Dodie Smith - The 101 Dalmatians

“How many puppies are there?” asked Pongo.

“Can’t tell, exactly, because they never keep still. But I’d say—counting yours—getting on for a hundred.”

“A hundred?”

They had reached the pond. “Have another drink,” suggested the Colonel.

Pongo gulped down some more water, then stared hopelessly at the Sheepdog.

“Colonel, what am I going to do?”

“Will your lady wife want just to rescue her own puppies?”

“She may at first,” said Pongo. “But not when she realizes it would mean leaving all the others to certain death.”

“Anyway, your pups aren’t old enough for the journey,” said the Colonel. “I suppose you know that?”

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 and 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 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 crouch 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 sleep—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.”