They went on and soon saw that this was not a real village but just a short row of cottages, some of them empty and almost in ruins. Except for smoke rising from a few chimneys, there was no sign of life until they came to the very last cottage. As they reached it a little boy looked out of a window.

He saw them and quickly opened the cottage door. In his hand was a thick slab of bread and butter. He appeared to be holding it out to them.

Gently, Pongo,€ said Missis, or we shall frighten him.€

They went through the open gate and up the cobbled path, wagging their tails and looking with love at the little boy and the bread and butter. The child smiled at them fearlessly and waved the bread and butter. And then, when they were only three or four yards away, he stooped, picked up a stone, and slung it with all his force. He gave a squeal of laughter when he saw the stone strike Pongo, then went in and slammed the door.

At that moment the dogs heard a man’s voice inside the cottage. They turned and ran as fast as they could, along the road and then into a field.

Are you hurt, Pongo?€ cried Missis as they ran. Then she saw that he was limping. They stopped behind a haystack. Pongo’s leg was bleeding the stone must have had a very sharp edge. But what hurt him most was the bruise on the bone. He was trembling with pain and rage.

Missis was terrified, but she did not let him see this. She licked his wound and said there was nothing a good rest would not cure.

Rest? Where?€ said Pongo.

Missis saw that the haystack was very loosely made. She scrabbled at it fiercely, saying, Look, Pongo, you can creep in and get warm. Then sleep for a while. I will find us some food I will, I will! The first dog I meet will help me.€

By now she had made a large hole in the haystack. Pongo looked at it longingly. But no! He could not let her go alone. He struggled to his feet, wincing with pain, and said, I must come with you to find food. And I will bite that child.

No, Pongo, no!€ cried Missis, horrified. Remember he is only a very young human. All very young creatures are ignorantly cruel, often our dear puppies hurt me badly, not knowing they were doing so. To bite a human is the greatest crime a dog can commit. You shall not let that cruel, thoughtless child put such a sin on your conscience. Your pain and anger will pass, but the guilt would remain with you for always. €

Pongo knew she was right, and already the desire to bite the child was passing. But I won’t let you go alone,€ he said.