THE TALKING SHELL by Kate Shaw Matiu was an unusual little boy. He liked being alone. I suppose it was because he liked imagining things. One day during the holidays he went off on a tramp to the top of Ngongotaha mountain. Before he left home he picked up one of Mum's small meat pasties and a couple of her buttered scones; these together with a bottle of milk he put in his haversack and away he went. He wandered along, taking his own time and finding a short cut here and there. Sometimes he would stop and look back at Lake Rotorua and the town; then he would take a good look at Mokoia Island because his family often went there for picnics and he loved the island. Past Mokoia he could see the lovely blue Lake Rotoiti. When he was hot and tired he would sip a little milk but he saved his lunch for later. He wanted to eat that when he reached the top. When he arrived there he climbed the trig and had a good look round. Then out came his pocket knife and he carved his name and the date on the highest plank he could reach. Now at last it was time to eat his tasty meat pie (Mum was the best cook in all the world) and he sat on the ground enjoying his lunch. As he idly poked the ground with his stick he was surprised to rake out a shell. It was white and old—a pipi shell, he thought. ‘Now I wonder,’ he said aloud, ‘I wonder however a pipi shell came to be away up here on top of Ngongotaha mountain.’ Imagine his surprise again when he heard a scratchy voice say ‘It's quite a story—I'll tell you if you like.’ ‘D-d-d-d-do you mean to say,’ he stuttered, ‘D-d-d-d-do you mean to say that you, a pipi shell, can speak?’ ‘Certainly I can speak, but only to one person at a time and only if that person is alone and interested.’ ‘Well, blow me down,’ said Matiu, ‘Tell me the story. I'm interested all right.’ ‘It was in the long long ago,’ said the pipi shell ‘In the time of your Arawa ancestor Ihenga. He was the great explorer, you remember. He was wandering along the shores of Lake Rotorua when