Dodie Smith - The 101 Dalmatians

There was not room for ninety-seven pups on the ground floor of the Folly, nor would there have been in the crowded upstairs rooms, so Pongo marched everyone out onto the heath. As the last pup marched out, the Sheepdog arrived.

At first he thought Pongo had recklessly begun the escape too soon, but when he heard the true facts he praised Pongo highly and was particularly pleased that all pups had been fed before escaping.

“That was Sergeant Lucky’s idea,” said Pongo proudly.

“Good work, Sergeant- Major ,” said the Colonel.

“But where are we to go?” asked Missis anxiously. “Look, the puppies are shivering.”

They were indeed, for though it was not freezing it seemed terribly cold to them all after the warm kitchen.

The Sheepdog looked worried—not that anyone could see this, as his expressions were always hidden by hair. What was he to do, at a moment’s notice, with ninety-seven Dalmatian puppies and two full-grown Dalmatians? At last he said, “Our big barn for the night, anyway. Pups can keep warm in the straw. It’s only half a mile across the heath.”

Half a mile! How little to Pongo and Missis! How much, how terribly much to the tiny Cadpig! After even a few hundred yards, Pongo was in despair about the long journey to London which lay ahead.

The big pups ran along happily. The medium-sized pups did quite well. Even most of the smaller pups looked as if they were capable of a reasonably long walk. But the smallest pups of all, Pongo’s own family—how were they to walk over seventy miles? Lucky, Patch, Roly Poly, and the other boys struggled along bravely, but the girls stumbled and panted and had to have many rests. As for the Cadpig, she would never have reached the farm at all if the Sheepdog had not given her a lift. He lay down, and she climbed onto his back and held on to his long hair with her teeth. Even so, she nearly slipped off twice.

“She could never stay on our smooth backs,” said Missis to Pongo. “If only I could wheel her in a doll’s perambulator!”

“You couldn’t walk to London on your hind legs,” said Pongo, “even if we had a perambulator.”

At last they reached the big barn at the back of the farm where the Colonel lived. The tired pups snuggled into the hay and straw and instantly fell asleep. Pongo, Missis, and the Colonel stood at the door, trying to make plans.

The Colonel said, “I can’t keep you here long. You would be found—besides, I couldn’t feed so many. We must get you to London by easy stages, just a few miles a day.”

“But where shall we sleep? Where shall we find food?” said Pongo anxiously.

“It will need tremendous organization,” said the Colonel. “I hope to arrange the first stage at once, by Midnight Barking. I must bark some distance from the farm, or I shall wake my pets.”

Pongo offered to bark with him, but the Sheepdog would not hear of it. “You two must rest. It’s now nearly ten o’clock. If my plan goes well I shall wake you at four, when there will still be over three hours of darkness. That will be long enough to get you to the place I have in mind.”

“But my smallest daughter is so weak,” said Missis. “How can she make any journey?”

The Colonel smiled—not that anyone could see that. “I have a plan for the little lass,” he said. “Now, sleep, sleep, both of you.”

So Pongo and Missis went into the dark barn and sniffed out their own family. Only Lucky stirred; he said he was trying to sleep with one eye open, so as to be on guard.

“You close both eyes,” said Missis firmly.

And Lucky did, quite happy now his parents were there to take charge.

“What would happen if we were found here?” asked Missis. “Surely the people at the farm are kind? They wouldn’t hurt us.”

Pongo had been thinking about this. He guessed that as there had been so much in the papers about himself and Missis and their family, they might all get safely returned to the Dearlys. But the other puppies, what would happen to them? Even the dear, kind Dearlys would not take in eighty-two puppies they did not know. The poor things would be sent to a police station—anything might happen to them. But if once the Dearlys saw them, then all the puppies would suddenly belong to the Dearlys—just as they had suddenly seemed to belong to him, in the dark kitchen. Somehow, somehow he must get them all to London.

Missis felt just the same, but she did not see how the Cadpig and some of her sisters would make the journey.

“Well, sleep now,” said Pongo, giving her a loving lick. “Are you glad you didn’t after all, have to bite a human?”

“The Badduns are no more human than Cruella is,” said Missis. “Still, I’m glad I didn’t have to soil my teeth.”

They would not have fallen asleep so easily if they had known what the Sheepdog had just seen. Across the heath, lanterns were moving. The Badduns were out, searching for the missing puppies.

Pongo was dreaming he was back in Regent’s Park, running after a stick thrown by Mr. Dearly, when a light tap on his shoulder woke him. It was Lieutenant Willow.

“The Colonel’s compliments, and would you and your lady please come to him?”

Missis was sleeping peacefully. Pongo woke her gently, wondering what dream she would be leaving and if the dark barn would look as strange to her as it had to him a moment earlier. She sprang up at once, dazed and anxious.

“All well,” said the cat soothingly. “Food and shelter are arranged for two days ahead. Reception for the Midnight Barking was excellent. Please follow me now.”

She made no mention of the Baddun brothers with their lanterns, searching the heath.

It was still quite dark as they left the barn and crossed the farmyard. The cat led them to the back door of a large white farmhouse.

“Help me to push the door,” she said. “The Colonel has unbolted it.”

The door opened easily. They went through a kitchen and along a passage, at the end of which was an open door and a glimmer of light. The cat led them through the doorway, and they found themselves in a nursery lit by a night-light. At the far end, the Sheepdog stood beside a little painted bed in which was a very wide-awake two-year-old boy.

“This is my pet, Tommy,” said the Colonel. “He very much wants to meet you.”

Pongo and Missis went to the little boy, and he patted them both. Then he made some odd chuckling noises. They did not sound like Human nor did they sound like Dog. But the Sheepdog seemed to understand them, and Tommy seemed to understand what the Sheepdog answered. Pongo decided this was quite a new language, half Dog, half Human.

“Tommy wishes to lend you something,” said the Colonel. “He knows how much you need it and is most anxious to help you. See, here it is.”

Pongo and Missis then saw a little wooden cart, painted blue. It was made like a real farm cart, with four high wheels and a wooden railing all round it to keep the hay in—it was full of hay now. At the front was a long piece of wood with a wide crossbar at the end of it, so that Tommy could drag the cart about.

“You can choose two pups exactly the right size,” said the Colonel, “and they can use the long piece of wood as a shaft—in between them—and take the crossbar in their mouths. Then they can pull the cart forward. And, if needed, pups at the back can push with their noses. Your smallest daughter can travel comfortably in the hay, and any puppy who is tired can sit beside her and take a rest.”