THE WENDY HUT

Wanganui Chronicle, Volume LXXXII, Issue 19443, 31 October 1925, Page 24 (Supplement)

THE WENDY HUT

WENDY MAKES A SPEECH (Introducing a GREAT NEWSTOR\-_> (Taken down in shorthand by One Who Heard It!) Ladies and Gentlemen, In response to numerous requests—(Don’t giggle like that. Tink)—in response to numerous —(Will you sit still, BillikinsTi —in response to numerous rehuests from members of our great and wonderful club, I have much pleasure to dav in introducing —(Billikins, eome back; you’ve got to listen)—m introducing a remarkable new story. The story has been specially written for us by —(You don’t have to clap vet, Tink. you little silly!) especially written for'us bv a very great personage! This great personage was once a bov himself —(Don t be idiotic, Billikins; of course, he was!) —once a boy himself, and he had a sister, and he lived in the very place where the scene of the storv is set—(Yes. ho did. Tink; you know he did!)—where the scene of the story is set, so that all the ' 1 local colour’’ is beautifully laid on—(They know exactly what I mean. Billikins; don’t you worry)—beautifully laid on! With this short and sadly interrupted introduction, ladies and gentlemen —(You can go straight off home and remain in your rooms for the rest of the day)—l will now retire and leave you to enjoy our great new ■tory—“The Treasure of The Cave.” A REAL ADVENTURE STORY FOB BOYS GIRLS. THE TREASURE OP THE CAVE. Tom pulled his dinghy to the side of the cliffs and rested on his oars. He looked across the sea toward the horizon where the dark clouds lay. “We’ll never do it, Phyl.” he told his sister. “That squall is coming over far too fast for us.” Tom nodded his head toward the shadow beneath the storm clouds where foaming white water showed up. not more than two miles away. “I’m going tc run into cave for safety,” he said. “Ooh. I say!” Phyllis clapped her hands. “What a jolly fine idea. Tom! I ’ve never been in the cave —I shall just love it!” “AH right. Phyl; don’t get so ex•ited! And, sit still, you silly girl, or vou’ll have us over! Now. no tricks; I’ll have to row like billy-ho to beat the squall to the cave.” And he had! Barely had he dipped his oars in the water when a spatter of heavy rain struck him in the face. Then came a horrid roar, like a wild beast howling, and the sea flattened out and became still. This was hi.* chance . . .while the terrific force of the wind pressed the water down, hr rowed like a man toward the cave. ‘Clack—clock.’ ‘clack —clock’—his oars beat time rapidly—straight into the narrow cleft in the rock face they glided. At the end of that gloomv tunnel was the cave itself: the : ‘ Smugglers * Cave.' ’ Then, with an awful roar, the win.' lifted and the sea began to Jas’ about and hiss at the cliffs. Th< squall made shouts like an angrj man—but Tom only laughed. They were safe!

Along the tunnel he pulled the dinghy: ‘into the big cave. It was not so very dark within the cave. The reflection of the water filled it with a dim, green light. Phyllis looked about her, when ther eyes became used to the shadowy gloom. The cave, which was said to be. once upon a time, a haunt for smugglers, had a high ami rocky roof. Great pillars of rock stood about its sides, as though human beings had cut them there, instead of the sea. A beautiful little beach of white hard sand was at the far end of the cavern and the water which filled its floor was calm and green and deep. “It’s a grand old place, isn’t it?” Tom asked. “Grr-r-r-and-011-play-ay-ayssss! ” It sounded like that —the echo! Poor Phyllis was nearly scared out of her wits! “Oh Tom —Tom, whatever is it?” she cried. Tom told her that it was only the boom of his voice, magnified, filling the place with sound. But. sowvhow, Phyllis seemed hardly to believe it. Trembling a little she steadied herself by gripping at the gunwale of the anchored dinghy and looked around. She half expected to see smugglers or something! She saw a light! “Oh, Tom —I say, Tom!” she whispered. “Look up there, above your head —in the —the roof . . . see; what ever can that be?” Tom laughed at her and turned. Then he too looked scared ami frightened. A mysterious light, like the gleam of a candle, glowed out of the end of a tiny tunnel in the rock, high above their heads! “Ssh!” Tom warned Phyllis to keep quiet. “Let’s wait and watch what it does.” “Oh Tom —do you—you think smugglers are here?’ “Oh. don’t bp so silly, Phyl? Smugglers—oh. mv hat! . . . whatever was that? ’ ’

Bang! . . . Such a terrific roar of sound! It echoed and rumbled through the hollow cave like thunder and almost deafened the children. Phyllis screamed a little—but she could not have been heard. The awful roar drowned all.

“An—an explosion!” Tom was very shaky. “Here Phyllis let’s get out of here—” Bang —Bang! Two more awful crashes of noise . . . and Tom immediately knew what caused them. Someone was firing a gun or a pistol—in the roof above their heads! Then: “I say you —you children—hallo there!” A man’s voice hailing them from above! They were discovered? When he heard that mysterious voice, Tom made no more ado but got back into the boat, pulled his sister after him and rowed towards the tunnel. The man’s voice sounded pleas ant enough, but, even so. he wasn’t going to trust himself and his sister to the company of a stranger who fired pistols or guns above their heads!

Again the voice from the roof of the cavern! “Hallo—hallo there, you two children! I say — don’t leave me here. I’ll do you no harm —I’m stranded and —and probably shall starve if you don’t help me?” That sounded reassuring. The mysterious stranger certainly had a pleasant voice. He didn’t sound like a ruffian. “Oh, poor man,” Phyllis sympathised. “Do stop, Tom; I’m sure he—--he’s a shipwrecked man, or—or something—” Tom drew the dinghy to a standstill. “He couldn’t get shipwrecked in here —besides, what’s a shipwrecked man got to fire shots for? And why should he be in the roof—with a light.” He thought a little. “No— I’m not going to risk it. I’m pulling into the tunnel. ’’ “Hallo—l—l’m not dangerous!” The mysterious man’s voice laughed now. “Just a minute, my boy—lf you won ’t trust me, please take a message to land for me—will you?” “To whom?” Tom was very cautious. “Go to Doctor Bailes in the High Street and tell him: Tom —Tom, mark you —is up in Smugglers’ Cave. His boat sank—he’s stranded/’ Both Phyllis and Tom gasped. Doctor Bailes was their father! “Who—who are you please? Tom wa« very cautious still, but a man who evidently knew his own father was to be trusted. “My name is Bailes —Tom Bailes — Doctor Bailes will know me; I’m his brother! ” “Then—then, please sir, you’ll be our—our uncle.” That was Phyllis’ trembling voice. “Our name is Bailes—daddy is Doctor Bailes, you know! ”

“I say —can —can it be—Phyllis and Tom?’”

That was sufficient proof! Tom immediately rowed the dinghy back to the centre of the cavern. This mysterious man was their own uncle Tom, who was supposed to be in China . . . he had proved that by calling them by name.

Their uncle lowered a rope from a hole in Ute roof and clambered down into the boat. He soon told his story. He had heard the story of a treasure hidden in the roof of the cave. Com ing home, he immediately set out in a motor boat to find it. He knew Smugglers’ Cave as well (probably better) than young Tom did. While searching for the hoard, his boat sank.

“But—why didn’t you come and see daddy—and us—first, Uncle Tom?” “I—l wanted to surprise him, Phyllis.” A frown was on their uncle’s face. “You see—cr —your dad and I quarrelled a long time ago. I—l thought if I found the treasure he —he would be pleased to see me again. And I’ve found it!” w =& Their uncle went up the rope first and hauled Tom and up after him. Their boat was safe; anchored fast beneath the hole in the roof of the cave. Their uncle’s motor boat had not been properly anchored and had drifted out of the cavern —hit the rocks—filled with water, and had gone down. That was how he had been left stranded high above the water, in the rocks.

The children now found themselves in another, and smaller cave —the real smugglers’ cave, this! Rough chairs and tables still littered its floor and a pile of very old heather showed where mce upon a time the smugglers had ind a bed made on the floor. One •ould still see the socket which had held their torch-lights, and the wall of ;he little cave was black with old soot. —Ami a big iron-bound chest was in one corner of the place! “I say—the treasure!” gasped Tom. “Yes. Turn, the Treasure.” Their uncle was smiling. “But I don’t know what’s inside the box yet —I’ve just been trying to open it . . . by firing at the locks with a revolver.” Then —“Can you stand the bang” he questioned, “if 1 blow the lock off, now?’’

“It —it can’t be much worse than the other three bangs you made,” laughed young Tom. “Go on uncle — we’ll stuff our ears tight!”

Bang!—lt was a terrible roar . . . but the lock was shattered! And there was the treasure! Books and papers and old firearms, by those the box was nearly filled. But, there were six big bags, full of golden guineas as well! Tom and Phyllis and their uncle had a glorious time clinking them together and counting them up! Treasure—smugglers’ gold. “Hundreds and hundreds of pounds’ worth” said their uncle “How jolly! Now let’s take the bags out and get down to the boat . . . then to sec my brother, your dad!” OUR SWEET-MAKING CORNER SUGAR STICKS. “Let’s make some sugar sticks” uaid Wendy. 11 They are very good and wholesome. “Take one pound of loaf sugar, one and a-half gills of water, and the juice of one lemon. Boil the sugar and water till large bubbles froth on the syrup and it begins to whiten; add the lemon juice and stir until a spoonful dropped into cold water breaks off short. Pour into a greased tin, and as it cools cut into strips and twist them into sugar sticks.”