It was a bone, the Sheepdog saw with pleasure; but not a bone with meat on it, he noted with disgust. It was an old, dry bone, and on it were some peculiar scratches. The scratches formed letters. And the letters were S.O. S.
Someone was asking for help! Someone behind the tall wall and the high, chained gates! The Sheepdog barked a low, cautious bark. He was answered by a high, shrill bark. Then he heard a yelp, as if some dog had been cuffed. The Sheepdog barked again, saying, “I'll do all I can.” Then he picked up the bone in his teeth and raced back to the farm.
Once home, he showed the bone to the tabby cat and asked her help. Then, together, they hurried to the lonely house. At the back they found a tree whose branches reached over the wall. The cat climbed the tree, went along its branches, and then leaped to a tree the other side of the wall.
“Take care of yourself,” barked the Sheepdog. “Remember those Baddun brothers are villains.”
The cat clawed her way down, backwards, to the ground, then hurried through the overgrown shrubbery. Soon she came to an old brick wall which enclosed a stableyard. From behind the wall came whimperings and snufflings. She leaped to the top of the wall and looked down.
The next second, one of the Baddun brothers saw her and threw a stone at her. She dodged it, jumped from the wall, and ran for her life. In two minutes she was safely back with the Sheepdog.
“They're there!” she said triumphantly. “The place is
seething
with Dalmatian puppies!”
The Sheepdog was a formidable Twilight Barker. Tonight, with the most important news in Dogdom to send out, he surpassed himself. And so the message travelled, by way of farm dogs and house dogs, great dogs and small dogs. Sometimes a bark would carry half a mile or more; sometimes it would need to carry only a few yards. One sharp-eared Cairn saved the chain from breaking by picking up a bark from nearly a mile away and then almost bursting herself getting it on to the dog next door. Across miles and miles of country, across miles and miles of suburbs, across a network of London streets, the chain held firm; from the depths of Suffolk to the top of Primrose Hillâwhere Pongo and Missis, still as statues, stood listening, listening.
“Puppies found in lonely house. S.O.S. on old bone . . .” Missis could not take it all in. But Pongo missed nothing. There were instructions for reaching the village, suggestions for the journey, offers of hospitality on the way. And the dog chain was standing by to take a message back to the pupsâthe Sheepdog would bark it over the wall in the dead of night.
At first Missis was too excited to think of anything to say, but Pongo barked clearly, “Tell them we're coming! Tell them we start tonight! Tell them to be brave!”
Then Missis found her voice. “Give them all our love! Tell Patch to take care of the Cadpig! Tell Lucky not to be too daring! Tell Roly Poly to keep out of mischief!” She would have sent a message to every one of the fifteen pups if Pongo had not whispered, “That's enough, dear. We mustn't make it too complicated. Let the Great Dane start work now.”
So they signed off and there was a sudden silence. And then, though not quite so loudly, they heard the Great Dane again. But this time he was not barking towards them. What they heard was their message, starting on its way to Suffolk.
To the Rescue!
As they walked the Dearlys home, Pongo said to Missis, “Did you hear who owns the house where the puppies are imprisoned?”
Missis said, “No, Pongo, I'm afraid I missed many things the Great Dane barked.”
“I will tell you everything later,” said Pongo.
He was faced with a problem. He now knew that his terrible suspicions were justified and it was time Missis learned the truth. But if he told her before dinner, she might lose her appetite, and if he told her afterwards, she might lose her dinner. So still he said nothing. And he made her eat every crumb of dinner and then join him in asking for moreâwhich the Nannies gave with delight.
“It may be a long time before we get another meal,” he explained.
While the Nannies fed the Dearlys, the dogs made their plans. Perdita at once offered to come to Suffolk with them.
“But you are still much too delicate for the journey, dear Perdita,” said Missis. “Besides, what could you do?”
“I could
wash
the puppies,” said Perdita.
Both Pongo and Missis then said they knew Perdita was a beautiful puppy-washer but her job must be to comfort the Dearlys. And she felt that herself.
“If only we could make them understand why we are leaving them!” said Missis, sadly.
“If we could do that, we shouldn't have to leave them,” said Pongo. “They would drive us to Suffolk in the car. And send the police.”
“Oh, let us have one more try to speak their language,” said Missis.
The Dearlys were sitting by the fire in the big white drawing room. They welcomed the two dogs and offered them the sofa. But Pongo and Missis had no wish for a comfortable nap. They stood together, looking imploringly at the Dearlys.
Then Pongo barked gently, “Wuff, wuff,
wuffolk!”
Mr. Dearly patted him but understood nothing.
Then Missis tried. “Wuff, wuff,
wuffolk!”
“Are you telling us the puppies are in Suffolk?” said Mrs. Dearly.
The dogs wagged their tails wildly. Buy Mrs. Dearly was only joking. It was hopeless, and the dogs knew it always would be.
Dogs can never speak the language of humans, and humans can never speak the language of dogs. But many dogs can understand almost every word humans say, while humans seldom learn to recognize more than half a dozen barks, if that. And barks are only a small part of the dog language. A wagging tail can mean so many things. Humans know that it means a dog is pleased, but not what a dog is saying about his pleasedness. (Really, it is very clever of humans to understand a wagging tail at all, as they have no tails of their own.) Then there are the snufflings and sniffings, the pricking of earsâall meaning different things. And many, many words are expressed by a dog's eyes.
It was with their eyes that Pongo and Missis spoke most that evening, for they knew the Dearlys could at least understand one eye-word. That word was “love,” and the dogs said it again and again, leaning their heads against the Dearlys' knees. And the Dearlys said, “Dear Pongo,” “Dear Missis,” again and again.
“They're asking us to find their puppies, I know they are,” said Mrs. Dearly, never guessing that, as well as declaring their love, the dogs were saying,
“We
are going to find the puppies. Please forgive us for leaving you. Please have faith in our safe return.”
At eleven oâclock the dogs gave Mrs. Dearly's hand one last kiss and took Mr. Dearly out for his last run. Perdita joined them for this. She had spent the evening with the Nannies, feeling that Pongo and Missis might wish to be alone with their pets. Then all three dogs went to their baskets in the warm kitchen and the house settled for the night.
But it did not settle for long. Shortly before midnight Pongo and Missis got up, ate some biscuits they had hidden, and took long drinks of water. Then they said a loving good-bye to Perdita, who was in tears, nosed open a window at the back of the house, and got out into the mews. (They knew they could not open the gate at the top of the area steps.) Carefully they nosed the window shut, so that Perdita would not get a chill, and then went round to the area railings to give her one last smile. (Dogs smile in various ways: Pongo and Missis smiled by wrinkling their noses.) She was there at the kitchen window, bravely trying to wag her tail.
Beyond Perdita, Missis could see the three cushioned baskets in the rosy glow from the fire. She thought of the many peaceful nights she had spent in hers, in the happy days when a dog could fall asleep looking forward to breakfast. Poor Missis! Of course she loved Pongo, the puppies, the Dearlys, and the Nanniesâand dear, kind Perditaâbest of everything in the world. But she also loved her creature comforts. Never had her home seemed so dear to her as now when she was leaving it for a dangerous, unknown world.
And it was such a cold world. The night was fine, the stars were brilliant, but the wind was keen. If only she could have brought her beautiful blue coat, now hanging on a peg in the warm kitchen!
Pongo saw her shiver. It is a hard thing for a loving husband to see his wife shiver.
“Are you cold, Missis?” he asked anxiously.
“No, Pongo,” said Missis, still shivering.
“I
am,” said Pongo untruthfully. “But I shall soon warm up.”
He tail-wagged good-bye to Perdita, then started off briskly along the Outer Circle, looking very spirited. Missis kept pace with him; but after its last wag to Perdita, her tail went down.
After a few minutes, Pongo said, “Are you warmer now, Missis?”
“Yes, Pongo,” said Missis, still shivering. And still her tail was down.
Pongo knew that if he could not cheer her up she would never be able to face the hardships that lay ahead. And he thought he could do with some cheering up himself. So he began a little speech, intended to give them both courage.
“I sometimes think,” he said, “that you and I have become a bit pampered. Well, pampering does good dogs no harm, provided they don't come to depend on it. If they do, they become old before their time. We should never lose our liking for adventure, never forget our wild ancestry.” (They were then passing the Zoo.) “Oh, I know we are worried about the puppies, but the more we worry, the less we shall be able to help them. We must be brave, we must even be gay, we must know we
cannot
fail. Are you warmer now, Missis?”
“Yes, Pongo,” said Missis. But still she shivered and still her tail drooped.
They were now nearly at the bridge which leads from the Outer Circle towards Camden Town.
“Stop for a moment,” said Pongo. And he turned and looked back along the curve of the Circle. No car was in sight, no light was in any window. The lamp-posts were like sentinels guarding the sleeping park.
“Think of the day when we come back with fifteen puppies running behind us,” said Pongo.
“Oh, Pongo, are you
sure?”
“Absolutely sure,” said Pongo. “Are you a little warmer now, dear Missis?”
“Yes, Pongo,” said Missis, “And this time it is true.”
“Then onwards to Suffolk!” said Pongo.
And as they ran towards the bridge, Missis carried her tail as high as his.
“Not
too
high, Missis dear,” said Pongo. “Let our hearts be gay, but not our tails.” For when a Dalmatian's tail is curled high over the back it is called a “gay” tail and is a bad fault.
Missis was still laughing at this little joke when her heart gave a wild flutter. Coming towards them was a policeman.
Instantly Pongo led the way into a back street, and they were soon safely out of the policeman's sight. But seeing him had reminded Missis of something.
“Oh, Pongo!” she wailed. “We are
illegal.
We are out without our collars.”
“And a good thing, too,” said Pongo, “for a dog can be grabbed by the collar. But I do wish we could have brought your coat.” He had noticed that she was shivering againâthough this time it was because she had been scared by the policeman.
“I donât,” said Missis bravely. “For if I wore a coat, how should I know how cold the puppies were? They have no coats. Oh, Pongo, how can they make the journey from Suffolk in such wintry weather? Suppose it snows?”
“They may not have to make the journey
yet,”
said Pongo.
Missis stared in astonishment. “But we must get them back quickly or the dog thieves will sell them.”
“Nothing will happen to them
yet,”
said Pongo. And now he knew it was time to tell his wife the truth. “Let's rest a moment,” he said, and led Missis into the shelter of a doorway. Then he went on gently.
“Dear Missis, our puppies were not stolen by ordinary dog thieves. Try not to be too frightened. Remember we are going to rescue them. Our puppies were stolen by Cruella de Vil's ordersâso that she can have their skins made into a fur coat. Oh, Missis, be brave!”
Missis had collapsed. She lay on the doorstep, panting, her eyes full of horror.
“But it will be
all right,
dear Missis! They will be safe for months yet. They are much too small to beâto be used for a fur coat yet.”
Missis shuddered. Then she struggled to her feet.
“I will go back!” she cried. “I will go back and tear Cruella De Vil to pieces.”
“That would do no good at all,” said Pongo firmly. “We must rescue the puppies first and think of our revenge later. On to Suffolk!”
“On to Suffolk, then!” said Missis, staggering along on shaky legs. “But we shall come back, Cruella de Vil!”
Soon Missis began to feel better, for Pongo made her see that puppies whose skins were wanted for a fur coat would be well fed and well taken care of, and kept together. Ordinary dog thieves might have sold them already, and to different people. She asked him many questions, and he told of his early suspicionsâhow he had suddenly recalled the evening they had first seen Cruella and sat under the piano in the red drawing room.
“She said we would make enchanting fur coats, Missis.”
“For spring wear, over a black suit,” said Missis, remembering. “And she did take a lot of interest in the puppies.”
“And she kept Nanny Cook talking while they were stolen,” said Pongo. “But I wasn't
quite
sure until this evening, at the Twilight Barking. You didn't hear as much as I did, Missis. Our puppies are at Hell Hall, the ancestral home of the de Vils.”