Pyro Watson and the Hidden Treasure Read Online Free PDF Page B

stopped ferreting around in her backpack and stood up. ‘Tra-da!’ she cried as she swung three pairs of flippers in the air. ‘Saved the best till last. Come on. No more fussing. Let’s get cracking. That tide’ll turn if we don’t get a move on and we’ll finish up out in the shipping lane before we know it.’
    â€˜Shipping lane?’ Mr Stig had plopped down on a rock that had lots of little sharp barnacles all over it. He didn’t flinch though. ‘Tide?’
    Pyro sat beside him. Even the frangipanis on Mr Stig’s shirt seemed paler as they both looked out to sea.
    â€˜We’ve got hours yet. The tide’s still on the way out. So, let’s go.’
    This time she didn’t move away. She stood right there and watched while flippers went on, goggles were attached and mouthpieces were shoved into mouths.
    Then she gave them a thumbs-up. It was the signal, she’d explained, to say we’re on the way and everything’s okay!
    Pyro wasn’t too sure about that. The first thing he discovered was that flippers don’t bend like shoes. If you walk in a shoe one foot leaves the ground and the other one bends, does its thing, and then lands in place. In flippers, Pyro found, it took forever for his foot to come up. It was like it’d been attached to the ground with glue.
    Pyro fell face first into the rock pool. Luckily his hands landed first and, before he could stop himself, he was peering down on the sandy bottom.
    And then he was peering across, under the water … he could actually see what the water looked like if you were a fish swimming upside down. He looked further. The rocks had water patterns all over them. Sun ripples.
    He crawled a little further. It was okay. He didn’t even have to float.
    It was brilliant.
    â€˜Hey, Stig!’ He spun around. ‘You should see this. And hey, you don’t have to swim or float or anything. Come and look!’
    Mr Stig did.
    Auntie Mor left them to crocodile-walk in the shallows while she pushed off over the deeper, rock-covered channel at the centre.
    Pyro looked across at her. He felt like a camera because he could see the bits under the water and then, with just a bit of a lift, he could see the bits above the water. Under. Above. Under.
    Soon he was finger-walking and then, before he knew it, his hands were trailing along beside him as he watched millions of tiny fish flash around beneath him. It wasn’t hard, this snorkelling stuff. He didn’t really need the noodly-thing but he hung onto it anyway.
    Once something bumped his side and his heart stopped as he waited for the pool to fill with his blood from the shark that must be back there somewhere. The pool didn’t fill and Mr Stig flowed past. He grinned inside his mouthpiece and then had to put his feet down because he was choking a bit. But it didn’t stop him. Pretty soon all three of them were floating around out in the middle.
    Gradually the water began to cool. Sneaky longer fingers of cold water mingled with the lovely warmth of the pool and Pyro glanced up to see a white wash of waves breaking happily across the little rock ledge.
    Mor had noticed it too and bobbed over to him. She took her mask off. ‘Time to go in,’ she said, and gave Mr Stig, who was still face down, a shove in the direction of the little sandy beach. ‘Tide’s coming in.’
    Pyro couldn’t believe what he’d done. His skin prickled with salt and his mouth felt like it was stretched four sizes too big. His nose wasn’t quite right yet, but … he’d been out there with a wobbegong and an octopus.
    â€˜We didn’t see the wobbegong,’ he announced. ‘Probably not even there.’
    Auntie Mor grinned. ‘Probably not, but the ocky is.’
    Pyro looked around. He half expected to find it sucking onto his boardies from the way Mor was pointing. ‘What?’ he