As the two Wendle scouts had indicated, the journey up the rising slope of Replingham was long and tiring. The houses looked uninhabited and bored and there was hardly any adult movement. It was past nine-thirty in the morning and children were at their lessons, their parents at work. This was the first day-time trek of the expedition and the Borribles kept closely together, ready to run, hide or fight. Their eyes flickered nervously to right and left; their catapults were grasped in their hands and stones were loaded ready for firing.
They trudged on upwards towards the lower slopes of Rumbledom, the haversacks becoming heavier with every step they took. Occasionally a door opened in the dead front of a house and a woman shook a doormat or came out to whitestone a step. Sometimes a man scurried by, late for work or on some special errand, and he would turn to look at this strange band of earnest children with haversacks and catapults and woollen hats. But although the man was puzzled, he was too late and too busy to think about the bizarre nature of the sight and he would hurry on.
The steady plodding of their march was interrupted when a car passed them, close to the pavement, and screeched to a halt fifty yards further up the road. A policeman, burly in his blue uniform, leaped from the car and stood in the middle of the pavement with his arms and legs spread wide as if he owned the road, the front gardens, the houses and all the world around him. His face was red and glowing with pleasure.
"Blimey! A Woollie in a nondescript," said Bingo, who knew a lot of police terminolgoy because he lived in a nick. "There'll be another one behind us."
Glancing over their shoulders the Borribles saw another car parked a hundred yards behind them and a second brawny policeman was getting out of it, a grin on his face.
"Verdammt," swore Adolf, "we'd better get out of here."
To their left opened one of the turnings that led from Replingham; it was called Engadine and the Borribles were never to forget the name. Slowly, stretching their catapult rubbers, the Adventurers backed into it. As soon as they were round the corner they took to their heels and put on a burst of speed for twenty or thirty yards.
"Bingo," shouted Knocker, "you know the Woollies, you'd better take charge."
The two policemen appeared on the corner and stood together for a moment looking along the street at the Borribles. They waved the first car back to them, the other flashed on up the hill.
Bingo said, "That second nondescript will have gone round the block to seal off the other end of the road. I think those Woollies know we're Borribles and not just normal. We're going to have to fight this one, and even then there's a good chance of getting caught."
"Oh, I'm glad this has happened," grinned Stonks, flexing the elastic on his catapult." Walking gets boring on its own."
"Right," said Bingo, "here they come. Pretend to run away; spread across the road. When I give the word, turn and fire. I'll be in the middle. Those of you on my left take the copper on the left, those on the right the copper on the right. Aim for their knees."
The Borribles, pretending to look very frightened, backed away from the advancing policemen, slowly at first, then more quickly until they were running as hard as they could, which was very fast. The policemen put a lot into their running and were gaining when Bingo called out at the top of his voice, "A Borrible!" and the Adventurers turned, springing into the air and landing with their catapults stretched. They fired and both policemen fell as if their legs had been scythed from underneath them. Five stones arriving with the force of bullets all at once on the knee-caps can be as effective as amputation when it comes to running.
The police driver, at the near end of the street, had been watching the battle from the open window of his car, but when he saw his two colleagues rolling about on the ground and clasping their knees in pain he shoved his motor into gear and charged it down the middle of Engadine to come to their rescue.
Chalotte ran nimbly to the cover of a front garden. As the car came by, she let it have a stone, glancing along the bonnet. It was beautifully done; the windscreen became veined suddenly with a million lines of cold silver and the driver could see nothing. He was driving too fast and he swerved to be sure of avoiding his crippled friends who still lay in the road. The car, completely out of control, bounced across the pavement narrowly missing Stonks and sending Adolf spinning into the gutter. There was a sound of tearing metal and shattering glass as the car buried its nose in the brick coping that protected one of the house-fronts. The driver, who had earlier, and unwisely, unfastened his seat-belt, went through the frail windscreen like a locomotive and concussed himself on what was left of the wall.
"Yippee," yelled Bingo and, "Yippee," yelled the others, but Vulge called a warning. "He's on the walkie-talkie. There'll be hundreds up here if we don't watch out."
Sure enough, one of the lamed policemen had pulled out his pocket transmitter and was about to speak into it.
Perhaps the quickest loader and firer of the team was Chalotte. A stone had flown from her catapult almost before Vulge had finished shouting. It smashed into the hand radio and knocked it to the ground, broken and useless.
"We'll have to get out of here quick," said Bingo, looking down to the far end of the street. "The other car will be coming round this way soon."
"I don't mind staying here and taking them on," said Torreycanyon. "I enjoyed that. I hope the Rumbles fall over as easily."
"There'll be thousands and thousands of Rumbles," said Orococco, "and they'll keep coming at us like they was starving and we was their favourite cereal."
"We need somewhere to hide," said Sydney sensibly. "The roads will be crawling with John Law in ten minutes' time."
The group went silent. What Sydney had said was true, but where could they hide? All the houses in Engadine looked inhabited and the police would soon be knocking at every door asking if the Borribles had been seen.
It was then that their luck changed.
They were standing on the pavement near the wrecked car, watching the injured policemen crawl away, when at their feet they heard a slight noise, a grating, scratching noise. They half-turned and looked at the metal coal-hole cover that was set into the pavement just behind them; it moved. They glanced along the street. Every house they could see had a similar cover in front of it, circular and made from heavy iron. They were useful these covers, for the local coalmen could lift them out of the way and empty their heavy hundredweight sacks into them and so deliver their coal into the cellars without tramping all their dirt and dust through the houses—but this cover was revolving, on its own.
"Aye, aye," said Vulge, "what's this then, under-cover coppers?"
Suddenly the coal-hole cover lifted an inch, balanced on a human head. It hesitated, then up it came another inch, warily. After a second more it tilted to one side and a nose appeared. It was a large nose and crooked, with coal dust on it as well as a heavy dewdrop which looked as if it might leave the nose at any moment, but which didn't.
Vulge bent down quickly. "What's your game, sunshine, eh?"
A voice came out of the hole; it was cracked and petulant but the words it used were friendly enough. "Borribles, ain't yer? He, he, only Borribles could do that to the Woollies. I was watching from my front room. I'm a good friend to the Borribles, always have been. They help me and I help them. Was one myself once, ain't it, till I got caught. Nasty business growing old. You don't ever want to get caught, do you?"
Vulge looked over his shoulder at the others."I don't know what we've got here," he said, "but he might be able to get us out of this pickle."
"We'd better hurry," said Bingo." I can see the other car at the far end of the road, getting ready."
"You come down here, mateys," said the voice from the coal-hole and the dewdrop quivered ecstatically, threatening to lose its passionate hold on the nose. "You come down here, ain't it? I won't tell where you are, and in a couple of days you can carry on to where-ever you're going."
"We haven't got a lot of choice," said Torreycanyon. "None of us wants to get caught, at least not before we gets to Rumbeldom and does what we came to do."
"Okay down there," called Vulge. "Move over, we're coming in." He pushed the coal-hole cover till it slid over to rest on the pavement and he saw a narrow head, covered with a wisp of grey hair, duck back into the darkness.
"Well," asked Vulge, "who's first?"
"Man, if we stands round here nattering all day, we'll spend tonight in the nick with our ears clipped," said Orococco. "I ain't scared of the dark," and he struggled out of his haversack, threw it into the hole and then wriggled through the narrow opening.
The others followed quickly one by one until Knocker was left alone. He looked about him. The car-driver was still unconscious and the two injured policemen had crawled into Replingham out of sight. The street was empty and no one had seen the disappearance of the Borrible Adventurers. The whole battle had taken no longer than two or three minutes and the crash had not yet attracted attention. However, at the far end of Engadine, Knocker could see the other police car in position. It was still too far away to see what had happened, but shortly those policemen would be driving this way. He must get underground.
Knocker lowered himself downwards through the pavement until his feet touched a shifting pile of coal. The light from above got smaller and smaller as he pulled the iron lid into its grooves. There was a clang like the top half of a sepulchre slotting into place and Knocker and the other nine Adventurers were in complete darkness, safe below the long stretches of Engadine in South-West Eighteen.
Knocker slipped and slithered on the heap of coal. He stumbled, regained his balance for a moment, then fell forward. He was caught and the breath was crushed out of him by two wiry adult arms. He struggled but the arms were too strong. He kicked and squirmed but he couldn't free himself. Hot breath scalded his face as his assailant carried him along; the breath was foul and heavy and Knocker twisted away from it.
The breath became words. "Don't you struggle, my little beauty. We're on your side, ain't it? Oh, my little deario, you are in safe hands now, ain't you though?"
Knocker stopped kicking and waited. The voice he heard close to his ear was the voice that had invited them into the coal-hole; it was a sickly whining voice with a creaking edge to it. Knocker felt himself carried into another part of the cellar and not for one second did the strong and stringy hands that clutched him relax their hold. Knocker didn't like this at all. He slid his hand behind him to reach for his catapult but his hand encountered a large adult one in the act of pulling the catapult away, yet he was still held firmly by two other hands. Was there then another adult in the dark cellar, or did the beast that was carrying him have three hands? Knocker shivered; where on earth were the others?
Suddenly his captor shifted his grip and Knocker was grasped by the scruff of the neck and thrown roughly into space. He landed against another body and he heard Torreycanyon yell out, "Ouch, why don't they put a light on?" At that moment there was a clashing sound as someone slammed a steel door. After a moment's silence a light was switched on, revealing the most dismal sight.
Knocker on his hands and knees blinked his eyes, the bright light coming after the darkness almost blinding him. He shook his head. He could not believe what he saw. He and the other nine were imprisoned in a large cage such as one might see at a circus, only this cage had its bars placed very close together, so close that even a Borrible could not get through. In fact, the cage might well have been made especially for Borribles. Outside the cage, in a large cellar room, stood two men, one middle-aged, the other old. The old man, a boney creature, was rubbing his hands, grinning and sniffing with glee at his dewdrop. The younger man, Dewdrop's son, stood nodding his head stupidly and smiling an uneasy smile, as if he had sat in a mess and was not quite sure what to do about it. He was an idiot, squarely built; a monster of great strength.
Knocker got to his feet and looked at his companions. They were motionless, staring at the jeering old man. Their faces were white and hard with fear.
"Oh, no," cried Sydney, turning her head away from the dreadful scene, "a Borrible-Snatcher."
Stonks grabbed at the bars and tried to shake them with all his power. "You dirty old sod," he yelled at the top of his voice." Let us out of here. I'll kill you, I'll kill you."
The old man only rubbed his hands harder and sniffed more happily. He elbowed his son and nodded his head so vigorously that it seemed that the dewdrop must leave his nose for ever, but it stuck like gum, swinging backwards and forwards clanging against his nostrils.
"Look at the dearios," he chortled. "Ten lovely little Borribles. I've never had such a haul in my own life; we'll be rich, Erbie, so rich that the horse and cart won't be able to carry all our goodies. Oh, my God, ain't it beautiful! A little bit of persuasion and they'll be workin' day and night, ain't it? Best little deario burglars in the whole wide world, ain't it, Erbie?"
Erbie did not change his expression one bit, but he nodded slowly and said, "Yeah, dad, yeah," as ideas swam sightless through his muddy brain, like poisoned fish in the Wandle.
"Blimey, we're in serious trouble now," said Bingo. "A Borrible-Snatcher, Dewdrop and Son. We'll be lucky to get out of this alive, and if we ain't dead, we'll be caught, sure as eggs is poached."
"Keep your heads," said Knocker quietly, though he felt as scared as the others. "Anyone here got a catapult?"
Dewdrop cackled and slapped his son on the back so heartily that the moron staggered forward a step or two and lost his inane smile, but it soon returned, as gormless as before.
"Oh no, me deario, we got all the catapults; dangerous things as can hurt blokes, like those poor constables outside rolling on the ground with their knees cracked, ain't it? And my boy Erbie, he took all the stones too. We're going to look after them for you, don't you worry your little heads . . . and your haversacks, too. I'll look after you real well while you're here, ain't it? And you're going to be here a nice long while, my dearios, and we're going to be real friends, ain't it?"
Napoleon's face was white with anger. He raised his fist and shook it at Dewdrop and his son. "You can't keep us for ever, you stinkin' old goat."
"Not for ever, no," agreed Dewdrop, "but for as long as I, or you, live or until you get caught, eh, my deario," and he smirked and slapped his legs in glee and Erbie's smile increased very slightly.
His mirth was interrupted by a loud knocking on the door upstairs. Dewdrop glanced towards the ceiling. "Come on, Erbie," he said, "we'd better go up and tell those nice peelers that we haven't seen a thing. Wouldn't know a Borrible from an ordinary child, would we?" And he twisted his head on his neck and gloated over the caged Adventurers who hung their heads in despair.
"Come on, Erbie," and he got his son by the collar and began to pull him away. "We'll come back to these pretty children as soon as the coppers have gone and you can persuade 'em about a bit if they don't agree to our little plan, me deario, ain't that just it?" Erbie's smile intensified and his eyes probed the Borribles' bodies like damp fingers and he followed his father docilely out of the door which was locked behind him.
The Adventurers fell silent; no one made any suggestions because no one could think of anything. There was no way out. The cage was solid, not one bar in it would budge. The floor was made of iron and so was its roof. Even if they got out of the cage the two doors to the cellar were locked. It seemed hopeless. It was hopeless.
"Well, damn me," said Orococco at last, "we're supposed to be the best in the world, and we get caught first time out by a Snatcher. That's the end, man, the very end."
"What will he do to us?" asked Sydney, a little tearfully.
"What they always do," answered Napoleon, angry with himself and everyone else. "He'll keep us prisoner, beat us, or hand us over to that crazy son of his, and then he'll divide us into two teams, and he'll let one team out while the other stays here as hostages; and we'll have to steal for him, day after day, night after night. Steal not for grub or things that he needs, but for things he can sell, for money, so he can get richer and richer."
"We'll have to do shops, houses, post offices, banks, anything he can think of, just so he gets rich," added Bingo, "and if one of the thieving teams doesn't come back, why, he just beats the others near to death and makes them carry on stealing and when we're no good any more he'll hand us over to the Woollies."
"So you've had it either way," said Knocker, finishing off the explanation to the Neasden girl. "You stay here for ever thieving for him, or you carry on stealing till you get caught, or you run away and your mates get handed over. That's it, no way out."
After this summary of their desperate condition the group was silent again. They did not need any further reminder of the seriousness of their plight. Borrible-Snatchers were a rare phenomenon but were the most dangerous enemy that a Borrible could encounter. Snatchers had been very prevalent in the nineteenth century, snatching Borribles off the streets, even from their beds, and then forcing them to steal, not for survival but for riches. Snatchers sometimes kidnapped ordinary children but they preferred Borribles because they ran faster, were brighter and, above all, Borribles did not grow up and could be used for ever to wriggle through small windows. In modern times only a very few Snatchers were known of but their descriptions and their whereabouts were common knowledge to all Borribles and they shunned them always. But in this strange and unknown part of London, below Rumbledom, Dewdrop had made his lair. He had waited patiently and now he had captured more Borribles in one swoop than he could ever have hoped for in his wildest dreams. Soon he would be rich.
"This looks like the end of our Adventure," said Torreycanyon eventually. "We'll never get to Rumbledom now and no one will ever know what happened to us."
"Don't give up hope, verdammt, " said Adolf, but he didn't hoot and he didn't sound as if he meant it.
"There's one way out," said Knocker, "a way that will save the expedition, but it means a sacrifice."
"You get us out of here," said Napoleon bitterly, "and I'll sacrifice anything, anybody."
"It's like this," said Knocker, and he spoke slowly as if words were hard to come by. "Half of us will be left here always, and five will be out stealing, turn and turn about. One day we could draw lots and the five who are out, well, they just don't come back, but get away. That's all we can do."
The Adventurers looked at each other. It was a solution but a drastic one. Five to go and face the dangers of Rumbledom even more outnumbered than ever; five to be torn apart by Erbie and eventually handed over to the authorities, never to be Borribles again. The thought was horrid. Being caught was an extinguishing of identity, it was death. Worse than death, it was the loss of beauty, of freedom, a descent into ugliness. Look what had happened to Dewdrop, he had been a Borrible and then he had been caught and turned into something normal.
"That's not much of an option," said Stonks. "Two chances we got, a dog's chance and no chance."
"Let us wait," suggested Adolf, "let us wait a while before we decide on such a dire step." He tried to smile. "They will beat us and not give us much food, so Snatchers behave, it says in the old books, but he must let us out to steal. Let us promise always to come back, for the time being at least. Maybe we will find a way."
With heavy hearts they agreed that for the present they would do what Dewdrop ordered. They would bide their time as well they might and hope against hope that their luck would one day turn.
So began a harrowing time for the ten Borrible Adventurers, perhaps the worst of the whole expedition, for although many more dangers were to threaten them, never again would they feel so despondent, so small, so powerless.
Dewdrop and his son Erbie pretended to earn their living by going from street to street with a horse and cart collecting rags and bones and old iron. On the side of the cart was painted in deep red paint, "D. Bunyan and Son, Breakers and Merchants." The poor old horse who did all the work, pulling the cart up the steepest hills with the two men aboard, was called Sam.
Dewdrop and Erbie did collect rubbish and old iron when it was positively thrust on them but they never went out of their way to find it. They only rode round the streets looking for things to steal and houses to burgle. Everything they found or stole they sold for money which was put away into a secret hiding-place in the old house in Engadine. Dewdrop Bunyan had snatched Borribles in the past for burgling purposes but he'd only snaffled them in ones and twos. Now here he was with ten all at once and he decided to work them very hard every day and night so that he would become even richer even quicker. He would get them to burgle the big houses on the other side of Southfields and even some on the hills leading towards Rumbledom. He would become the richest man in the whole of London.
Dewdrop had satisfied the policemen investigating the Borrible battle that the assailants had got clean away.
"I saw them," he told the gullible Inspector. "They ran round the corner, down Merton way, miles off by now, I should think, nasty little bleeders." Of course the Inspector believed the tale; there was no reason not to, for Dewdrop Bunyan was a well-known local character.
When the policemen had given up their search and the rag-and-bone man felt quite secure he began to starve the Borribles and encouraged his imbecile son to prod them with a sharp stick through the bars of the cage. Erbie often pulled one of the prisoners round the house on a dog's lead, tormenting the Borrible until he or she could stand no more and would attack the stupid adult. But Erbie was so strong that the attacks of a tiny Borrible just made him snigger, though he beat his attacker unmercifully till the blood flowed. Then he would drag the semi-conscious captive back downstairs and throw the limp body into the cage and Erbie's crazy fixed smile would explode into a strange and blood-curdling laugh.
Dewdrop always joined in the laughter, rubbing his hands and rocking his head sideways on his shoulder so that his dewdrop wagged this way and that in the light of the bare bulb that lit the cellar. Every one of the Adventurers suffered these torments and at the end of a few days all had lost weight and were covered in bruises and sported cuts and black eyes.
"I'm going to kill him one day," Napoleon would walk up and down muttering under his breath. "I'm going to kill that great stupid loon, and then I'll kill his father, and if I don't I hope as how the Wendles hear about them and come up here and take these two and stake them out on the mud flats of the Wandle, and they'll sit round and sing songs while these two maniacs slowly slip below the surface and suffocate, bloody lovely." Napoleon was a real Wendle when roused.
About a week after their capture Dewdrop began to take the Borribles out on raids. Sometimes they went at night to burgle a big house, at other times they went during normal working hours to steal from supermarkets and department stores. The rag-and-bone man always kept at least five of his captives in the cellar under the demented eye of his son, Erbie. So eccentric and sadistic were this oaf's pleasures that it was more of a hardship for the Borribles to be kept in the cage than to be taken out stealing.
They stole well for their master and there were several reasons for this, the main one being that stealing comes naturally to all Borribles, although it is not usual for them to steal stuff they don't need. But they were also well aware that Dewdrop would let Erbie beat them to within an inch of their lives if they didn't do well in house or shop. He could even turn them over to the police for the pleasure of seeing them get their ears clipped.
The key to the cage was kept in Dewdrop's pocket and it was attached by a long chain to his braces and he never let it out of his sight or gave it to his son for one minute, for Dewdrop trusted no one. He was sly and he was cunning.
Weeks went by and still the Adventurers were no nearer escape. They stole and they burgled, returning to Dewdrop after each sortie to find him sitting on the seat of his cart with Sam munching in the nosebag, shaking his head up at the sky to get to the hay. Wearily they loaded their booty onto the back of the cart and clambered in after it, hiding under a piece of canvas so they would not be seen by prying eyes. Then Dewdrop would settle back in his seat, flap the reins and the old horse would lean into the traces and take them home. Home! Back to the dreary house in Engadine and the dreadful cold cellar with a cage in it and in the cage ten desperate and forlorn Borribles.
They became cheerless and they moved like people without minds. They had not one glimmer of hope and they hardly talked to each other, which for Borribles is a sign of mental disintegration. Their spirits got lower and lower until there came a day when they spoke no more. The ten companions lost count of the weeks spent in the cage, and back in Wandsworth the Wendles forgot about the expedition; even the Borribles of Battersea gave the Adventurers up for dead. The imprisonment seemed to go on for ever. Knocker's original suggestion, that they should draw lots and that one team of Borribles should simply disappear when Dewdrop sent them thieving, seemed more and more attractive. Each Adventurer had come to believe in his own heart and mind that this was the only way. All that stopped them taking up the subject again was the bleak thought of being left behind, alone with Dewdrop and Erbie. But then, just when they needed it, luck took a hand. Something happened.
Very late one evening, about eleven o 'clock, Knocker and Adolf, Chalotte, Bingo and Torreycanyon were taken out by Dewdrop and driven in the cart almost halfway up the hill beyond Southfields. The five Borribles sat silent beneath the tarpaulin on the back of the cart and listened to the tread of Sam's hooves on the tarmac. It was a cold evening, for winter was coming on, and they shivered all the more because they were hungry. Sam pulled slowly, the hill was long and steep. Occasionally they could hear Dewdrop call out, "Come along you, Sam, my old deario," and then there was the crack of the whip as the rag-and-bone man hit the old horse as hard as he could. Once the Borribles would have said, "Poor old Sam," because Borribles are mighty fond of horses, but now they had no sympathy to spare for Borrible or beast.
Sam tugged the cart up and up the steep hill, past many silent mansions standing in great gardens, until Dewdrop stopped in front of a very large house hidden behind high hedges and surrounded by acres of lawns and flowerbeds. The Borribles heard the brake being pulled on and then the tarpaulin was jerked back and the cold air came rushing in. Dewdrop's dewdrop looked like frozen jelly, green in the pale light of the stars.
"Well, my little dearios," creaked the evil voice, "we're going to have a fine time tonight. Here's a nice big house, what we have here, family gorn away for a second holiday, ain't it? Skiing and somesuch; I hopes they breaks their legs. But that's not why we're here, is it, to look into their health? We're here because they're there, ain't it? This is a family with a lot of money, no doubt they've taken it with them, but you can't take everything, oh no, too cumbersome and heavy. Can't have a skiing holiday with a grand piano up your jumper, eh? I'm going to wait here with Sam, my horse. You three . . ." He suddenly jabbed his boney finger into the tender flesh of Chalotte, Bingo and Torreycanyon one after the other. "You three will concentrate on the downstairs, should be some lovely silver in there, knives and forks, Georgian flower bowls and such. Oh, my dearios, I do like a beautiful thing, it was beauty that put me on this road, ain't it."
He turned and jabbed Adolf and Knocker. "And you two will go upstairs, look into the studies and bedrooms, nice antique stuff they'll have up there, pottery I should think, and if that don't work out you get into the children's playroom. Rich family, ain't it, spends a fortune on their little spoilt brats, I shouldn't wonder. Well, stealing's a great leveller, ain't it? We'll take some of those rich toys, my dearios, and I'll give 'em to someone else, make 'em happy. Now go on, and don't forget to come back, else you won't see your friends no more."
The Borribles leapt down from the cart and, taking a sack each, they ran nimbly across the grounds of the house to the back garden, out of sight of the road. It was quiet and dark and not a thing moved in the whole world. Knocker soon had a window open and they lost no time in getting inside. Leaving the other three to work the ground floor, Knocker and Adolf raced for the stairs and, in the light of their torches they rifled the bedrooms, snatching up anything they considered worthwhile.
When their sacks were nearly full, they went into a long wide room that was obviously the playroom; there were models and games everywhere. Without a word Adolf and Knocker began to collect some of the smaller and more expensive items.
After a while Adolf said, "I think we've got all we can carry." His voice sounded flat and depressed. "We'd better get back to Dewdrop now, or he'll be beating us again for being too slow."
"And if we don't get enough stuff he'll beat us for that, too," said Knocker, thinking that he couldn't go on living like this much longer. He went to the last of the toy-cupboards and said, "I'll just have a look in here."
Adolf was at the other side of the room when Knocker opened the cupboard. He couldn't see what Knocker saw but he heard a gasp, and then a chuckle and then a whistle of pleasure and happiness with a note of hope in it too. It had been so long since Adolf had heard anything so cheerful that he looked up immediately and scuttled over the room shouting, "What is it, what is it?" and then he saw and he swore his favourite oath. "Verdammt," he said and then again, "verdammt," and finally, "a million verdammts. "
In front of the two Borribles, on the second shelf, level with their eyes, were two of the finest steel catapults they had ever seen. The elastic was black and square and powerful and looked new and full of resilience.
Adolf and Knocker looked at each other, their eyes gleaming and shining with a bright spark such as had not glowed there for many weeks.
"How on earth can we get them back to the cage?" asked Adolf. "That dammt Dewdrop maniac searches us every night."
"He does," said Knocker, his mouth curling into a tight muscled smile, "he does, but he never looks under our feet."
"Verdammt," shouted Adolf, "you're right. I saw some sticky tape over there, just the thing, but we must be quick, or he'll think something fishy is going on."
Both Borribles, their hearts throbbing, hastily fixed a catapult to the sole of a boot. With a minimum of luck, they might be able to get the weapons back into the cage.
"Where can we get some stones," said Knocker as he finished fixing his catapult, "and how would we smuggle them in if we had them?"
Adolf struck his forehead with the flat of his hand. "I saw some large marbles in that cupboard over there. I tell you, the kids in this house have everything in the toy line."
It was true enough. In a large cake tin was a fine collection of coloured marbles, all of them as big as a good-sized stone and all of them heavy.
"We can't take more than five," said Knocker counting them out. "We'll carry them in our mouths."
"Long as Dewdrop doesn't make us speak when we get back to Engadine," said the German.
"Well, let's go," said Knocker, "and hope for the best."
They left the house and ran across the starlit lawns to where Dewdrop sat on the cart, his shoulders hunched and his head swivelling at the slightest sound.
"Where've you been?" he snapped. "The others got here hours ago. You're trying to get me caught, ain't it? Well, you remember, my dearios, if I gets caught I'll make damn sure you lot does. Get in the cart with those sacks and cover yourselves up." And when that was done Dewdrop cracked the whip and old Sam leant into the traces, turned the cart round and took them home again.
At the back of the house in Engadine was a large yard where the rag-and-bone man kept his scrap metal and where he stabled his horse. It was approached from the road that ran behind and parallel to Engadine and it was always this entrance that Dewdrop used after one of his forays.
Once Sam had been shut in the stable for the night Dewdrop pushed the Borribles to the house, staggering as they were under the sacks of booty.
"Come along, my beauties, my little stealing wonders," he muttered impatiently. "I want to see how well you have been working for my early retirement. Ho yes, this is my redundancy pay, ain't it, me dearios? Hurry along, you brats, 'fore I brains yer."
The five Borribles said nothing. Each was holding a precious marble in his mouth and dared not speak.
Inside the house they dumped the sacks in the hallway and then filed down the narrow steps to the cellar. Erbie stood there, drooling and smiling and nodding as they went into the room and lined up as they always had to line up.
"Hurry up, Erbie, my ol' darlin'," said Dewdrop as he came into the room. "There's such a lot of stuff tonight we'll be up till morning just looking at it. Get those little dearios locked up safe and sound and give 'em a little bit more bread, just so they knows how much I appreciates 'em."
Erbie came along the line and under the watchful eye of his father he ran his hot and heavy hands over the frail forms of the Borribles. He felt everywhere, grinning and sniggering, making sure they had stolen nothing from the sacks to keep for themselves. The Borribles stood with their mouths firmly closed, the marbles feeling as big as footballs. When Erbie had finished his searching and prodding and fondling, Dewdrop went over to the cage and stood there with a truncheon in his hand. He opened the gate and quickly pushed the Borribles inside. The door clanged and Erbie threw some stale bread through the bars and then both he and his father sped from the room to spend avaricious hours with their swag.
As soon as Dewdrop and Erbie were upstairs the marbles were brought from their hiding places and aroused great interest; but when the catapults appeared, why then there was rejoicing and hope.
"Oh, my," chortled Vulge, as he fingered a catapult lovingly, "I know who's going to get a clout round the ear with this little beauty. Knock his bloody brains out, if he had some—ain't it?" he added in impersonation of his jailer.
"Man, oh man," cried Orococco, jumping up and down and smashing his right fist into his left hand, "this is it. I'll pulverise them, I'll feed 'em to the sparrows."
"How'd it happen?" asked Napoleon. "How'd you do it?"
"Knocker found them," said Chalotte, her eyes alight. "At the house we were turning over, and Adolf found the marbles; there's only five, but that'll be enough." She blushed and added, "Knocker told us all about it in the cart on the way home." Then she smiled at Knocker, apologising in a way for telling his story but showing that she was proud of him.
"That's it," said Knocker throwing his chest out a bit. "It was easy. Look, tomorrow it's you lot who go out. When you get back, me and Adolf will have our catapults ready. We're out of practice but we should be all right, and we've got five good heavy marbles. This is how we'll do it. When you're lined up and Erbie 's waiting for his old man to come and supervise the searching, that's when we strike. We'll shoot to kill," said Knocker, looking sombrely at Adolf who just grinned and flashed his blue eyes. "After what we've put up with nothing else will do." The Adventurers murmured their assent. "We must get Dewdrop, he's got the keys. You others will unlock the cage. Then we'll all get into the backyard, take the horse and cart, and anything else we want. Agreed?" Everyone nodded. For the first time in weeks they were happy and hopeful.
The next day was a long day and there was a longer evening to follow it as Knocker and Adolf waited for the return of Dewdrop. Two catapults and five marbles were all that they had to help them to reach freedom. Knocker walked up and down the cage, flexing his muscles, watched by his four companions.
"They won't be long now," said Chalotte trying to soothe him. "It will be all right, you'll see."
"Adolf," said Knocker at one point, "you have had more adventures than me. We have five stones only; you take three, I will take two. You aim at Dewdrop, I will take Erbie. We fire, without words, as soon as Dewdrop steps into the room."
Adolf said, "You do me a great honour, Knocker my friend, for you are a good shot with the catapult."
"I saw you fire at the policemen," said Knocker. "You did it well."
"Listen," said Bingo, in a whisper, "here they come."
Sure enough there were footsteps upstairs and Erbie came creeping sideways into the cellar like a white crab. He slithered over to the cage and had a prod or two with a pointed stick. The Borribles got as far away from the idiot as they could.
"Better get an aspirin, sonny," murmured Bingo, "because you're going to have an awful headache. You think you're dopey now, but wait till you've had a little bash round the bonce."
There was a slamming of doors above and some heavy thumps as the Borribles came in and dropped their sacks of loot onto the floor. Then they were pushed downstairs by Dewdrop, who could be heard grumbling because it had been a poor night's stealing.
The door to the cellar stood open and the Borribles stumbled in.
"Go'ron, you lazy little fools," shouted Dewdrop. "Nothing, nothing you brought me. How can I make a living like this? Monsters, ungrateful monsters, I'll be working until I'm a failing old man at this rate, never able to retire."
He rushed through the doorway and stopped to look round the cellar. His face was angry red, purple in the tight skin near his mouth. "None of you shall eat tonight, none of you," he snarled.
Adolf and Knocker had their backs to the door, crouching in the cage, catapults firmly gripped, spare marbles in the ready hand of a colleague. They glanced at each other and on the nod they turned unhurriedly, stretching the catapults as far as they would go, a murderous extent, and let fly, each at his target.
Knocker's marble hit Erbie on the left temple, hard. Erbie swayed, his smile petrified, stiff as blancmange, but he did not fall; unconscious, he was kept upright by some trick of gravity.
Adolf did not have the same luck. As he released the elastic Dewdrop moved forward, intending to thrash the Borribles, for he was in a foul temper, and the marble only clipped him on the back of the head, serving but to increase his anger and his vigilance.
He looked towards the cage and reached for the truncheon that always stood just inside the cellar door; the moisture at the end of his nose glowed blue, green and mauve.
"Throwing stones, ain't it?" he roared, then he saw the catapults and was scared.
"Erbie, we'll have to lock the doors on these guttersnipes until they comes to their senses."
But it was too late. Napoleon kicked the truncheon out of Dewdrop's reach. Adolf reloaded and he didn't miss a second time. The projectile crashed and splintered into the middle of the rag-and-bone man's forehead and he staggered back against the wall, sorely hurt, and his dewdrop, that globe of multi-colored mucus, finally broke off its infatuation with the nose and fell to the floor.
"Oh, Erbie," Dewdrop cried piteously. "Oh, Erbie, help me, my boy, my son, my joy."
But poor Erbie was in no state to help anyone. Chalotte had thrust a second marble into Knocker's hand as soon as he had fired the first. He reloaded and shot at Dewdrop's crazed son, still rocking on his heels. The heavy glass bullet struck Erbie a fatal blow above the heart and he fell backwards, demolished, like an old factory chimney.
Dewdrop could not believe what he saw. He raised a bewildered hand to his bleeding forehead, the blood trickled down into his eyes and confused him. Napoleon picked up the truncheon and stood ready, but he waited for Adolf to fire his last shot.
The German, veteran of many a battle, and survivor from a multitude of tight corners, took his time.
"Oh, my son, my poor little Erbie, what have they done to you, you little darling what wouldn't hurt a fly? Oh, what a cruel world, my boy. Erbie, speak up and chat to your father."
Adolf's third marble flew straight as an arrow, and as fatally, to the temple of the Borrible-Snatcher. He lurched and pressed both hands to his head, then, lifeless himself, he fell forward with a mighty crash across the lifeless body of his son.
"So perish all Borrible-Snatchers," said Knocker grandly, and the others looked at each other with a wild delight. They were free.
It was the work of only a few minutes to find the keys and open the door of the cage. They discovered their haversacks in the next cellar room, where they had come into the house of Dewdrop Bunyan and Son so many weeks before; their catapults and bandoliers were there too.
Soon the Adventurers were re-equipped and in marching order. They found food upstairs in the well-stocked kitchen and they ate as they had not eaten for many a day. Then, smiling and almost crying with happiness, they went out into the yard.
Knocker went to the cart and threw his haversack into it; Napoleon, keeping close behind him, did the same.
The others hesitated for a moment and lowered their haversacks to the ground.
"Where," asked Sydney, "are you going with that cart?"
"What do you mean?" said Knocker, his eyes widening, taken aback. "Rumbledom, of course."
"We think," said Chalotte, "that escaping from a Borrible-Snatcher is an Adventure in itself, let alone killing one. We've earned our names already."
"But that is not what we came for." Knocker looked at the ring of faces that surrounded him, searching for some support. The support came immediately, from an unexpected source.
"No," said Napoleon Boot stepping forward, "that is not what we came for. I'm with Knocker."
"I think I have earned my English name," said Adolf. "I understand Chalotte, she is right, we have done enough, but I go with Knocker. That is because I am slightly mad. I have a thing about Adventures."
"We all want to go really," said Bingo, sitting on his haversack, "but . . . I mean . . . we've been so knocked about by Erbie, and we haven't eaten properly for ages."
"We aren't fit for the job, now, are we?" said Torreycanyon. "Perhaps we should rest up for a bit, eh?"
"What are you on about?" snapped Napoleon. "We can't go back now, what would we look like?"
Seven Borribles looked selfconscious and shifted their feet.
"However rotten we feel," insisted Knocker, "we've got to go on. We're free now, that's a tonic in itself. Anyway, you lot can do what you like. The three of us are going. Get the horse, Nap."
Bingo stood up and the others moved a step.
Chalotte said, "If Knocker and Nap can agree for once then something very dodgy is happening, so we'll have to go along, I suppose, to see what they're up to," and she gave Knocker and Napoleon a long and piercing look.
Bingo shrugged his shoulders, threw his haversack into the cart and quoted a proverb at no one in particular, "If you're my friend, follow me round the bend."
The others did as he did and exchanged grim smiles with Knocker. The horse was brought from the stable and Sydney went over and spoke to him affectionately.
"So we're all going to Rumbledom, Sam, after all, and you will come with us. Rumbles don't like horses, but we do, you will be our mascot and mate and we will protect you." And all of them stroked him and gave him lumps of sugar they had taken from the house and they put him between the shafts and made ready. They took a long raincoat from the house too, a good one that Dewdrop had always worn on rainy nights, and Bingo who was the lightest, sat on Stonks's shoulders, for he was the strongest, and Stonks sat on the driving seat of the cart and they put the raincoat round Bingo's shoulders and it looked for all the world as if an adult was driving. The rest of the Adventurers hid under the tarpaulin at the back and with a crack of the whip and with a "Giddeyup, old Sam, me deario, ain't it?" Bingo drove them out of the yard and they began the last lap of their journey to the borders of Rumbledom, South-West Nineteen.
"There's one thing," said Knocker, as they all sat warm and content under the canvas, "we were in Engadine so long that the Rumbles have probably given us up for dead—and if they don't like horses, so much the better. Sam can take us right up to their front door and kick it down."