Pyro Watson and the Hidden Treasure Read Free

he sailed off to the horizon.
    A cloud, small and dark, blocked his vision. ‘Of course,’ he added in a serious voice, ‘the Dreaded Roaring Roy is still at large …’
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    â€˜You’ll turn into a prune if you don’t get out of that puddle soon,’ Auntie Mor was saying as she picked up towels and shirts and thongs. ‘What d’you reckon? Ready for some lunch?’
    Pyro hauled himself out of the sandy pool. The tide was coming in and filling up all the hidey places under the casuarina trees that lined the inlet. They’d have been great places to hide treasure if it wasn’t for the tide.

    â€˜Always check above the high water mark!’ San Simeon reminded his men when they were on a mission to find stolen treasures.
    â€˜What’s wrong with under those trees?’ a newcomer asked.
    â€˜Aha! There’s many a pirate’s been left on a desert island with naught but a bottle of water for company who’d made that mistake. The tide, boy, the tide! Always remember the tide!’
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    â€˜It’s quicker if we cross over there,’ Auntie Mor was saying as she set off down a small embankment. ‘It’ll save us walking all the way around the top.’
    â€˜There’s some stairs over this way.’ Pyro pointed to a steep stairway that had been built a little further along.
    Waves were already lapping against the rocks and sending long, silent surges into the bank. ‘You’ll get wet,’ Pyro called. ‘And it’s all boggy over there.’
    â€˜Nonsense.’ Auntie Mor headed off.
    So did Mr Stig.
    Pyro didn’t like the look of the bog that was quickly forming around the deeper rocks. It looked very sucky and he had a sneaking suspicion that underneath that sand would be black ooky mud.
    Always remember the tide! ‘The tide’s coming in!’ Pyro yelled.
    It didn’t take long to get to the top of the stairway. There was time for Pyro to hurry around to the other end of the beach where Mr Stig and Mor were trying to scrape the mud off their legs.
    â€˜You’d reckon someone’d put a sign up telling you not to cut across that bit of swamp!’ Auntie Mor said.
    Mr Stig pointed out the stairway that was built into the side of the bank.
    â€˜I think we were supposed to use that,’ he said.
    Auntie Mor told him nobody loved a smartie pants and if he was so clever about deciding which way they should have gone, perhaps he’d speak up sooner next time.
    Pyro went with them to the camper and helped with lunch. Afterwards Mr Stig sat with the paper and studied the form while Mor took some photos and then found her book.

    San Simeon wandered alone across the dunes. It was lonely when his lads were away. The time, he decided, should be put to good use. You never knew when itmight be necessary to find a hiding place or a lookout, and this part of the world was quite unknown to him.
    He set off.
    As he went he thought a parrot would be a nice thing to have. It could sit on his shoulder and he could teach it all sorts of famous sayings. He would think further about it while he searched out the hidden secrets of this strange land.
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    There were some excellent hiding places and even a tree with a rope attached that would let you swing across the narrow channel instead of wading through the muddy part. A rowing boat was lolling around in the little waves and the bridge further along would be great for leaping off, if that was something you needed to do. Which Pyro didn’t.
    The town was beyond the bridge and, back the other way, some picnic tables and benches and barbecues perched on the escarpment that led down to the inlet and the ocean.
    And Pyro had explored all of it and it was still only two o’clock.
    Auntie Mor had given him a postcard and suggested he write a letter to his mum. She said it mightn’t be agood idea to mention getting stuck in the bog as she knew Deirdre