Roar to the Rescue! Read online

  Ian Whybrow is a bestselling author of over a hundred books who is proud to have been listed as one of the top ten most-read writers in UK libraries. Among his most popular characters are the hugely successful Harry and the Bucketful of Dinosaurs, the barking mad Sniff and the much-loved Little Wolf. Ian lives in London and Herefordshire.

  www.harryandthedinosaurs.co.uk

  Look out for more adventures with Harry and the Dinosaurs:

  THE SNOW SMASHERS!

  Ian Whybrow

  Illustrated by Pedro Penizzotto

  PUFFIN

  PUFFIN BOOKS

  Published by the Penguin Group

  Penguin Books Ltd, 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA

  Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario, Canada M4P 2Y3

  (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.)

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  (a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty Ltd)

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  (a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd)

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  Penguin Books Ltd, Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  puffinbooks.com

  First published 2011

  Text copyright © Ian Whybrow, 2011

  Cover illustration copyright © Adrian Reynolds, 2011

  Text illustrations copyright © Pedro Penizzotto, 2011

  Character concept copyright © Ian Whybrow and Adrian Reynolds, 2011

  All rights reserved

  The moral right of the author and illustrators has been asserted

  Except in the United States of America, this book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser

  ISBN: 978-0-14-196240-5

  For the Campbell children, Tom, Anna, Laura and Sophie, with my grateful thanks for their encouragement and advice

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 1

  ‘Hey, look! It’s the kid with the bucketful of dinosaurs!’

  Harry was walking across the playground towards the school gates, deep in thought. His neighbour, Mr Oakley, had been robbed at the weekend and Harry was trying to think of a way that he and his friends could help. When he heard the shout, he froze for a second. He knew that voice. It was nasty and it belonged to Rocco Wiley.

  Harry was old enough to know that if a well-known bully who’s bigger and older than you starts shouting, it’s best not to hang about. Besides, Harry could hear the sniggers of Rocco’s mates. They were loud kids, always in trouble. One of them, Philip Wells, was called to the headteacher’s office at least once a week.

  Harry tried to stay calm and keep walking.

  ‘I’m talking to you, Dino-boy!’ said Rocco, louder this time. There was more laughter from his mates.

  Harry stopped and turned. He saw the three boys, who were wearing identical hooded tops. They were standing with their hands in their pockets, and one boy had a foot flat against the wall.

  Harry shook his head and laughed. He hoped he sounded like a person enjoying Rocco’s joke and spread out his hands. ‘Look, no bucket!’ he called. ‘And no dinosaurs. I haven’t had anything to do with dinosaurs for years.’

  ‘Thought you were a bit of a star, did you?’ sneered Rocco. ‘I bet you loved it in Assembly this morning – showing off, everyone clapping you!’

  ‘I had nothing to do with it,’ Harry said. ‘Mrs Rance was talking about ages ago! I used to be nuts about dinosaurs, that’s all.’

  ‘Yeah, right!’ said Rocco. ‘Like a baby playing baby games with baby toys. And I don’t like that kind of stuff, do I, boys?’

  ‘Nah! You hate baby stuff, Rocco!’ agreed Philip.

  Harry sighed and took another couple of steps towards the gate.

  ‘Wait up, Dino-boy,’ shouted Rocco. ‘If you’ve grown out of baby toys then this won’t worry you one bit.’ He pulled a plastic dinosaur out of his pocket. It was small, and even from a distance Harry recognized it at once by the sail-shape fan on its back. It was a spinosaurus.

  From his other pocket, Rocco pulled out a lighter. His friends cheered as he flicked it on and off.

  Harry swallowed nervously. Lighters were dangerous and they weren’t allowed at school.

  Rocco grinned as a yellow flame shot up from the lighter, quite high.

  His little gang of admirers looked impressed. ‘Whoa!’ they yelled, jumping back.

  ‘What are you doing?’ asked Harry. ‘You shouldn’t have that at school.’

  But Rocco just laughed. Then, very slowly, he pushed the head of the tiny plastic spinosaurus into the flame.

  Before he could stop himself, Harry was shouting, ‘Don’t!’

  ‘Ah, diddums!’ teased Rocco. ‘Come and kiss it better!’

  Quickly, his mates moved in to back him up. Three against one. Rocco started waving the spinosaurus about. It made the plastic start to blaze and give off lots of black smoke.

  Harry couldn’t stand it. ‘You cowards!’ he yelled, and rushed at them all.

  Maybe it was the shout. Maybe it was the fierce light in Harry’s eyes that scared them. Whatever it was, Rocco’s mates turned and ran.

  Philip Wells held his nose and started waving the back of his hand while he retreated, as if Harry was part of the smoky stink. ‘Smell you later!’

  Rocco flung down the blazing dinosaur and stamped out the flames. ‘All yours, Dino-boy,’ he sneered, heading past Harry towards the gate.

  Harry waited until he was sure he was alone before he bent down and picked up the blackened plastic dinosaur. He had risked a beating for it. Maybe that was why he wrapped it carefully in a tissue and put it in his pocket.

  Chapter 2

  When Harry put on his pyjamas that night, he remembered the spinosaurus. Covered in white tissue it looked like a tiny Egyptian mummy. He unwound the paper in the light of his bedside lamp. The creature was burnt and twisted by the flame, but you could still see what it was. He took it to the bathroom and ran it under warm water from the tap, straightening it and giving it a good clean-up with the wetted tissue.

  When he had finished, it didn’t look too bad, though the fan on its back was ragged now. He ran his finger along the body from nose to tail, stroking the twisted ridges of the dinosaur’s wounded spine. One eye had melted, he noticed. And the dinosaur had a little hole through its tail.

  ‘Oh, grow up!’ Harry whispered to himself. ‘You’re too old for toy dinosaurs. Put it in the bin,’ he said aloud.

  But he couldn’t do it. Suddenly he found himself climbing on to the bathroom stool. Something made him tuck the creature out of sight in a small box of plasters on the top shelf of the wall ca
binet. As he clicked the cupboard door shut, he could have sworn he heard a hiss like air from a punctured tyre.

  As he headed back to bed, he thought about what had happened. It was Mrs Rance’s fault. Without meaning to, she had landed him in trouble with a horrible bully!

  Mrs Rance had been Harry’s first teacher when he started school and she was still in charge of Reception. At Thursday Assembly, when it was Reception’s turn to do something, her class had acted out a story about dinosaurs and sung a song.

  But before they got started, she had pointed Harry out in the audience and made him turn bright red. ‘We’re going to show you some of the work we’ve been doing on dinosaurs,’ announced Mrs Rance. ‘I’m afraid we haven’t got any dinosaur experts who know quite as much as …’ She put her hand over her eyes and gazed around. ‘Where are you, Harry? Ah, there you are!’ When everyone in the school had turned to stare at him, she asked, ‘How many of you can remember the wonderful talk Harry gave when he was in my class?’

  ‘Meeee!’ cheered a couple of hundred kids and threw their hands into the air. Harry’s friend Jack, sitting next to him on the bench, reached round and patted him on the back. Everyone remembered the serious little boy standing on the stage, clutching a seaside bucket. They had watched as he dipped into it and started pulling out all sorts of plastic dinosaurs. He had introduced them all by their names – apatosaurus … anchisaurus … scelidosaurus – and started giving a talk.

  Once he had got going on his favourite subject, nobody could stop him! On and on he went about what they ate for breakfast, what armour they had, what damage they could do, how long they were from nose to tail, how heavy they were … He even knew which ones were from the Cretaceous period and which ones were from the Jurassic period.

  In the end, the Head, Mrs Potts, had come on stage and taken his hand and gently dragged him off.

  But until Rocco Wiley started giving him a hard time, Harry had pretty much stopped thinking about dinosaurs. At some point in his life, although he couldn’t remember exactly when, it had suddenly felt very strange to be dragging a bucketful of plastic dinosaurs about with him everywhere he went. But he couldn’t quite bring himself to throw them away. That was why he had decided to put the dinosaurs back where he had found them – up in the attic.

  Every now and then, maybe when he was lying quietly on his bed, he would remember the moment when he had discovered the cardboard box full of plastic models of dinosaurs. He pictured himself up in the attic, helping Nan give it a clear- out. He remembered struggling down the steps with the box and laying out its hidden treasures one by one on the kitchen floor. The dinosaurs were filthy, covered with sticky dust, and lots of them were bent or broken. But he had washed them in the kitchen sink and straightened out a number of them. Some had looked as if they were beyond repair, but he had used a tube of glue and did a good job of sticking broken legs and tails back into place.

  Sam, his older sister, had come in and told him he was stupid, wasting his time with a load of dusty old junk.

  Nothing much had changed between them since then. She still treated him like an idiot most of the time. Naturally, he had taken no notice of her. Instead, he’d made up his mind that the dinosaurs couldn’t possibly go back into the box. He remembered explaining to Nan that they wanted to live in a bucket and how she had understood perfectly.

  ‘That is definitely the right place for them,’ she had agreed.

  The next day, Mum had taken Harry to the library and helped him find his first book about dinosaurs. That was when the plastic models had come alive for him. Once he had found out their names, he had worked out a way of making them belong to him.

  ‘You are my Steg-o-saur-us!’ he had whispered to the little creature with the double row of pointed plates along its back.

  And then it had seemed to Harry that the dinosaur started to answer back. ‘S-s-steg …’ stammered the stegosaurus, its armoured plates rattling. And then it said, ‘Oh!’ and then, ‘Sore!’ Finally it added, ‘Us.’

  Once the dinosaurs knew their names, Harry had a link with them. All he had to do was say them out loud and they would obey him. Some people have imaginary friends; Harry had a band of loyal followers who lived in a bucket. They joined in all his games and would go with him wherever his imagination led.

  Harry had enjoyed all that, but these days he was embarrassed by it. He was older now and he had important things to think about. Like watching out for Rocco Wiley. Harry had hurt Rocco’s pride. He and his hoodie mates would be looking for revenge.

  But before Rocco had started picking on him, Harry had been trying to deal with a serious problem. He’d discovered that his neighbour, Mr Oakley, had been robbed. Harry and his friends liked mysteries and detective work. Tomorrow they were going to gather in their special meeting place and get on the case.

  If we can just catch that robber and help Mr Oakley get his money back, Harry thought as he climbed into bed, maybe Rocco will respect me a bit more. At least it’ll change his mind about me still playing baby games.

  Chapter 3

  After school the next day Harry was pleased to find Jack and Charlie by the bike rack, calling for him to get a move on.

  ‘Come on, slow coach!’ grinned Jack, tapping his watch and then tugging at the strap of his crash-helmet. ‘What kept you?’ he asked. His grey eyes twinkled. Jack didn’t usually say much. He was more of a mini action-man, not scared of anyone or anything. There was nothing he couldn’t do on his BMX and he was always ready to go-go-go!

  Before Harry could answer him, Charlie was butting in. Shining black curls of hair punched their way out from under her helmet. She wasn’t on her bike, but she had her faithful dragon skateboard tucked under her arm. She had painted the dragon on it herself. It was brilliant, all rippling gold and red.

  ‘Hurry up!’ she urged. She threw down the board. No sooner had its wheels hit the dirt than she was on the move.

  In seconds, Harry had his helmet on too and was swinging on to the saddle of his bike.

  Suddenly a tall, serious boy of Harry’s age with chestnut-brown skin stepped in front of him. He wore glasses and his hand was raised like a policeman stopping traffic. It was Janeka Siriwardena, known to most people as Siri.

  ‘I advise you to be careful!’ said Siri, his bright eyes lighting up.

  ‘What’s up, Siri?’ asked Harry. ‘Aren’t you coming with us?’ He looked round to check that no one was listening and lowered his voice. ‘Remember, we’re meeting at the G.O.?’

  ‘I haven’t got my bike with me,’ sighed Siri. ‘My parents have been reading about road accidents. Dad thinks the roads are too dangerous for cyclists.’

  ‘Well, where are you meant to ride a bike?’ Jack wanted to know.

  ‘Bad luck!’ laughed Harry. ‘This is what happens when you have professors for parents! Tell your dad we’ve all got our Cycling Proficiency certificates.’

  ‘I did,’ said Siri. ‘But Dad won’t listen to me.’

  ‘You don’t have to ride your bike,’ said Charlie. ‘You can ride mine instead! We can go to my house on the way and pick it up. It’s just round the corner.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ he asked.

  Charlie nodded. ‘Of course. Mind you, you won’t be able to beat me on my dragon-board!’

  ‘We’ll see about that!’ said Siri, looking much happier.

  ‘So what are we waiting for?’ asked Jack, riding circles round them all on his BMX. ‘Let’s go!’

  Chapter 4

  The G.O. – or Great Oak – was at least four hundred years old, possibly more. It was in the centre of a small wood, a good half-mile down the lane towards Woodseaves.

  The G.O. was so wide that if four children stood round its trunk and tried to link hands (as Harry and his friends had once done) they couldn’t get near one another. But if you scrambled up among the lowest branches and removed a bit of sacking you would find there, you could slide down into a spacious and secret room. It smelled pl
easantly of dead leaves.

  When Harry and Siri finally reached the wood, there was no sign of Jack’s bike or Charlie’s skateboard. That was good. It meant that they had followed the rules about not drawing attention to the den. Harry and Siri did the same and hid their bikes in the undergrowth. Then they pushed in among the thickets until Siri was standing with his hands against the trunk of the Great Oak. They looked up and saw Jack – way up among the top branches – waving down at them.

  Siri crouched down so Harry could climb on to his shoulders. When Siri stood up, Harry grabbed the lowest branch and scrambled astride it. From there he was able to see the entrance. Through the sacking cover came the glow of a camping lamp.

  ‘Ladder, please!’ called Harry.

  Charlie surfaced with a rope ladder. One end of it was anchored to an ancient root, deep down in the chamber, so it held fast as Siri struggled up, aided by Harry and Charlie. Silently, they slid down into the warm dark belly of the ancient tree.

  ‘Order, order, fellow GOGOs,’ panted Siri, although nobody had said anything. It was his idea that they should have a chairperson for meetings. It was also his idea to name the gang the GOGOs – they were all members of the Grand Order of the Great Oak. The others were happy to let him get on with it. As he spoke, Jack dropped down through the entrance from the higher branches above.

  ‘Now,’ said Siri seriously. ‘We are gathered here because our good friend Mr Oakley has been robbed of three hundred pounds. We know that the crook was driving a red van, which is our first clue.’

  ‘I’ve got a plan!’ said Charlie fiercely. ‘We’ll fill socks with mouldy oranges and bash his van with them, and we won’t stop till he gives back the money.’