! There is the island." Yes, it was near and very easy to see, with its bush and the big rock 
at the top which
gave it its name.
The boat was to stop at the island for half an hour. The captain said they could climb to Look-Out 
Rock. No one was
to go past there because the track was hard to see and it would take too long. He would blow the horn 
ten minutes
before the boat left again.
Molly and Glenice were first off the boat. They left their coats and sweets in a bush and ran up the 
steep track. In
seven minutes they were at Look-Out Rock.
"You can't see much from here," said Molly. "Let's go to the top."
"No," said Glenice. "The others will stop us."
"Then don't let them see you, silly. Come on." The girls made their way through the thick bush and 
came out on a
flat rock, above where they had been. The track stopped; they would have to jump the gap to go on.  
Molly ran out and jumped --- she could not hold on to the other side and fell into the bush below.
"Are you hurt?" shouted Glenice.
Molly was sitting on a bush. "I've cut my hand, but I'm all right. I don't know where the ground is. 
Can you get me
out?"
"No," said Glenice, "you are too far down. I'll run and get the others."
The horn of the boat was heard. Glenice ran off.
"Tell them to wait for me," said Molly. Glenice ran down to the track, until she came to a branch 
where two other
tracks went off. She did not know which one to take. She tried the left one. That was wrong. By the 
time she got back
on the right track the boat had left the island.
Glenice ran on to the rock and called out but they could
not hear her. The boat got smaller and smaller. She began to cry, "What will we do?" She walked 
slowly up the track
calling out to Molly.
"Molly! Ooo-hoo!" Everything was quiet. Glenice sat down and thought. Her mother had told her when 
she was in
trouble to sit down and think. So that is what she did. She called again -   there was a noise. 
She looked up and a
strange bird fly away to the right. Glenice followed it. but found that she had come back to the 
beach where the boat
had left them. There she found their coats and sweets.
"I'm hungry," thought Glenice. She was about to eat a sweet when she saw some ripe berries. There were 
lots of them.
She began to eat the berries; they were lovely. Deeper into the berry patch she went until she came 
out on a new
track.
"Ooo-hoo! Molly!" she called, but there was no sound.
What was that she could see ahead? It was an old house with a fruit tree outside. She ran to it and began to eat the ripe fruit.
" Molly!" she called again.
"Here. Come here," a voice called. It was not Molly; it
was a man.
Someone was in the house. The grass outside was long, and it looked as if no one had been there for a 
long time.
" Here, in the house. Come and help me," called the voice.
"Who is it?" said Glenice at the door.
"Come in. I can't come out." She went in.
On a bed sat an old man with one leg resting on a box.
"A girl," said the man. "I thought it was a boy."
"I am Glenice Robinson," she said. "I'm looking for my friend Molly, who is lost."
"Did you come on the boat? Could you get the captain?"
"The boat has gone and we are left behind."
"What was that?" said the man. The noise came again from above the house. It must be Molly. Glenice 
ran outside .
"Glenice! Glenice! Where are you?"
"Here I am, Molly. By the old house."
"How do I get down from this rock?"
The man in the house called out, "Tell her there are steps cut in the rock, near the lake.
Glenice told Molly, and soon the two were together again. Molly's hand was sore and so were her legs.
"Fruit!" shouted Molly and started to eat some.
"Molly, there's an old man in the house, and I think he's hurt."
The girls ran in.
"What is the matter?" said Molly. 
" I broke my leg four days ago and I've been here all by myself."
"Oh, you poor man. Let me make you some tea," said Molly.
"My name is Dick Lake. People call me Old Dick. I used to own a shop."
 The girls made some tea and talked with Old Dick. They all felt much better now.
"Can you guess what I am doing on the island?" said Dick.
The girls started guessing.
"No. Wrong!" said Dick. "Have a look around the hut for some ideas."
The girls found a camera, and Glenice remembered the strange bird.
"You are looking for birds," she said.
"Yes, " said Dick. "I take pictures of birds, and I am looking for a 
strange black and white bird that lives on this
island."
"I saw it," said Glenice, and she told Old Dick all about it.
They sat in the house and talked. Dick told them how he had fallen and 
hurt his leg. The girls had forgotten about
their parents, when Dick said, "We will just have to wait until your 
parents come out to get you"
"Oh!" said the girls. "They don't know we are here. We were told to go to 
the park at Three Pines Point. That's where
they will look."
"Go down to the beach and see if there are any boats on the lake."
Off went the girls. They sat on the beach until it was getting dark, but 
not a boat went by. They went back to the
house, very unhappy.
After a hard night's sleep the girls had some breakfast while Old Dick 
told them he had a small rowing boat. Molly wanted to row out on the lake to get help.
"No," said Dick. "That lake is deep and cold."
"Well, I'm going to find your boat and look for help," said Molly as she ran off.
"Come back!" called Old Dick and Glenice.
"The silly girl. We don't want two of us hurt," said Dick.
"Go down to the beach, Glenice. I'm sure some one will be out looking for 
you by now."
Glenice ran off. She wondered where Molly was. Old Dick said Molly would 
never find the boat, because he had it well hidden.
Molly, however, was not going to give up. She looked everywhere until she found the boat hidden under a bush.
She pulled it down to the water and got in. She had not rowed a boat 
Before, but she had seen others row lots of
times. The boat rocked but Molly kept rowing. It hurt her
sore hand but he would not stop.
Glenice heard a noise and looked around. There was
Molly in the boat.  "You are not going out on the lake, are you?"
"Yes," said Molly, "as soon as a boat comes. They won't see us standing here." The two girls stood on the beach and looked  
down the lake for any boat that might come. At last a boat did come. It 
was some men out looking for the girls
Glenice was the first to see it.
"Molly!" she called. "Quick, Molly!"
Molly got in the boat and rowed out as fast as her sore
hand would let her. The boat rocked and did not go
straight. 
On the big boat one of the men saw something white.
"There's a boat," he said.
"What - fishing?" said another. "They should be helping to look for the girls."
"That boat's rocking a lot. I don't think they are fishing. We had better take a look."
The boat headed for Molly.
"It 's a girl!" shouted one man.
"There's another on the beach, jumping up and down,"  said another. "We've found them!"
That is how the girls were found, and how Old Dick
was taken to hospital.
When the boat, with the rowing boat behind it, got to
the wharf at the town, all the people were there to meet them. Molly's 
parents were there, and Glenice's parents were
there, too. They looked happy to see the girls, but they also looked a 
little angry.
Old Dick was carried off the boat and taken to hospital. As he went, he 
called out to the girls: "Thank you! If it hadn't
been for you I would still be on the island, and my leg would have set 
wrongly."
"You look dirty!" said Molly's mother.
"I can row a boat," said  Molly. "Isn't that good?"
One of the men said, "It is good. We would not have found you but for 
that."
The girls had a lot of talking to do when they got home.
Some weeks later a present arrived for them. It was a beautiful bird book 
each from Old Dick. In his letter he thanked
them again and asked if they would come and stay with him next holidays. 
He said that Glenice could see all the baby birds and Molly could row the boat.
"Oh, what fun!" shouted the girls.
"Good old Topknot Island!"




