So they said good-bye to Tommy, and then the Sheepdog, going backwards, pulled the cart along the passage and out through the back door. He had quite a job.

It’s lucky my little pet sleeps on the ground floor,€ he said. It’s because our stairs are so steep. I could never have got this cart down them.€

They went back to the barn and woke the pups, and all the bigger ones came outside and tried the cart on for size. (The moon was lower now but still gave plenty of light). One family of eight fitted perfectly, and a dozen other pups could manage quite well, so Pongo arranged that all these should travel close to the cart and take it in turns to pull it, two at a time. The Cadpig was enchanted and settled down in the hay so that pups could practice pulling.

While this was happening, Pongo was told the plans made by Midnight Barking. Only five miles was to be travelled before dawn which would not be for over three hours to a village where a friend of the Colonel’s lived at a bakery.

And next door is a butcher’s, so food will be all right,€ said the Colonel. Then you’ll do another five miles as soon as it’s dark tomorrow but my friend will tell you all about that. I hope to get you to London in ten or twelve days, billeting you where you can be safely hidden and fed. The last stages of the march will be the most difficult, but there are warehouses, if we can get in touch with their watchdogs. There’s a Great Dane somewhere near Hampstead working on that already. Fine fellow. I hear he’s a Brigadier-General.€

Ten days or even longer! Missis felt her heart sink.

Pongo,€ she said suddenly, When is Christmas Day?

The day after tomorrow,€ said the Colonel. No, bless me, it’s tomorrow because it’s Christmas Eve already, even if it isn’t light yet. Don’t worry, Mrs. Pongo. You shall have some Christmas dinner.€

But it was not food Missis was thinking about, but the Dearlys, all alone for Christmas. Sometimes she forgot them for an hour or two, but never for very long. She thought now of that last evening, when she had rested her head on Mrs. Dearly’s knee, trying to make her understand and of the warm white drawing room, where there was to have been a Christmas tree, with presents for the three dogs and the fifteen pups. Missis had heard the Dearlys planning it.

Pongo guessed his wife’s thoughts which was easy to do because his own were much the same. Never mind, Missis,€ he said. We’ll be home by next Christmas.€

The pups who were to take turns at pulling the little blue cart were now quite good at it.