‘Now, we must have a plan and we must all be clear about our part in it before we get to the farm. Sam; tell us where the boy is being kept and what you think is the best way of getting in:’
The animals huddled together with their backs to the wind while Sam explained the geography of the house to them, but he was unable to think of a way they could get into it, nor was he certain which room Nab was in. He himself was only able to go through the doors when they were opened for him by his masters; otherwise they were a solid barrier of wood. There was silence while the animals put their minds to this difficult problem; only the rustling of the few remaining leaves, brown and withered but still stubbornly hanging on, disturbed the peace of the night. Bruin suggested that they charge at the doors and break them down but Sam explained, with considerable deference, that the Urkku, although they slept at night, would be awoken by the noise that this would make, and the plan was discarded. Sam then recalled how, when he had been a puppy) he had scratched at things a lot and he remembered how when he scratched at doors his claws had made impressions on them and he had been severely scolded. Perhaps the badgers, whose claws were so much bigger and stronger than his, would be able to scratch a way through.
Warrigal looked thoughtful for a moment. ‘Are there any other ideas?’ he said, leaning forward on the branch and looking quizzically at each one of them in turn. ‘Well,’ he said, when no further plans were forthcoming, ‘that is the scheme we shall adopt. But it will still create a lot of noise. We shall have to work very slowly. When we get to the farm I will fly up to Nab’s window and let him know what’s happening. Perryfoot; while the two badgers are at the door you stay at the bottom of the yard and keep a lookout. But stay out of sight; if anything goes wrong you must run back to the wood and tell Wythen. Now, is there anything anyone would like to know before we move on?’
There was silence. Now was the moment of truth. None of these animals except Sam had ever been as close to an Urkku dwelling as they were even now, let alone going still nearer and then, eventually, actually inside the building. Until now they had had no time to think of the danger; they had simply been driven by the need to rescue Nab and the entire escapade had been a vague concept in their minds. Now, suddenly, it was real. Warrigal could sense the growing fear.
‘All right then. Come on,’ he said and, moving his wings very slowly, he took off and began to fly just above the ground across the field and towards the gate. The others walked slowly in single file behind him. Warrigal waited for them at the gate and then, when they had all arrived, beckoned to Sam to take the lead and they all made their way along the rough gravel track with the cowsheds on either side of them. They walked on the middle of the track where the weeds had grown through so as not to crunch on the gravel and as they walked they heard the sounds of the cattle inside, the occasional rattling of a chain or shuffle of hooves. Suddenly a loud cough came from one of the sheds and they stopped dead in their tracks but Sam motioned that it was simply a cow and the party continued on its way. Brock’s fear was almost overcome by his fascination for all the things around him, the buildings and the farm vehicles; some bales of hay heaped in a comer and a ladder leaning against a wall up to a hay loft. Then at the end of the cowshed on their right they turned the comer into the yard and faced the front of the house. They stood in a little group looking across at the huge building; it looked like a fortress, high and impenetrable and the six windows, dark now that most of the lights in the house were out, stared out at them like great soulless eyes, daring them to enter. Once again fear gripped them and they stood rooted to the spot, huddled against the wall of the shed.
It was Sam who, understanding nothing of their fear of the house, urged them forward and took them across the yard to the great wooden front door, leaving Perryfoot behind where he could see the whole of the yard and also the track down which they had come.
‘Right,’ he said. ‘Now this is the door, Brock, you start scratching here,’ and he indicated the bottom left-hand comer. ‘I hope the window of Nab’s room is up there, Warrigal,’ and as the owl silently flew up, Brock sank his sharp claws into the door and, drawing them down, left four great scratches in the wood.
Warrigal could hear the work going on below him as he hovered outside the window looking for a place to perch. He spotted the large sill and delicately dropped down on to it. He could see nothing through the window except little slivers of light that peeked out around the curtains. The icy wind blew particularly fiercely around this comer of the house; he had forgotten about it in the shelter of the yard. He turned his head round and saw Perryfoot crouching in the shelter of a doorway. Turning back to face the window he put his head on one side to listen for any sounds of danger from inside the house but all he could hear was the creaking of the floorboards in the room as Nab paced restlessly to and fro. He leant forward and gently tapped the glass with his beak twice; there was no response. He tapped again and this time the pacing stopped and he heard footsteps come towards him. He tapped again and this time there was a rustling inside as the owl saw the curtains start to move. He walked quickly along to the end of the sill from where he could see in but couldn’t be seen himself in case he had come to the wrong place; it had only been Sam’s guess that Nab would be in the spare room. Suddenly there was a flood of light as Nab succeeded in drawing the curtains apart. Warrigal saw the boy’s face with relief and walked back until he was once again in the middle of the sill. The boy was frantically looking out into the night, searching everywhere with his eyes except where the owl was perched. His face was pale and streaked where tears had traced their way down his cheeks and his eyes looked red and sore from crying. Warrigal tapped again and Nab looked suddenly down directly at him. As he saw the owl and realized who it was, his face lit up and relief shone out from it so intensely that Warrigal was afraid he might shout with joy, but all the woodland instincts that had been ingrained in him signalled extreme caution and silence and instead the boy simply put his smiling face to the glass and watched as Warrigal indicated to him that the others were down below and that they were now planning his escape. The boy was transformed; a minute ago he had been a pathetic trapped creature lost in the depths of self-pity, degraded and debased by capture. Now, with the prospect of freedom before him, he regained his dignity and self-respect and became alert and vibrant with energy.
When Warrigal was certain that Nab was fully aware of the situation he indicated to him to pull the curtains shut so as to prevent the light pouring out; if any of the Urkku saw it they would definitely come to investigate. Then he flew back down to the door, where Bruin and Brock were making good progress and Sam was waiting for him anxiously. He told them in hushed tones of what had happened and that everything had gone smoothly; Nab was now waiting for them. Brock was particularly thrilled at the thought that Warrigal had actually seen the boy and that he would soon be with them again and, while Sam went down to tell Perryfoot and Bruin carried on at the door, he plied the owl with questions as to his appearance and how he seemed in himself. Warrigal was pleased for his friend; he knew how hard the effect would be on the badger if things turned out badly.
