Biggles In The Jungle Part 9

The old man continued to walk forward, arms outstretched, as though to embrace a friend.

A cry of horror broke from Biggles's lips, and he dashed forward. At a distance of ten paces from the mound, which he saw was coil after coil of snake, he halted, and raising his rifle, tried to take aim. Perspiration was pouring down his face. The stench was now overpowering. The mist caused the target to dance before his eyes, yet he knew that it would be worse than useless to fire blindly into the body of the creature. It must be the head or nothing.

To make sure, there was only one thing to do, and he did it. He ran in close, took deliberate aim at the squat head now turning towards him, and fired.

In the silent forest the crash of the explosion sounded like the crack of doom. It was followed, first, by a wild scream from Dusky, who fell flat on his face, and, secondly, by a series of furious smas.h.i.+ng thuds, as if a tornado was flinging down the mighty trees.

The mound was no longer there; instead, the centre of the clearing was occupied by seemingly endless coils which, with insensate fury, threshed and looped over and among the rank gra.s.s. The end of one such loop caught Biggles in the back and sent him spinning, but he was up again in an instant; waiting only to recover the rifle, which had been knocked out of his hands, he caught Dusky by the scruff of the neck and dragged him like an empty sack towards the edge of the jungle. Behind him, the cras.h.i.+ng and thumping continued with unabated fury, and he recalled vaguely having read somewhere that even ifit is decapitated, the anaconda, the great snake of the Central American forests, may take twenty-four hours to die.

Dusky began to howl, so Biggles stopped and dragged him to his feet. 'Shut up,' he snapped. 'You're not hurt.'

Oh, ma.s.sa, oh, ma.s.sa, I thought dat ole snake had got me,' moaned Dusky.

'Come on, let's get out of this,' growled Biggles, who, to his disgust, was more unnerved [image]

than he would have cared to admit.

Dusky, with many a nervous backward glance, followed him obediently back to the rendezvous.

'What made you go blundering towards the snake as if you were crazy?' inquired Biggles, half angrily, half curiously. I didn't see no snake, ma.s.sa,'

answered Dusky weakly. 'Then how did you know it was there?'

I dunno, ma.s.sa. I just knew, that's all.'

'So you went up to it? What were you going to do-play with it?' sneered Biggles.

I just couldn't help going,' protested Dusky. 'De snake called me, and I went. I told you dem ole snakes bewitch folks.'

'Well, that one won't do any more bewitching,' replied Biggles crisply. He knew it was useless to argue with the old man, for nothing would shake his inherent conviction that he had been bewitched. Indeed, Biggles, to his annoyance, had an uneasy feeling that there might be something in the superst.i.tion after all, for he himself had been conscious of a sensation for which he could not account.

He could still hear the dying monster flinging itself about in the savannah, but he knew there was nothing more to be feared from it.

'Come on, Dusky, pull yourself together,' he exclaimed. 'I've blown the snake's head off, so it can't hurt you now. I only hope that my shot was not heard by Bogat or the Tiger.

Are you feeling better?'

Dusky drew a deep breath, 'Yes, ma.s.sa,' he said shakily, Tse better now. But dat ole snakeForget about it,' snapped Biggles.

'Yes, ma.s.sa.'

'Were you on your way back?'

'Yes, ma.s.sa.'

'Then you've been to the bottom of the steps?' What did you discover?'

'Just like I said, ma.s.sa-dey's gone.'

'Gone? What do you mean?'

Dusky explained that he had been right up to the foot of the stairway, to the spot where, at the time of his escape, he had been forced to dig with the gang working among the ruins. These diggings were now abandoned except for one old man who had been left in charge of a store-shed. This old fellow was well known to Dusky; he was one of the forced labourers, and consequently had no love for his taskmasters. For this reason Dusky had not hesitated to reveal himself; but except for the fact that everyone, including the newly captured white men, had gone to some distant place far up the stairway to dig in some fresh ruins, he knew nothing.

If he said distant place, it rather looks as if they've gone right up to the top-to the plateau where we landed the machine,' said Biggles thoughtfully. 'There are some ruins up there, as we know. Had they only gone to the valley where the king's house is situated, he would have said so.'

Dusky agreed.

'Then we shall have to go up there, too,' announced Biggles. 'We get captured fo' sure,'

muttered Dusky dubiously.

I can't see any alternative,' continued Biggles. 'We can't just sit here and do nothing-they might be up there for months.' 'How about de airplane?'

suggested Dusky.

'That's no use. We couldn't land on the plateau without being seen or heard. No, Dusky, I'm afraid it means going up on foot, but you needn't come if you don't want to.'

I don't want to, but I'll come,' offered the old man courageously.

Biggles thought for a moment. 'I'll tell you what, though. I shall be pretty conspicuous in these clothes. If I could make myself look a bit more like one of the workmen I might be taken for a slave if we are seen. Is there any chance of getting an old pair of blue pantaloons, like those you wear?'

Dusky thought he could get a pair at the store-shed. 'That old man won't betray us, I hope?'

'No, sah,' declared Dusky emphatically. 'He like the rest, be glad if you killed de Tiger so dey can all go back to de coast. He'll help us. I make your face brown with berries, den you look like a no-good Indian.'

Biggles smiled in the darkness. 'That's a good idea. Let's start. There will be less chance of our being seen if we travel by night. Can you find your way to the store-shed? I can't see a blessed thing.'

'You foller me, ma.s.sa; I show you,' said Dusky simply.

They set off Dusky was never at fault, but the darkness was such that progress was necessarily slow, and it was some time before they reached the foot of the steps, where, in the store-shed, the old watchman crouched over a smouldering fire. He made no difficulty about finding a pair of ragged pantaloons, and this was the only garment Biggles put on. Really, in the steamy heat of the jungle, he was glad of an excuse to discard his own clothes, which the watchman hid under a pile of stones. Without guessing how much was to depend on them, Biggles transferred his cigarettes and matches to the pocket of his new trousers.

He was in some doubt about the rifle, for it was obvious that he could not carry it without it being seen. In the end he decided to take it, even if it became necessary to hide it somewhere later on. His automatic he strapped to his thigh, under his trousers.

Meanwhile, Dusky and the old watchman, taking a torch, had gone into the forest, and presently returned with a load of red berries. These were boiled in an iron pot, and after the liquid had cooled Biggles more or less gave himself a bath in it. Fortunately, he could not see himself, or he might have been alarmed at the change, for instead of being white he was now the colour of coffee.

Thanking the watchman, and promising him deliverance from servitude in the near future, Biggles and Dusky set off on their long climb up Jacob's Ladder.

They came first to the valley in which the village was situated; but all was silent, so they wasted no time there. Continuing on up the steps, they found themselves just below the summit about two hours before dawn-as near as Biggles could judge.

Here he turned off into a narrow ravine, for he was tired to the point of exhaustion.

Dusky appeared to suffer no such inconvenience, and offered to keep watch while he, Biggles, had a short sleep, an offer that Biggles accepted, and ordered Dusky to wake him at the first streak of dawn.

He appeared to have done no more than close his eyes when Dusky was shaking him by the shoulder. Before dropping off to sleep he had made his plan, and this he now put into execution.

'You're going to stay here,' he told Dusky. 'You can take charge of the biscuits and the rifle and wait until I come back. If I'm not back within forty-eight hours you can reckon that I've been caught, in which case try to make your way to the coast and let Mr.

Carruthers know what's happened. All being well, I shall be back here, with the others, before very long. Keep under cover.'

With this parting injunction, Biggles went back to the steps, and after a cautious reconnaissance moved on towards the top. He now proceeded with the greatest care; and it was as well that he did, for while he was still a hundred feet from the top he was mortified to see a man sitting on a rock, a rifle on his arm, obviously doing duty as sentry. To pa.s.s him without being seen was clearly impossible, so Biggles, after exploring the cliff on his left for the best place, scaled it, and went on through a chaos of rocks towards the plateau. Guided now by distant shouts, and the occasional crack of a whip, he worked his way forward, and presently, as he hoped, found himself in a position overlooking the plateau.

To his right, perhaps a hundred yards away, sat the sentry at the head of the stairway.

With this man he was not particularly concerned-at any rate, for the time being.

Immediately in front, and slightly below, lay the ruined village. Here a gang of men was working with picks and shovels, or carrying away baskets of earth. Altogether, there were about forty workmen, and Biggles had no difficulty in picking out Algy, Ginger and the stranger. They were working close together. Watching the gang were six guards, standing in pairs. They carried rifles. Another man, an enormous Indian, walked amongst the labourers swis.h.i.+ng a vicious-looking whip. Not far away, in the shade of a ruined house, squatted the Tiger and his two white companions. Close behind them stood two natives in tawdry uniforms; they also carried rifles, and were evidently a sort of bodyguard. Beyond, s.h.i.+mmering in the heat of the morning sun, the plateau lay deserted.

For some time Biggles lay still, surveying the scene thought..

fully. A big patch of grotesque p.r.i.c.kly pear attracted his attention, and he saw that if he moved along a little to the left he could use this as a screen to cover an advance into the village. Once among the houses, it should, he thought, be possible to get right up to the gang of workmen, and so make contact with Algy and Ginger-which was his main object. Beyond that he had no definite plan.

Like a scouting Indian he backed down from his elevated position and began working his way towards the p.r.i.c.kly pear.

I2.

GINGER GETS SOME SHOCKS.

WHEN Algy, Ginger and Eddie had been marched off through the forest by Bogat they did not know where they were being taken, but, naturally, they could make a good guess.

Unless Bogat had some scheme of his own, it seemed probable that they would be taken to the Tiger. This suspicion was practically confirmed when they reached the foot of the stairway. Two hours later, utterly worn out, and in considerable discomfort from insect bites and scratches, they were standing before the King of the Forest, who eyed them with undisguised satisfaction.

In his heart, Ginger expected nothing less than a death sentence, but that was because he did not realise the value of labour in the tropics, particularly white labour, which is always better than native work. It was, therefore, with relief that the received the news that they were to be put in the slave-gang. Algy, being older, perceived that this was, in fact, little better than a death sentence; that without proper food, clothes and medical treatment, they were unlikely to survive long in a climate which sapped the vitality even of the natives. However, he agreed with Ginger's optimistic observation that while they were alive there was hope; for, after all, Biggles was still at large. Whether or not he would ever learn what had happened to them was another matter. They were not to know that Dusky had been a witness of the attack.

They were in evil case by the time they reached the plateau, for they had been given only a little maize bread and water, barely enough to support life. The stench of the stone building, little better than a cattle-pen, into which on arrival they were herded with the other slaves, all Indians or half-castes, nearly made Ginger sick. Life under such conditions would, he thought, soon become intolerable.

Tired as they were, sleep was out of the question, and they squatted miserably in a corner, waiting for daylight. At dawn the door was opened by a man who carried a heavy whip; behind him were six other men carrying rifles. A quant.i.ty of food, in the nature of swill, was poured into a trough; upon this the slaves threw themselves like animals, eating ravenously with their hands, scooping up the foul mixture in cupped palms. The three white men took no part in this performance.

A few minutes only were allowed for this meal, after which the gang was formed into line and made to march past a shed from which picks and shovels were issued. Thus equipped, they went to what had once been the main street of the village, where a shallow trench had been opened. The gang-boss cracked his whip and the slaves started work, deepening and extending the trench.

'What do you suppose we're doing?' asked Ginger, getting into the trench behind Algy.

'Probably laying the telephone,' returned Algy sarcastically. 'Ha, ha,' sneered Ginger. '

Very funny.'

The gang-boss advanced, brandis.h.i.+ng his whip. 'No talking,' he snarled.

Ginger drove his pick viciously into the sun-baked earth, and thereafter for a while work proceeded in silence.

'Here comes the Tiger,' murmured Algy presently.

I'll tear the stripes off his hide one day,' grated Eddie. 'They can't do this to me.'

It seems as though they're doing it,' grunted Algy.

Ginger went on working. There was no alternative, for he had no wish to feel the whip across his shoulders.

A few minutes later, standing up to wipe the, perspiration out of his eyes, he noticed something. It was nothing spectacular. He had already realised, from the nature of the ground, which consisted largely of broken paving-stones, that the trench was crossing the foundations of what must have been a large building. One or two of the supporting columns, although they had been broken off short, were still standing; one such column was only a few paces away on his right, and without any particular interest his eyes came to rest on it. They were at once attracted to a mark-or rather, two marks. At first he gazed at them without conscious thought; then, suddenly, his eyes cleared as he made out that the marks were initials.

There were two sets, one above the other. The lower ones had almost been obliterated by the hand of time, after the manner of an old tombstone, but it was still possible to read the incised scratches. They were the letters E.C., and were followed by the date, 186o.

There was no need for him to look closely at the date of the initials above to see that they were comparatively recent. The letters were L.R., and the date 1937. A suspicion, dim as yet, darted into Ginger's mind. He threw a quick glance at the gang-boss to make sure that he was not being watched, and then leaned forward to confirm that his reading of the lower initials had been correct. In doing this he put his hands on the end of a stone slab in such a way that his weight fell on it. Instantly it began to turn as though on a pivot, and he flung himself back with a gasp of fear, for he had a nasty sensation that he had nearly fallen into an old well. Another quick glance revealed the gang-boss walking towards him, so he went to work with a will, aware that he was slightly breathless.

The lash swished through the air, but without actually touching him. It was a warning, and he took it-at least, while the boss was within hearing. Then he spoke to Algy, who was working just in front of him.

Algy,' he whispered, 'you remember Biggles talking about a treasure supposed to have been discovered in these parts by a fellow named Carmichael?'

'Yes.'

'What was his Christian name, do you remember?'

'No-why?'

'Do you remember the date?'

Yes-1860.'

"Then this is where Carmichael came. I've just seen his mark. Go on working-don't look round.'

Ginger now spoke under his arm to Eddie, who was behind him.

Eddie, you said you came here on a treasure-hunt?' 'Sure I did.'

'There was a map, I believe?'

'That's right.'

'Who drew it?'

A guy named Roberts-Len Roberts.'

And was there a date?'

'Sure. It was 1937. What's the idea? Do you reckon we're on a treasure-hunt now?'

I'm certain of it,' replied Ginger. 'You see that paper the Tiger is looking at? Does that look like your map?'

It sure does.'

'Then it's the treasure we're after. We're driving a trench right across the area where it is supposed to be.'

At this point, much to Ginger's disgust, further conversation was interrupted by an Indian, who dropped into the trench between him and Eddie.

'Here, you, get out of the way,' grunted Ginger, hoping that the man would understand what he meant.

'Go on digging,' answered a voice quietly.

Ginger started violently, and nearly dropped his pick. His nerves seemed to twitch, for there was no mistaking the voice. It was Biggles.