The Dragon in the Cliff by Sheila Cole Read Free Book Online

good. She gave me the coin, which I accepted with a curtsy.
    I ran all the way to Mama with the half crown. It was more than anyone ever paid Papa for an ammonite. It was enough money to pay for bread, butter, and even tea and sugar for a week.
    Mama cried for joy and hugged me hard, holding me for a long time. Recovering herself, she wiped the tears from her cheeks and began to scurry around the kitchen, putting things away. Then stopping abruptly, she ordered Ann to fetch some buns from the baker’s. When we were eating them at supper that evening, she asked me to tell her again about the lady in the black spencer and how she gave me a half crown for a curiosity, which I did, except for the part about the boys and their rude remarks. She repeated the story herself every time a neighbor asked how we were getting on in the days that followed. With every telling, Mama and I grew more convinced that we could manage.

A COSTLY MISTAKE
    I soon discovered that a half crown does not go far when there are four people to feed and keep warm, nor are ladies who pay a half crown for an ammonite encountered often. Most importantly, I quickly learned that if we were to survive, I had to find curiosities and sell them all the time. With these discoveries, finding curiosities soon changed from a game to a necessity that required all my energy, ingenuity, and skill. On a particularly unsuccessful day, when I was about to give up and return home empty-handed after hours of searching, I spied a new slide further down the beach. It was growing late and the tide had long since turned, but driven by need, I went over to see what it might contain. It was a rich slide and within a few minutes I had found a sea lily. The next thing I knew the water was lapping at my heels. I’ll get wet, I thought, annoyed at myself for being foolish. I began to walk back along the beach toward town.
    But my way was barred by the rising tide. I did not get very far before the waves were threatening to sweep me off my feet as they came rushing in, one on the heels of the other. There was no way for me to escape except by climbing up over the cliffs, which rose up in front of me like a wall. I searched the face of the cliffs, looking for a way to climb up out of the reach of the water. I ran through the surf, looking frantically, seeking some softening in the almost perpendicular wall of rock.
    At last I spied what looked like a ledge, really only a small indentation in the cliff. I scrambled up to it with difficulty and looked down. The waves were crashing at the base of the cliff, but I was out of their reach.
    I clung to that spot, thinking that I was safe and could remain there until the tide receded. Then, without warning, a large wave came crashing at my feet. The tide was continuing to rise. In sheer terror, I crawled up the face of the cliff, like a fly on a wall, finding a toehold and then pulling the rest of my body up to it with the aid of the projecting rocks. Each move was an agony. I cut my hands on the sharp rock and ripped my skirt. A slippery piece of shale almost made me fall.
    At last, having reached a place where I could stand, I stopped to catch my breath. I looked down. The ledge I had first stood on was covered by water now, and still the waves seemed to be mounting. How high would they go? I was afraid to think.
    Desperately scanning the cliff, I looked for some way that I might get out of reach of the waves. High above me there were some bushes clinging to the cliff’s face. Looking up at them I realized that those bushes meant safety. The water did not reach that high or else they would not grow there. I had to get up to them.
    I began my slow crawl up the face of the cliff again. I pulled myself from projecting stone to projecting stone, creeping higher and higher. As I came up to the level of the bush that had been my goal, I grabbed hold of its trunk to pull myself up further. It pulled out of the cliff in my hand, sending me