TOM RUTLEY’S REWARD

Northern Advocate, 29 May 1935, Page 4

TOM RUTLEY’S REWARD

(.Winning Entry in Competition, sent in by Frank Dorofaeff, Maunu, age 10). Tom Rutley, who lived 1 alone with his father on a farm near the cliff-tops at Walhaven, had one hobby—cars. It is true, he never owned one, for he was only ten years old, but he would sit for hours beside the road which wended its way along the cliffs, watching the cars as they dashed by. 'lhen one day, while Tom was in the village, he heard that a motor rally was to be held that very night, and part of its course was over the main coast road, which ran along the cliffs near his home. “Oh, I shall be able to watch a real race,” cried Tom, doing a little dance on his own. He hurried and broke ihe news to his father, but Mr Rutley was not so interested as his son. He had rather old-fashioned ideas and was no lover of cars. In fact, he told Tom he was not to go out to watch the rally. “It will be long past your bedtime,” he said, with a shake of his head. “It will only make you tired for school in the morning.” Tom fought hard to keep back the tears that welled in his eyes, f but he knew that he would never disobey his father. Evening came, with its heaving clouds, and Tom could see a nasty storm was brewing. "Come on, lad,” said Mr Rutley. “Help me to drive the sheep into the pen before it gets dark.” With the help of Buster, the sheep dog, this was soon done, and then it was found that one of the sheep was missing. “It must have wandered away from the rest of the flock,” said Mr Rutley to Tom, who stood toy the pen. “It must be found soon, otherwise it will fall over the side of the cliff in the dark and break- its neck.” The farmer would have gone in search of the animal himself, but he had strained his ankle that day, so Tom volunteered to go instead. ."Very well, lad,” said the farmer, “but take care of yourself.” As Tom made his way towards the (jliffs, big drops of rain began to fall every' few moments. The storm was at its height. Deafening thunder claps crashed overhead, while vivid stabs of lightning turned the darkness into day. Tom struggled on and presently heard a faint bleating on his left. He made his way in the direction from where it came, and presently found the sheep with one of its legs entangled in some thorny bushes. ' “You poor thing!” said Tom, as he bent down and released the frightened animal, which at once scampered off towards the farm. The boy was just going to* follow when he happened to glance down the main road close by. A peculiar, black, jagged line appeared to be running right across it, and Tom hurried over to see what it could be. Then he gave a cry of dismay, for the line was really a wide crack, and even as he looked there was a rumbling sound, and with a crash which nearly deafened the boy, the road beyond disappeared and fell in the boiling sea below. The thundering waves had) claimed' yet another victory in their battle with the land. Tom stood terrified, wondering what to do, for any moment now one of the cars of the rally might tear along the road and hurtle to destruction on the beach below. In that wild, lonely spot there was no telephone box from which he could send warning. His watch said it was ten minutes past eight, and the rally had already started. 4 If only he had a lamp he could stand in the road and warn the drivers as they came along. But he might have wished for the moon. Despair in his heart, the boy stood at the spot where the road: ended so abruptly. And then new hope came : to him, as he suddenly remembered something he had Seen On. his way home from the village that day. At one point of the road leading to the cliffs was a forked turning, one branch of which led to the farm, and to prevent the drivers going the wrong way a white barrier had been erected across the private road! Without hesitation, the boy dashed across the fields, careless of the storm which battled about him. The rain was coming down in sheets, but Tom went on, soaked to the skin and out of breath. He stopped to listen, but could hear no sound apart from the howling of the wind and the frequent claps of thunder. At last the white barrier was in sight, and he climbed over the hedge and hurried towards it. "No sign of any tyre could be seen in the road, so none of the cars had yet passed. If only he could move that barrier so that it blocked the main road' the motorists would be out of danger. But this was easier said than done, as Tom soon found when he tried to move it. The barrier was solidly built and had sunk into the mud. Exerting his strength the boy strained every muscle, and at last the barrier was shifted halfway across the road leading to the cliff. But even now Tom thought he would be too late, for through the rain he saw two pin-points of light coming rapidly nearer—the first car was in sight. Careless of his own safety, the boy tugged and pushed for all he was worth; inch by inch the barrier moved across the road. The roar of the car’s engine could be clearly heard, and Tom knew at any moment now it would be upon him. A ’foot or two of the barrier was still across the road leading to the farm', but by a last despairing effort Tom succeeded in pushing it right home, and only just in time. Even as the boy sunk to the ground exhausted, the approaching car roared up. to the barrier, lights full on, and turned rapidly down the road leading to the farm. After a few yards, however, the driver realised by the uneven ground that he must be on the wrong road, and quickly brought his car to a standstill. He jumped out, hurried back to the main road and soon found Tom, who was struggling to his feet. “Who put this thing across the road,” cried the driver, angrily. “It has spoiled the race!” “I did,” replied Tom. quietly, and then told the driver what had happened. "Well, you’re the brightest kid I’ve ever met,” said the motorist, when the boy had finished. “What would l have happened if I had gone dtown the main road I dare not think. You have saved many lives tonight, my boy. and everyone will be grateful to you.” One by one the other motorists came dashing up. and when they heard what Tom' had done they gave him three hearty cheers. By now the storm had passed, and the motorist who had first appeared on the scene drove Tom back.

to the farm, where his father was anxiously awaiting his return. Next morning the papers gave an account of Tom Rutley’s brave action, but this did not interest Tom nearly as much as the promise of a driver to take him as a passenger when the rally was re-run the following wee(k. “You will let me go, won’t you, dad?” looking up with hopeful eyes. “Why, of course, lad,” said Mr Rutley. “I’m too proud of you to say no.” ■ —Copied.