The 101 Dalmatians (11 page)

Pongo did know it. His plan had been to let his puppies stay at Hell Hall until they were a little bigger, while he and Missis kept watch over them, ready to rescue them if danger threatened. He told the Colonel this.

“And that's exactly what you must do,” said the Colonel.

“But what about the other puppies?”

“I shall spread the news of them throughout England. Other parents may come to the rescue.”

“I doubt it, after all this time,” said Pongo.

“If the worst comes to the worst, would your pets give them a home?”

Pongo couldn't imagine the Dearlys refusing to help any dog. But getting on for a hundred! Still, the drawing room was very large.

“I don't believe they'd turn them away,” he said. “But, Colonel, I could never get the whole lot of them to London.”

“Not as they are, of course. Every dog jack of them has to be trained. They must learn to march, to obey orders—I may teach the bigger ones how to forage.”

“I wouldn't mind learning that myself,” said Pongo.

“Splendid! Now how about trying your mouth at carrying this pail? That's a trick you ought to learn. No, no—hold your head farther out. Then the pail won't bang into your chest. Excellent!”

Pongo found that he could carry the bucket of water quite easily. His spirits were rising now. With this wonderful old Colonel to help him, he would rescue every puppy. He set the bucket down in the Folly.

“You're looking better,” said the Colonel. “You may be able to sleep now. There's nothing more you and your lady can do until it's dark. Then you shall meet your family. Meanwhile, I'll send in word that you've arrived.”

Something was puzzling Pongo. “Colonel, why did Cruella steal so many Dalmatians? She can't want more than one Dalmatian fur coat?”

The Sheepdog looked astonished. “Surely you know her husband's a furrier? I understand she only married him for his furs.”

So that was it! Pongo had forgotten. But if the de Vils planned to sell Dalmatian coats to the public, then Hell Hall was nothing less than a Dalmatian fur farm and no Dalmatian would ever be safe again unless Cruella's career came to an end. “I must cope with that when I get back to London,” thought Pongo grimly as he mounted the stairs.

He found Missis stretched out on the bare boards by the window. She had watched until the puppies had all gone in, then toppled into sleep. He pulled straw around her and lay down very close, to keep her warm. She did not stir. His last waking thoughts were humble ones. He had expected the Sheepdog to be some doddering old country gaffer. How much now depended on this shrewd, kind old soldier!

It was dark when the Colonel woke them.

“All still well with the pups, but no news of any other parents over the Twilight Barking. I sent word of your safe arrival, and good wishes to you came pouring in. All Dogdom awaits news from this quiet village. I've said you'll bark a few words yourself when you're fully rested.”

“Willingly,” said Pongo.

“Now down we go to dinner,” said the Colonel.

They went down and had an excellent meal of sausages which the cat had collected during the day. She was away at the farm—the Colonel said there would be hurt feelings if she did not join her pets at tea, to drink a saucer of milk. “And I must go back later, because my young pet, Tommy, likes me there while he has his bath. So let's be moving.”

He rose and pushed open a window. “The defences of Hell Hall are childish,” he said. “What's the use of padlocked gates at the front when one can get in at the back, through this Folly?”

Pongo then saw that the Folly had a door and a window opening onto the grounds of Hell Hall as well as the door and window opening onto the heath, and was, indeed a sort of gatehouse. The Colonel had originally entered through the window on the heath side. The door into the grounds was bolted on the Hell Hall side, so the Colonel led Pongo and Missis through the window.

“Now we'll be cautious,” he said. “That window might blow shut, and there's no handle on the outside. And it might take some time to unbolt this door.” He drew back the bolt on the door into the Folly, pushed the door open, and rolled a heavy stone against it. “Now, if you should want to get out in a hurry—But I don't think you will. Shouldn't wonder if you couldn't spend the night with your pups.”

Missis gasped with delight and began to ask questions.

“I'll explain as we go,” said the Colonel, starting towards Hell Hall.

A full moon was rising above the black house.

“Colonel, what's that on the roof?” said Pongo. “Surely it isn't
television—
here?”

“Oh, yes, it is,” said the Colonel. “And there's scarcely a cottage in the village hasn't got it since the electricity came. Mostly on the Hire Purchase—though there won't be much Purchase here. I'm told the Badduns haven't paid anything for months.”

He then outlined his plans, and it soon appeared that television played an important part in them. The Baddun brothers were so fond of it that they could not bear any puppy to bark while it was on. And unless the puppies were warm, they barked like mad. The warmest room in the house was the kitchen—which was where the television set was—so that was where the pups now lived (unless they were taking exercise in the stableyard). Some pups liked watching the television, some just slept; anyway, none of them barked, so the Badduns could enjoy themselves in peace. All this the Colonel had heard from Lucky during long, barked conversations.

“That lad of yours is as bright as a button,” said the Colonel. “He's months ahead of his age.”

Pongo and Missis swelled with pride.

The plan was that Lucky should bring his brothers and sisters out to the stableyard while the Badduns were watching television.

“But it will be too cold for them to stay out long,” said the Colonel, “and I don't see why you shouldn't go back into the kitchen with them. Lucky tells me there's no light except from the T.V. screen, so if you crunch down you should be quite safe. Even if the Badduns do see you, they'll just think you're two of the larger pups. But there's hardly any chance you will be seen because Lucky tells me the Badduns stay glued to the T.V. until it ends and then roll over and go to steep—they've got mattresses on the kitchen floor. I see no reason why you shouldn't spend the night there. I'll call you at dawn and you can get out before the Badduns wake.”

Pongo and Missis thought this was a wonderful idea.

“Can we sleep there every night?” asked Missis.

The Colonel said he hoped so and that it was at night that the pups would have to be drilled and trained for their march to London.

“Lucky says nothing wakes the Badduns, so
I
plan to come into the kitchen. I shall hold classes there and drill ten pups at a time in the stableyard. But you two must spend a quiet night there first and report conditions to me.”

By now they were almost at the stableyard.

“Don't tell me any more now, Colonel,” said Pongo. “I'm too excited to take it in. Are you all right, Missis?”

For Missis was trembling. “I can't believe I'm really going to see them,” she said.

The Colonel opened the gate to the stableyard. Missis gave a soft moan and hurled herself across the yard. She had seen Lucky. There he stood, at the back door, waiting for them.

And behind him, in the long, dark passage leading to the kitchen, were all his brothers and sisters. Who could describe what the mother and father felt during the next few minutes, as they tried to cuddle fifteen wagging, wriggling, licking puppies all at once? Everyone tried to be quiet, but there were so many whimpers of bliss, so much happy snuffling, that the Sheepdog got nervous.

“Will they hear in there?” he asked Lucky.

“What, the Badduns?” said Lucky—rather indistinctly, because he had his mother's ear in his mouth. “No, they've got their precious television on extra loud.”

Still, the Colonel was relieved when the first joy of the meeting was over.

“Quiet, now!” said Pongo.

“Quiet as mice!” said Missis.

But they were pleasantly surprised at how quiet the pups instantly were. The only sound came from some dead leaves stirred by fifteen lashing little tails.

“Now, still!” said Lucky.

All the tails stopped wagging.

“I'm teaching them to obey orders,” said Lucky to the Colonel.

“Good boy, good boy. Let's see, I made you a Corporal this afternoon, didn't I? I now make you a Sergeant. If all goes well, you shall have your commission next week. Now I'm off to see my little pet, Tommy, have his bath.”

He told Pongo he would be back in a couple of hours. “Slip out and tell me what you think of things—or send the Sergeant with a message.”

“Won't you come in and see the T.V., sir?” said Lucky.

“Not while the Badduns are awake,” said the Colonel. “Even they couldn't mistake me for a Dalmatian.”

As soon as he had gone, Lucky sent the other puppies to the kitchen, then took his father and mother in.

“You must stay at the back until your eyes get used to the dark,” he said.

And indeed it was dark! The only light came from the television screen and the kitchen fire, which were at opposite ends of the very large kitchen. And as the walls and ceiling were painted dark red, they reflected no light. It was extremely warm—much warmer than one fire could have made it. This was because there was central heating. Cruella de Vil had put it in when she planned to live in the house.

At last Pongo and Missis found they could see fairly well, and it was a strange sight they saw. Only a few feet away from the television, two men lay sprawled on old mattresses, their eyes fixed on the screen. Behind them were ranged row after row of puppies, small pups at the front, large pups at the back. Those who did not care for television were asleep round the kitchen fire. The hot, red room was curiously cosy, though Pongo felt it was a bit like being inside a giant's mouth.

Lucky whispered, “I thought we could settle Mother with the family and then I could show you round a bit. All the pups want to get a glimpse of you. Father, you are going to rescue them
all
?”

“I hope so,” said Pongo earnestly—wondering more and more how he was going to manage it.

“I told them you would, but they've been pretty nervous. I'll just send the word round that they can count on you.” He whispered to a pup at the end of a row, and the word travelled like wind over a cornfield. There was barely a sound that a human ear could have heard, except a couple of tail thumps, instantly repressed. All knew they must not give away the fact that Pongo was in their midst, and when he went silently along the rows there was scarcely a movement. But he could feel great waves of love and trust rolling towards him. And suddenly all the pups were real and living for him, not just a problem he had to face. He felt as if he were the father of them all. And he knew that he could never desert them.

He felt a special sympathy for the big pups in the two back rows. Some of them were fully half-grown—young dogs rather than puppies, lollopy creatures with clumsy feet. They made him remember his own not very far-away youth. He wondered how long their skins would be safe from Cruella—would she have the patience to wait much longer? Did the big pups know that danger drew close every day? Something in their eyes told him they did. And many of them had been in this horrible place for months, without hope until Lucky had spread the news that his father and mother were coming. Proud Lucky now, taking his father along the rows of hero-worshipping pups!

Blissfully happy, Missis sat with her children clustered about her. She had eyes only for them, but they were determined she should not miss the television. She had never seen it before (Mr. and Mrs. Dearly did not care for it) and found it difficult to follow. The pups did not follow it completely, as they had not yet learned enough human words; but they liked the little moving figures, and watched in the perpetual hope of seeing dogs on the screen.

“Can we have it when we get back home?” said the Cadpig.

“Indeed you shall, my darling,” said Missis. Somehow, somehow, the Dearlys must be made to buy a set.

Pongo had now silently “met” all the pups. He told Lucky he would like to have a good look at the Badduns. So Lucky took him a little way up the back staircase, where they could see without being noticed.

No one would have guessed that Saul and Jasper Baddun were brothers. Saul was heavy and dark, with a forehead so low that his bushy eyebrows often got tangled with his matted hair. Jasper was thin and fair, with a chin so sharp and pointed that it had worn holes in all his shirts—not that he had many. Both brothers looked very dirty.