The Borribles, стр. 27

It was dark.

It was the darkest part of the night but Sam knew the way to Rumbledom and he pulled the cartload of Borribles joyfully, knowing in his heart that he would be beaten and cursed no more. He took them away from the hateful memories of Engadine, and Bingo, secure on the shoulders of Stonks, sang a rousing Borrible song to himself, a song that told of the dangers past and the dangers to come.

Bingo's companions joined in the song, their hearts full of a divine excitement, a feeling which mingled strangely with the serene joy they felt at being Borribles, at being alive and together on an adventure that would be sung about again and again in the years to come.

Sam took them through many deserted roads and gardens and strange silent streets, heaving the old cart across the steep hills which guarded the borders of Rumbledom. The horse strode out purposefully, head down and legs thrusting hard, the colour of his coat alternating between deep purple and gold as he entered and left the quiet pools of light which fell gracefully from the tall white swan-necks of the concrete street-lamps. Sam pulled them from Brookwood to Elsenham, into Augustus where the slopes began in earnest. Up Albert Drive and Albyn, through Thursley Gardens and along Seymour and Bathgate, up Somerset Road at last and the slopes flattened and the sky lightened and turned blotchy like yesterday's porridge and a cold dark wind came across a boundless open space and numbed the intent of the Adventurers as they peered from beneath the warm canvas. The crisp air lined their lungs with ice, chilling their blood at the heart. Sam hesitated. One last road to cross—Parkside. He shook his head and neighed valiantly and went out into the green and black stillness that was Rumbledom.

Bingo guided the horse and cart to a large clump of trees not far advanced into the wilderness. The wintry light of morning glinted without friendliness on a sheet of water nearby. "Bluegate Gravel Pit, Disused," said the map.

"We'll camp by the water's edge," said Knocker to Bingo, "then at least we can't be attacked from the rear, and we can post lookouts along the line of trees."

"There's no one about," said Bingo, "it doesn't look like we've been spotted. If we make it to those trees, we'll be safe."

Sam pulled them towards the copse. The cart lurched and jolted and the Borribles, who were standing now, had to hang on with all their strength to avoid being thrown out under the wheels. They looked keenly in every direction to see if there was any sign of their enemies, but not a bird flew overhead and not a dog hunted through the clumps of grass, even on the horizon where the grey sky was brightening.

"Come on, Sam, my old deario," cried Bingo in a tired voice, "nearly there, ain't it? Then we'll rest and eat all day, my little darling."

Sam dragged the cart deep into the copse and halted. His coat was steaming and his legs were trembling after the long uphill flight from Engadine. Bingo pulled on the brake and the Adventurers leapt to the ground. They spread out in all directions to search through the undergrowth, making certain that there were no Rumbles in hiding or, even more dangerous, that there was no entrance here to a Burrow, one of those large underground warrens where Rumbles live in security and comfort.

They found no trace of the enemy and so Napoleon and Vulge prised Bingo up and away from the shoulders of Stonks and stood him on the ground. Bingo stretched and rubbed his legs. "What an empty and gloomy old dump Rumbledom is," he said. "What's on the other side?"

"Not much," said Knocker. "There's no more London, just countryside with separate houses, funny."

"And they lives down below," whispered Vulge, pointing downwards, "right under our very feet, eh?"

"That's right," said Orococco. "They lives in Burrows and we lives in Boroughs. That's the difference!"

"Hey, you lot," called out Napoleon, "come over here and help me with poor old Stonks. He's gone all stiff-solid, carrying Bingo all this way; he's got cramp in all his muscles. Poor sod can't move."

The Borribles gathered round and inspected their rigid companion.

"Don't worry," he said, hardly able to move his mouth, "I'm all right, honest. Keep your eyes open 'stead of fussing about me; they might creep up on you."

"Chalotte and me will go on watch," said Sydney, and the two girls went to the edge of the copse to stare across the rolling fields.

The others lifted Stonks gently from the cart. He came off the seat as stiff as an armchair. They laid him on the grass on his side but his body remained in the sitting position.

"Just give me a rub down." He tried to laugh. "I'll soon be as good as new."

They took turns in rubbing Stonks hard on his legs, arms and back, and when his muscles were loosened a little they covered him with sleeping bags to keep him warm. Then they settled down for a council of war.

No noise came across the open spaces of Rumbledom but traffic whined along Parkside now as people began to make their way to work. Only one thing was moving near them in the dreary landscape, the cool black steam that rose from the surface of the gravel pit.

It was easy to decide what they needed at that moment—food and rest. They opened their haversacks and made a feast of the food they had brought from Dewdrop's house. There were tins of beans, loaves of sliced bread, packets of biscuits, tins of steak-and-kidney pie, rice pudding, slabs of chocolate, both milk and plain, with nuts and raisins. There was cheese and liver-sausage and bottles of Guinness and cans of ale. Dewdrop and Erbie had lived well and it was a complete banquet, coming as it did after the weeks of privation in the cellars of Engadine.

Then, with two of their number constantly on watch, they slept all morning. In the afternoon they just dozed or sat chatting lazily to one another, firing their catapults at the water as they talked. Some fell asleep again, to wake up later and join in the conversation. They talked about the Rumbles, their adventures so far, and of the training that Knocker and Dodger had given them and would they ever, all of them, get home safe and sound.

"They like staying in the warm," said Knocker of the Rumbles. "It is well into winter now, so they'll spend most of their time in the Burrows. We've been so long in coming that it's probable that they've forgotten about us and won't have many lookout patrols on the go. On the other hand they are no fools and they're sly. They may have seen us already, they may be on the other side of the horizon, gathering their forces."

"Has anyone, apart from a Rumble that is, ever seen the inside of a Burrow?" asked Chalotte.

"No," said Knocker, "but according to Spiff, who knows more about them than any other Borrible, you want to forget the idea of it being a cosy little Burrow, it's really a defensive Bunker, very luxurious though, carpeted, pictures on the wall, separate rooms, beds, blankets and bathrooms, centrally-heated, of course, work-shops. They want for nothing and they eat well, though you couldn't eat what they eat, funny stuff, make you sick, it would. The Bunkers are complicated, designed like a spider's web, strong, lots of cement. Rumbles, they know every inch of it. Some of you will get lost, be set on in a cul-de-sac. But remember the place in the middle to which all the tunnels lead, it's called the Central. When you get in the Bunker you'll be on your own, each one of you has got to do for your namesake and then hop it. You know what they look like, you did that in training."

"We get in, get our target, and then get out," said Sydney.

"That's it," answered Knocker. "We'll rendezvous back here. If anyone is captured, or wounded, or killed, the others do not wait. The survivors take the horse and cart and they go, night or day. There may be thousands of Rumbles after us and they can fight, too. They could easily over-run us and massacre us by sheer weight of numbers."

"I wish I knew what they were up to," said Vulge, standing up and firing his catapult at a plastic icecream cup floating on the gravel pit and sinking it with his first stone. "It's too damn quiet!"

Just then Orococco pushed his head through the trees. "There's a sweet little Rumble comin' this way, sniffin' with his snout and poking about in the grass with a nail on the end of a long stick! I could exterminate the little nuisance from about fifty yards."

"Oh, boy," said Vulge, slipping his bandolier over his shoulder, "if he's alone let's nobble him and ask him a few questions, see what his mates are up to."

Napoleon who had been asleep rolled over and said lazily, "Yeah, someone go and bring the little feller in."

"Don't harm him," said Knocker to Orococco. "We want him alive. Remember, they talk to children. If he doesn't suss you as a Borrible, tell him you've got something you want him to see, here in the trees."