Biggles In The Jungle Part 6

Algy went forward again, and after a minute or two grasped the situation. He found that the building was, in fact, a cage divided into two compartments. In one of them was a black panther. As he came up it was tearing with its claws at the far side of its cage, but as soon as it saw him it turned its attention to him with a rush that made him take a quick pace backwards. However, when he saw that the bars held firmly he moved nearer, and dimly, for it was not yet properly light, made out Biggles and Ginger in the background. Without waiting for explanations he c.o.c.ked the rifle and took aim at the beast.

Biggles uttered a sharp cry. 'Don't shoot!'

'Why not?' demanded Algy, lowering the weapon.

'The shot will bring a crowd here,' Biggles told him tersely. 'Try to find a way of getting us out. It doesn't matter about the animal.'

Algy soon saw the wisdom of this, but a quick reconnaissance revealed that escape was not going to be easy. There was a door to the compartment in which the others were confined, but it was heavily built, and locked, and without the key he was helpless. He pa.s.sed this information on to Biggles, and then explored farther. The door of the animal's cage was, he discovered, operated from above, as was also the part.i.tion, the raising of which would throw the two compartments into one.

I'd better shoot the brute,' he told Biggles desperately. 'I could then lift the dividing bars, and by opening the door of the cage, let you out.'

All right-go ahead,' agreed Biggles. 'As soon as we're out we'll make a dash for the stairway.'

Algy raised his rifle, but before he could fire a cry of alarm from Dusky brought him round facing the village. There was no need to look farther. A dozen men, mostly natives, but with some white men among them, were racing towards the spot. One fired a revolver as he ran.

Seeing that it was now too late to put his plan into operation, Algy's first thought was to take cover and try to hold the crowd at bay. Dusky was already on his way to the rear of the buildings, and he followed him, but even as he ran he got an idea that speeded him on.

'Help me up!' he shouted to Dusky, and using the old man's back as a vaulting horse, he scrambled on the roof of the building. Shouts from the oncoming crowd told him that he had been seen, but he gave no heed. Dropping the rifle, he seized the lever which operated the door of the animal's cage, and dragged it back. The door swung open. The panther was not slow to take advantage of the opportunity to escape, and shot out into the open, a streak of black, snarling fury. For a moment it crouched, as if uncertain which way to go; then it saw the crowd, which had stopped at its appearance, and the matter was no longer in doubt. It hated the men on sight, and went towards them like an arrow. The crowd fled, scattering.

Algy would dearly have loved to watch the rest, but there was no time. He raised the part.i.tion, and a moment later had the satisfaction of seeing Biggles and Ginger bolt out through the door by which the panther had vacated its prison.

'The stairway!' shouted Biggles. 'Make for the stairway.'

Algy s.n.a.t.c.hed up his rifle, dropped to the ground, and in another second all four were in flight towards the rocks. A volley of shots made them look round, and they were just in time to see the panther fall. It had overtaken one of the white men and pulled him down, but the King of the Forest, with a courage worthy of a better cause, emptied his revolver into the animal's sleek flank.

'Keep going!' shouted Biggles. 'If we can reach the stairway we can hold them.'

Shouts told them that the Tiger was rallying his men to resume the pursuit, and they waited for no more. A few shots were fired as they scrambled up the rocks, but the shooting was wild and the bullets did no harm.

'Good,' panted Biggles as they reached the top. 'Take cover, everybody. Algy, lend me that rifle.'

Crouching behind a rock, he took quick aim and fired at the Tiger. But the run had unsteadied him, and the shot missed.

However, it made their pursuers dive for cover. Not that they remained still. They spread out fanwise, and Biggles knew that no good purpose could be served by remaining where they were.

'We'll go on up and get back to the machine,' he decided.

In single file they began the long ascent, Biggles, still carrying the rifle, bringing up the rear. He knew, of course, that they would be followed, and was sorry in a way that it had been necessary to reveal the continuation of the staircase, of which, he felt sure, the Tiger was in ignorance.

For half an hour nothing happened, and they toiled on, naturally finding the ascent more arduous than the descent. Then, round a shoulder of rock far below them, appeared the Tiger and his men, also in single file, for the steps were not wide enough to permit the pa.s.sage of two people abreast. Biggles knew that they, too, must have been seen. He did not shoot, for the range was considerable, and the mounting sun was already causing the air to quiver, making accurate shooting impossible. However, he kept an eye on their pursuers, and presently saw five men, natives, forge rapidly ahead.

'The Tiger has sent some Indians forward,' he told the others. 'They may be used to this sort of thing, and no doubt the Tiger hopes they'll overtake us. There's nothing to worry about at the moment; if they get too close we'll give them something that should discourage them. Keep going; we're still some way from the top.'

For an hour they stuck doggedly to their task, which as time went on, strained their resources to the utmost. The heat became intense, and they were all breathing heavily, although they were still far from the top.

I think it will pay us to take a breather,' announced Biggles presently. 'We shall never stand this pace right to the top.' He halted at a bend. 'This will suit us,' he continued, looking back.

Three hundred yards beyond them was another bend, beyond which it was not possible to see.

'The first man who pokes his nose round that corner is going to meet a piece of lead coming the other way,' announced Biggles, adjusting his sights, and holding the rifle at the ready.

Squatting on the steps, they recovered their breath. All were thirsty, but there was no water to be had, so no one commented on it. Ten minutes pa.s.sed, and Biggles was just standing up preparatory to giving the order to march, when, at the lower bend, an Indian appeared. From the abrupt manner in which he stopped it was apparent that he was aware of his danger; but he did not withdraw; he said something to those behind him, the sound being clearly audible in the still air.

Biggles's rifle cracked, and the Indian vacated his position with alacrity, although whether he had been hit or not the comrades could not tell.

'That'll give them something to think about, anyway,' observed Biggles, giving the order to march.

Twice during the next hour he halted and surveyed the winding track behind them. There were places where it was possible to see for a considerable distance, but there was no sign of the Indians.

I don't understand it,' he muttered, frowning. 'I can hardly think that they've gone back.

However, as long as they don't interfere with us I don't care what they do.'

They went on, and shortly before midday reached the top of the steps.

'The machine is still all right, anyway,' remarked Ginger, noting that it was standing as they had left it.

'We'll go across and have something to eat,' declared Biggles.

Hardly had the words left his lips when a rifle cracked, surprisingly close, and a bullet whistled over his shoulder to smack against the rock behind him. So astonished was he that he looked around in amazement, trying to make out the direction from which the shot had come, but there was nothing to indicate it. As, realising his danger, he dashed for cover, there came another shot.

'Where are they coming from?' exclaimed Algy, in tones of surprise and alarm.

I don't know, but I suspect those Indians know more about this place than we do,'

answered Biggles, peering cautiously at the surrounding rocks. 'Somehow they must have got level with us by another route. If we aren't careful they may outflank us. I think we'd better make a dash for the machine and find a healthier parking place.'

'You mean-take off?' queried Ginger.

'Yes.'

'Where are you going to make for?'

'The river-there's nowhere else we can go. Besides, we don't want to get too far away.

We'll find a quiet anchorage and think things over. When I give the word, run flat out for the machine. We'll open out a bit, so as not to offer a compact target. Ready? Go!'

Jumping up, they all ran towards the machine, but the moment they left cover several shots were fired, which revealed that more than one rifle was being used. However, none of the shots came very close, which struck Biggles as odd until he saw a piece of fabric ripped off the hull of the aircraft.

'They're shooting at the machine!' he shouted. 'The rest of you get in and start up, while I hold them off.'

They were now within a score of paces of the Wanderer. Choosing a shallow depression, Biggles threw himself into it and opened a brisk fire on the spot from where the shots were coming. Puffs of smoke gave the enemies' position away, and he saw that in some way the Indians had reached the high rocks beyond the village, where they had taken cover. He emptied the magazine of his rifle and then dashed to the machine, the engines of which had now been started. As he jumped into the cabin there was a cry of dismay from Ginger.

'They've got the tank!' he shouted. 'The petrol is pouring out.'

Glancing at the main tank, Biggles saw that this was indeed the case. A lucky shot had struck the tank a glancing blow low down, making a jagged hole, through which petrol was pouring at a rate that must empty the tank in a few minutes. The danger was instantly apparent, for without petrol they would be stranded; the aircraft would be useless, and their only means of getting away would be on foot, down the stairway.

For a moment Biggles tried to plug the hole with his handkerchief; but the spirit still trickled through, and he knew that it could only delay the inevitable end. To make matters worse, shots were still striking the machine, and it could only be a matter of seconds before one of them was. .h.i.t. He dashed to the c.o.c.kpit. They had, he saw, just a chance of getting away. If he could only get the machine off the ground, and over the rim of the plateau before the tank emptied itself; they might be able to glide to the river even though the engines were dead.

Algy saw Biggles coming, and guessing what he had in mind, vacated the seat. Biggles flung himself into it, and with a sweep of his hand knocked the throttle wide open. The engines roared. The machine began to move forward. He held the joystick and waited, knowing that it was going to be a matter of seconds. If the engines would continue running for another half minute all might yet be well. If they failed-well, it was better not to think of that.

The machine, now with its tail up, raced on towards the rim of the plateau. Biggles eased the stick back gently, and it lifted. One engine missed fire, roared again, and then, just as the aircraft soared out over the blue forest far below, both died away altogether. The propellers stopped. An uncanny silence fell. But the machine was in the air, gliding towards the nearest loop of the distant river.

9.

NEW PERILS.

HAD Biggles been asked if he thought the machine, now without motive power, would reach the river, and had he answered truthfully, he would have said 'no'; but he knew that it would be a near thing. He had about five thousand feet of height, and some five miles to go, which would normally be within the gliding range of a modern aeroplane. But the Wanderer was heavily loaded, and that made a lot of difference. Again, it was not gliding towards an aerodrome where he could be sure of a landing-ground free from obstructions. That part of the river towards which he was gliding-and this, of course, was the nearest part-was new to him, and even if he reached it, there was always a possibility of it turning out to be a death-trap, by reason of dead trees floating on the surface, or sandbanks, or even the giant water-lilies that flourished in many places.

However, he had no alternative but to go on, hoping for the best.

The others were well aware of the gravity of the situation, but since they could do nothing about it either, they sat still, watching the grey ribbon of water grow ever more distinct.

Some minutes pa.s.sed, the aircraft gliding sluggishly at little more than stalling speed.

The altimeter now registered two thousand feet, and the river was still a good two miles away.

'You ought to just about do it,' Algy told Biggles calmly.

'Just about,' answered Biggles, smiling faintly.

The machine glided on, the air moaning softly over its wings. n.o.body moved. n.o.body spoke.

Ginger watched the river with a sort of helpless fascination. It seemed to float towards them, a narrow lane bordered by a spreading ocean of tree-tops. It was clear that the final issue would be a matter of inches.

Algy afterwards swore that he heard the topmost branches of the trees sc.r.a.pe against the keel as the aircraft just crept over them, to glide down on the water; but that was probably an exaggeration. Ginger sagged a little lower in his seat with relief as the immediate danger pa.s.sed; provided that there were no obstacles floating on the river all would now be well. Actually there were obstructions, as Biggles afterwards found out, but partly by luck, and partly by skilful flying, he avoided them, and the Wanderer sent swarms of crocodiles scurrying as it surged to a standstill on a long, open reach.

Biggles sat back. 'Well, so far so good,' he announced. 'It's time we had a bite to eat.

Ginger, get some grub out of the box.'

'Wouldn't it be better to make her fast to the bank first?' suggested Algy.

It probably would-but how are we going to get to the bank?' returned Biggles.

Algy frowned as he realised the significance of Biggles's question. With the engine out of action they were as helpless as if they had been afloat on a raft without a paddle.

I don't think we need worry about that,' resumed Biggles. 'We shall drift ash.o.r.e presently, probably at a bend. As a matter of fact, it suits us to drift downstream, because sooner or later we ought to meet the petrol canoes coming up, and until we repair the, tank, and get some juice into it, we're helpless.'

And then what are you going to do?' inquired Ginger.

Biggles shrugged his shoulders. 'I don't know,' he confessed. It's a grim business, but we have at least discovered the Tiger's headquarters, And that's something. I feel inclined to go down to the coast and tell Carruthers about it, and leave it to him to decide on our next move. However, we'll go into that when we've had something to eat.'

Squatting on boxes in the little cabin, they made a substantial meal, leaving the Wanderer , to choose its own course, and in this way perhaps half an hour pa.s.sed.

It was Dusky who, not without alarm suddenly called attention to the increased speed of the machine, which could be judged by the rate at which the forest trees on either side were gliding past. At Dusky's shout, the comrades broke off their conversation and climbed out on the hull.

One glance at the river ahead was enough to warn them of their peril, and Biggles could have kicked himself for not taking the possibility into account. Perhaps a quarter of a mile downstream the river plunged between two rocky hills; they were not very high, but they were quite sufficient to force the water into a torrent that boiled and foamed as it flung itself against boulders that had fallen from either side. Already the Wanderer was prancing like nervous horse as it felt the surge of the current, turning slowly, sometimes floating broadside on in the middle of the river. Biggles looked swiftly at either bank in turn, but the nearest was a good fifty yards away, and this might as well have been a mile for all the hope there was of reaching it.

If she hits one of those rocks she'll crumple like an eggsh.e.l.l!' shouted Algy, steadying himself as the machine gathered speed.

I suppose it's no use trying to hook the bottom with an anchor?' suggested Ginger.

'No use at all,' answered Biggles promptly. 'Nothing will hold her now. Grab a spare spar, both of you, and try to fend her of when we come to the rocks. It's our only chance-but for heaven's sake don't fall overboard.'

So saying, he s.n.a.t.c.hed up a spare strut and crawled forward until he was lying spreadeagled across the bows. His expression was hard as he looked at the rapids ahead, for there did not appear to be the slightest chance of the Wanderer surviving the ordeal that was now inevitable-at any rate, not unless the nose of the machine could be kept straight.

None of them could really say exactly what happened during the next ten minutes. The period was just a confused memory of foaming water and blinding spray. The Wanderer bucked and jumped like a live creature, yet somehow, between them, they managed to keep her fairly straight. The greatest mystery was that none of them fell overboard as they thrust with desperate energy at the rocks which seemed to leap up in their path.

Then, suddenly, it was all over, and the machine floated smoothly on another stretch of tranquil water.

Biggles crawled back from his hazardous position on the bows, wringing the water from his hair and inspecting the palms of his hands, which had been blistered by the strut. The others were in much the same state, and they sank wearily down to recover their breath and their composure.

In future we'd better keep an eye on where we're going,' muttered Ginger bitterly, gazing ahead as they rounded a bend. His expression became fixed as he stared. Then, with a hoa.r.s.e cry, he struggled to his feet. 'Look out, there's another lot ahead!' he yelled.

Biggles took one look in the direction in which Ginger was staring. Then he s.n.a.t.c.hed up the end of the mooring-rope and dived overboard. Holding the line in his teeth, he struck out for the bank.

Had he not struck shallow water so that he could get his feet on the bottom sooner than he expected, it is unlikely that he would have reached it, for the Wanderer was already gathering speed as the river swept on towards the next lot of rapids. But having got his feet planted firmly on a shelving sandbank, he flung his full weight on the rope, and so caused the lightly floating aircraft to swing round near the bank lower down, close enough for Algy and Ginger to seize branches of over-hanging trees, and hang on until the machine could be brought to a safe mooring.

'Who suggested this crazy picnic?' muttered Biggles sarcastically, as, dripping, he climbed aboard.

I did,' grinned Ginger.

'Then perhaps you'll think of a way out of the mess we're in,' returned Biggles. 'There are rapids below us and rapids above us and our tank is dry. We look like staying here for some time. You might get the tank mended for a start-in case we need it again.'

Okay,' agreed Ginger, and went to work. 'What are you going to do?' he inquired.

'Walk down the bank to the next lot of rapids, to see how bad they are,' answered Biggles. 'We've got to make contact with the petrol which Carruthers promised to send before we can do anything. Come on, Algy. You'd better come too, Dusky, in case we need your advice.'

Leaving Ginger alone, the others made their way, not without difficulty, down the riverbank, disturbing more than one alligator that lay basking in the stagnant heat. Presently it was possible to ascertain that the rapids stretched for nearly half a mile; they were worse than the first, and Biggles at once dismissed all idea of attempting to shoot them in the aircraft. Beyond the rapids the river resumed its even course, winding placidly through the tropical vegetation. They followed it for some time, but as there appeared to be no change, they were about to start on the return journey when Dusky halted, sniffing like a dog.

'What is it?' asked Biggles quickly.

Dusky's big, child-like eyes opened wide as he whispered nervously that he could smell fire.

Biggles could not understand how this could be, for it seemed impossible that the green jungle, damp in the steaming heat, could take fire; but he followed Dusky, who was now creeping forward silently, every muscle tense, peering into the verdure ahead. After a little while he stopped, and, beckoning to the others, pointed.

Biggles, following the outstretched finger, saw that a little way in front, near the riverbank, the undergrowth had been cut and trampled down, obviously by human agency. In the centre of this area a fire still smouldered. Near it was a brown object, which presently he perceived was a human foot protruding from the debris. Flies swarmed in the still air.

I'm afraid that fellow's dead, whoever he is,' murmured Algy in a low voice.

'Sure ma.s.sa, he dead,' agreed Dusky.