From the first it was quite clear the dogs knew just where they wanted to go. Very firmly they led the way right across the park, across the road, and to the open space which is called Primrose Hill. This did not surprise the Dearlys as it had always been a favourite walk. What did surprise them was the way Pongo and Missis behaved when they got to the top of the hill. They stood side by side and they barked.

They barked to the north, they barked to the south, they barked to the east and west. And each time they changed their positions they began the barking with three very strange short, sharp barks.

Anyone would think they were signalling,€ said Mr. Dearly.

But he did not really mean it. And they were signalling.

Many people must have noticed how dogs like to bark in the early evening. Indeed, twilight has sometimes been called Dogs’Barking Time.€ Busy town dogs bark less than country dogs, but all dogs know all about the Twilight Barking. It is their way of keeping in touch with distant friends, passing on important news, enjoying a good gossip. But none of the dogs who answered Pongo and Missis expected to enjoy a gossip, for the three short, sharp barks meant Help! Help! Help!

No dog sends that signal unless the need is desperate. And no dog who hears it ever fails to respond.

Within a few minutes the news of the stolen puppies was travelling across England, and every dog who heard at once turned detective. Dogs living in London’s Underworld (hard-bitten characters, also hard-biting) set out to explore sinister alleys where dog thieves lurk. Dogs in Pet Shops hastened to make quite sure all puppies offered for sale were not Dalmatians in disguise. And dogs who could do nothing else swiftly handed on the news, spreading it through London and on through the suburbs, and on, on to the open country: Help! Help! Help! Fifteen Dalmatian puppies stolen. Send news to Pongo and Missis Pongo, of Regent’s Park, London. End of message.

Pongo and Missis hoped all this would be happening. But all they really knew was that they had made contact with the dogs near enough to answer them, and that those dogs would be standing by, at twilight the next evening, to relay any news that had come along.

One Great Dane, over towards Hampstead, was particularly encouraging.

I have a chain of friends all over England,€ he said in his great, booming bark. And I will be on duty day and night. Courage, courage, O Dogs of Regent’s Park!€