The Borribles - Larrabeiti Michael (книги онлайн без регистрации .txt) 📗

The Rumble whizzed over the Borrible's head at escape velocity and was swung away in a wide arc. Still he held on and if he could have strengthened his grip he might have lived for ever, but when the sapling reached its apogee it suddenly and treacherously reversed its direction. So there came a moment when the Rumble was travelling away from the door at a speed that was much faster than safe, and the top of the sapling was travelling at the same speed but back towards the door. The rope became taut and even the remarkable strength of Stonks the Rumble could not hold onto it and it was torn from his grasp. He disappeared into the black night, a fast-moving silhouette against the starry sky.

"He'll be burned to a frazzle on re-entry," said Stonks with a sniff and a spit. They waited a long while in silence.

"He's been ages up there," said Torreycanyon with irritation.

Just then there came a scream and a crashing of branches from about three hundred yards away. Then there was a dull crump and the ground where the Borribles stood shook and shivered.

"Ah, that sounds like a satisfactory abort," said Torreycanyon, rising from his crouching position and sheathing his knife at last. He stepped over to Stonks and took his hand and shook it. "I'd like to be the first," he said, "to congratulate you on being the first of us to win a name. Well done, Stonks, no other's name but yours now."

The Great Door to the Bunker now stood open and undefended. The two Borribles tip-toed towards it and peered in. An electric light showed an entrance hallway with a comfortable armchair for the guard on duty. There were some blankets and nearby a little table with food and books to sustain the watcher during the long night. On the other side of the hallway a lighted tunnel led off to the heart of the Burrow. Both the hallway and the tunnel were lined with bricks and there was carpet on the floor and pictures on the walls. It looked very warm and comfortable, homely.

"Nobody about," said Stonks and they entered the hallway and pulled the massive door shut behind them.

"What a smashing place," said Torreycanyon. "Don't stint themselves, do they?"

"They have no need to, mate, no need," said Stonks and he shot the bolts and turned the key in the lock. "Look," he went on, "I've done my bloke so I'll stay here and watch the exit, that way we've got a line of retreat." He picked up the Rumble-stick which had belonged to the guard who had left his post so precipitately and he hefted it in his hand. "Any Rumble who tries to get the door from me will have four inches of nail in him. You can tell the others when you see them. I'll also pull some bricks from the wall and make a couple of barricades across the tunnel. If you come back this way you'll have to give the whistle and I'll let you over."

"It's a good idea," said Torreycanyon. "I'll tell anybody I see." Then he said, "I'd better get going. Goodbye, Stonks—don't get caught, eh?" And there was a catch to his voice as he spoke.

Stonks caught hold of his friend and embraced him. "Take care, my old china. Win your name well. Don't you get caught now, I'd miss you."

And Torreycanyon turned abruptly, a tear in his eye, and he ran down the lighted, twisting, dangerous tunnel as fast as he could go, eager for his name.

Orococco and Bingo slid down the bumpy hillside, getting wet where they sat and slithered on the soaking grass. The slope ended in a small cliff and they fell together, all of a heap, into a little open space at the bottom of the hill.

"Quiet, Bingo," whispered Orococco, "we've landed right on their doorstep."

"Saves walking," said the Battersea-ite.

They crept on all fours till they came up against the Small Door. As its name indicated it was less important then the Great Door on the other side of the hill; even a Borrible would have to crawl through this one. There was a judas in the door so that the guard could see outside without having to open the barricade. Still kneeling the two Borribles looked at each other, then back at the peep-hole.

"I suppose this calls for guile," said Bingo.

"That's all we got, man," said Orococco. He knocked at the door. There was no answer.

"He's sleeping," said Bingo and he knocked, this time with the butt of his catapult, very loudly indeed.

There was a sudden and muffled snort from behind the door. Orococco shook his head. "Sleepin' on duty, they deserves to get duffed up!" He put his face close up to the judas. It was very dark there under the bank where the door was concealed.

The flap in the door flew open and a sleepy voice said, "Who goes there, Wumble or foe?"

"A weal Wumble," said Orococco, flashing his teeth.

"No such thing as a black Wumble," said the guard, his snout coming up close to the opening and quivering distrustfully. "What's your name?"

"My name's Owococco," said Orococco, winking at Bingo who was close to the door but out of sight of the person within.

There was a shocked silence from the Rumble, then he said, "Wait a minute, that can't be your name, it's my name."

"Tewwibly sowwy," said Orococco, "you must be mistaken, old boy. Owococco is posalutely my name, always has been, don't yer know."

"I have no wish to be offensive," said the voice behind the door, "but I ought to know my own name. I'm fwightfully sowwy but I am Owococco," and the snout came nearer the little opening and sniffed and sniffed.

"You don't even smell like a Wumble," said the snout.

"Well," said the Totter from Tooting, "all I can say is open the door and have a look, and you will absotively wecognise me as one of your vewy own."

"I can't do that," said the guardian, "it's against the wules, and according to my list evewyone is in tonight."

"All wight then," said the black Borrible, "stick your nose wight out and take a weally good sniff and wecognise me and let me in. I'm exhausted, and I have important news for the High Command."

"I'm one of the High Command," said the Rumble, suddenly intrigued, "you may tell me all."

"I'll tell you nothing until you let me in," insisted Orococco. The snout came further out and attempted to sniff round the Borrible's face but he fell back half a step and the snout was obliged to push itself a little further and again a little further, still snuffling and vibrating. It was then that Bingo rose and seized the snout in both hands and held on with all his might. Orococco slipped the strong cord from his waist and wound it several times round the snout and, tying it very tightly, he fastened the free end to the root of a strong growing bush. The Rumble could hardly breathe but Bingo did not let go, nor did the rope slacken, for all the animal's struggles behind the door. Orococco got close to the snout. "Shaddup," he whispered, "if you don't stop that wriggling I'll beat your nose till it looks like a limp wind-sock."

The struggling abated, then stopped altogether.

"Now, listen," went on the black Totter, "you can reach the bolts, and you can reach the lock. Open up. We have an ultimatum for your mates, and they're going to get it one way or the other, whether you have a snout or not."

Orococco Rumble hesitated, there was a little more kicking of padded feet and a flailing of arms, but the snout did not move an inch from its imprisonment. Then the two Borribles heard the bolts slide and the key grate in the lock and Orococco threw his body at the door with such force that the cord holding the snout broke with a loud twang and nearly pulled the Rumble's head through the small aperture. This fierce assault slammed the body of the guardian back against the wall of the passage and there was a sickening thud.

Bingo vaulted into the corridor, rolled over and came to his feet holding his catapult at the ready, but he did not fire for this was Orococco's game. Orococco seized the Rumble-stick that leant inside the doorway and used the point to fling aside the door. The Totter drew back his arm, ready to thrust the deadly sticker into the furry breast of his namesake, but before his muscles could act the Rumble fell forward onto the floor, the weight of his body banging the Small Door shut.

Bingo sprang to his feet and turned the body over. "Strewth," he said, "you must've broke his neck when you opened the door."

"Never stand behind a door when there's someone coming through the other side," said Orococco. "That's an old Tooting proverb which ain't in the book but ought to be."

"Hey," said Bingo, coming over to stand before his comrade, "you've got your name already. That's great, congratulations," and he slapped the Totter on the shoulder.

"Thanks, man," said Orococco, "now we'd better see about getting yours." And he turned and locked and bolted the door before slipping the key into his pocket. "Remember I got the key, Bingo, just in case I don't make it. Now let's go see if the others got the kettle on yet." And holding the sticker across his body he ran as fast as he could down the tunnel and Bingo sped along close behind him.

Vulge lay full length in the narrow ventilation shaft and inched his body along with his elbows; the top of the tunnel scraped his back. Behind him he could hear the others breathing hard as they followed. After a few yards, which seemed like miles, he came to a greasy grating set in the floor. He reached behind him with an effort and pulled his torch from a pocket of his combat jacket. He masked the beam with his hand and saw that he was at the end of the tunnel. Something bumped against his feet.

"Chalotte," he heard her say.

He shone his torch on the grating and saw that it was held down by four screws. He reached for his knife and slowly began to unscrew them.

"What's up?" asked Chalotte.

Vulge twisted his head as far as he was able. "Grating to the kitchens, four screws," he whispered and then went back to his work. It took a long while but at last the grating came free and he slid it below his body and stuck his head down to look into the kitchens.

It was an enormous modern installation, equipped with long stainless-steel ranges and endless working surfaces, for it had to cater for the hundreds of Rumbles who lived in the Bunker and on its smooth running would depend their health and well-being. The management and ordering of such a place would demand complex skills and the Rumble commissariat could only be controlled by members of the High Command.