Biggles Hunts Big Game Part 4

Reconnaissance By the time the day was losing its heat Ginger and Bertie had settled in. They had read the rules and had made themselves acquainted with the layout of the lodge. As far as the rules were concerned there was nothing against which objection could be taken. Actually, at their face value they had been framed more for the benefit of the guests than for the company.

As they had already been warned, the power-house was out of bounds-not that there was any reason why a guest should want to go near the place. Guests were not to go out alone, but only in charge of a professional hunter provided by the company. There were several sound reasons for such a rule. The professional hunters knew the best areas for game; they knew the bounddaries of the different beats, with the result that they were able to ensure that guests did not spoil each others sport, or by accident shoot each other. It also reduced the risk of one hunter being mauled by a beast wounded by another. Beats were changed daily. Guests were requested to be home by sundown, and must at all times abide by the decisions of their hunters. Guests were not allowed in the native compound, and were forbidden to make private arrangements with the pilots of the company's aircraft for any purpose whatsoever. Arrangements for the transport of letters, parcels, and the like, could be made, but all mails and freight must pa.s.s through the company's private post office.

73 All this, as Bertie averred, was fair enough.

In the matter of the lodge the advertis.e.m.e.nts had not lied. The place, comparatively speaking, was a luxury hotel. The general shape was three sides of a square, the front portion being a lounge and dining-room, and the sides, the sleeping accommodation. The lounge, in which the air was kept moving by electric fans, was the last word in comfort. The walls were decorated by trophies of the chase. It was served by native waiters who could provide almost anything in the nature of refreshment. The coloured staff lived in its own quarters outside the wire.

Apart from themselves, Ginger ascertained from a waiter, there were only four other guests in residence. Two were wealthy Americans who had come together. Their time was up, but they had had good sport and were staying on for a day or two. Of the remaining two one was a Frenchman, an official of the French Diplomatic Corps, a man well known in society and a celebrated big game shot. He was leaving on the morrrow at the expiration of his tour, in the Pacemaker that had brought them down. The fourth guest was what is usually called in hotels, a permanency. He was a frail, eccentric, grey-bearded old man thought to be a Czech, named Doctor Dorov. He was a.s.sumed to be well off, for he had been at the lodge for nearly a year. Wearing dark sun gla.s.ses he shuffled about in a pair of old slippers, shabby, puffing at an enormous meerschaum pipe, intent on his one pursuit, which was ornithology. He had a private sitting-room in which he often worked, and where he kept his ever-growing collection of African birds. He attended to the preservation of the skins himself, wrote copious notes about them, and sometimes sent specimens home. More than once, as he 74 ill.u.s.tration 75 looked at him, Ginger had a feeling that he had seen the old man before somewhere; there was something in the shape of his head that reminded him of somebody, but he could not call the circ.u.mstances to mind.

The Frenchman had that day shot a magnificent buffalo; the head had been brought in by porters and was now in the taxidermist's workshop being prepared for transport home. They went with him to see it. The building stood some distance from the rest, and as he drew near Ginger understood why. The place had an unpleasant smell, although this of course was only to be expected. The big room was a veritable museum. Two men were at work. One of them told Ginger, in reply to a question about these trophies, that Kudinga served as a supply base for several famous natural [image]

history museums. In other words, specimens shot by the company's professional hunters could be bought. There was an implication, which made Bertie frown, that if they were unlucky at their sport there would be no need for them to advertise their lack of success by going home empty-handed. The company could provide trophies.

"I wouldn't mind that one," confessed Ginger, pointting to a well-preserved elephant's foot. Taken off just above the knee and mounted with silver it had been made up into a receptacle.

"It might be arranged," said the head taxidermist. "We will speak about it again later, just before you go. By that time you may have shot an elephant yourself."

Actually, neither Bertie nor Ginger were particularly interested in this branch of the organization, but living up to the roles they were playing they remained for a little while longer, talking. They learned that should their hunting be successful their trophies would be sent home free of charge. It was part of the service.

76 Naturally, in the short time at its disposal, the taxiderrmist's department at Kudinga could only make a temporary job.

Finis.h.i.+ng touches and final setting-up would be done at the company's natural history department in London, Paris, or New York, as the case might demand. When they were finally completed, trophies were sent on to any address the client wished.

"We must admit that the company has got its show well organized," a.s.serted Ginger as they strolled away. " Naturally people want to take their trophies home with them, but they've made such a big thing of this taxidermists' department that I'm beginning to wonder if there isn't more behind it than meets the eye."

Presently he stopped and gazed down the inside slope of the crater towards the bamboo swamp in which the power-plant was situated. Clearly through the soft African sunset came the beat and throb of engines. "I wonder why they put that power-plant down there?" he murmured.

"They'd have to have it well away from the bungalow or the noise of the engines would annoy people," offered Bertie.

Ginger nodded. "Maybe. The water would be down there, too, not on top of the hill. It's the fact that the place is out of bounds that interests me. If there is anything funny going on here I'd say it was in that alleged snake-infested bamboo swamp. The word snake would be enough to keep most people away. I wonder if that story of snakes is true? It might be a bluff. Sooner or later we shall have to give that place the once-over. It's going to be a ticklish job. I imagine it will have to be done at night-we should be seen in daylight."

"Here, I say, old boy, you're not going to ask me to 77 toddle about amongst puff-adders by moonlight, I hope? "

"We'll wrestle with the problem later," decided Ginger. "What worries me most at the moment is how we are to get this information through to Biggles."

With the daylight now fading fast they strolled on a little way down the slope, towards the bottom extremity of the fence. Here they saw another gate, a small one. A padlock was conspicuous.

"That's obviously a short cut to the power-house," observed Ginger. "I imagine Kreeze keeps the key of that gate. It's no use going any farther. You realize that when the main gate is closed at sundown we are prisoners. I wouldn't care to try to climb over that confounded fence."

"That's the idea of the bally thing, of course," said Bertie.

"No doubt of it," agreed Ginger. "I wish to goodness Biggles was here. I hate being out of touch with him. I'm trying to work the thing out as he would."

"That's all we can do," agreed Bertie moodily.

"I can imagine how interested Biggles would be in that fence," went on Ginger. "It must have cost a lot of money.

People don't spend that amount of money without good reason. Apart from the power-house I reckon the fence is the most suspicious thing here. It's the nearest thing I've seen to a n.a.z.i concentration camp. The reasons that Kreeze gave for it are sheer eyewash. Who ever heard of a hunter putting himself inside a pen for fear of the beasts he's hunting?

Natives often pile up a thorn fence-but then they sleep rough . . . in the open. Which reminds me; I wonder how many blacks they employ at this place? Let's walk over to the fence nearest to them and have a look."

78 "Do they matter?" questioned Bertie.

"They matter this much," answered Ginger. "They're all servants of the company and would do what Kreeze told them.

They probably know every inch of the country, which means that we should have a poor chance of getting away on foot should we ever be compelled to attempt it. Don't forget that in the matter of transport we are now completely in Kreeze's hands. He could keep us here indefinitely if he wanted to. The tour lasts a month. Biggles is going to get impatient long before that if he doesn't hear from us. Just a mmute-what goes on here?

This last remark was prompted by something that was happening a short dIstance away, although it was on the other side of the fence. Two natives were having an argument about something and in their anger their voices were raIsed.

Both were well-built men dressed native fas.h.i.+on. One wore a leopard skin kaross. Ginger naturally supposed that they would be talking in their natlve tongue, and his astonishment was great therefore, when he heard that not only were they talking Enghsh, but talking it with a strong, slangy, American accent.

"Sure I did! So what? You cheap double-crosser," snarled one."

"Okay-okay," returned the other. "We'll see what the boss has to say about it, smart guy."

The effect of this conversation was to cause Ginger to stop abruptly. It was clear that the men had not noticed them so catching Bertie by the arm he retired quickly behind some convenient bushes.

"Well, blow me down!" breathed Bertie.

"That certainly is a corker-something I didn't expect," muttered Ginger. "Those blacks are no more 79 natives than we are. They're negroes imported from the United States. They're likely to be more dangerous than native tribesmen. This certainly puts a different complexion on things. Good thing we spotted it, but it's getting dark; we'd better be drifting along towards the lodge. I wonder what Robinson is up to? "

They had not gone far when they encountered Kreeze.

Seeing them, he walked briskly towards them, as if he had been looking for them.

"Ah! There you are, gentlemen," he said in a business-like manner. "I am just preparing the beats for tomorrow and I should like to know how you feel in the matter of exercise. Do you feel like having a strenuous day on one of the distant beats, or would you prefer to be nearer home?"

Now, while it would not be strictly true to say that Ginger had no interest in the country, his main concern lay in the real purpose of his visit. Journeys to distant parts of the territory, where he could not expect to learn anything, were therefore a waste of time. For which reason he was not long making up his mind.

"I think for the first day we'd better stay near home," he decided. "We've had a long and tiring journey getting here, and I think it would be a good thing if we got our muscles into shape before taking on the real hard going."

"I think you are wise," agreed Kreeze. "I'll make arrangements accordingly."

"We should like to do our hunting together, if it's all the same to you," suggested Ginger.

"Certainly. It makes no difference, except that you'll have to share the shooting, of course; but you probably won't mind that. If you're going together one hunter will be enough. You can have Kisumo.

80 He's a good man. By the way, it's nearly dinner-time." With a curt nod Kreeze walked away in the direction of his office.

Ginger and Bertie carried on towards their quarters to have a wash before dinner. In doing this they had to pa.s.s near the taxidermist's building. They had just gone by when the turning of a door handle made Ginger look back. He saw Robinson and Doctor Dorov come out. Engaged in earnest conversation they walked down a barely-discernible track towards the power-house. Doctor Dorov had lost his shuffle.

" So that's it," breathed Ginger. "It looks as if our venerable naturalist, like everything else here, is a fake. We'll bear it in mind."

They went on to the bungalow. At the door they encountered Colonel Dupray.

"Here, I say you fellows!" he exclaimed. "What's all this I hear about officers of the Indian Army having to carry radio when on leave outside the range of ordinary communications?"

Ginger experienced a sinking sensation in the stomach.

He drew a deep breath. "How did you hear about it, sir? " he inquired.

"Kreeze asked me about it."

"And what did you tell him?"

"I told him it was a lot of nonsense, of course. I'm on the General Headquarters Staff and any such order would have to go through my office."

"Must be a mistake somewhere, sir," said Ginger lamely.

"Can't imagine who'd start that silly rumour," muttered the colonel.

" Nor I, sir," said Ginger sadly.

He walked on, followed by Bertie. As soon as they 81 were out of earshot of the colonel he stopped, and looking Bertie in the eyes, made a grimace. "I'm afraid that's torn it," he observed quietly. "How were we to know that Dupray was Indian Army? That's sheer bad luck. If Kreeze didn't suspect us before, on account of our trying to bring radio in, he does now. Well, there's nothing we can do about it. He won't be long showing his hand, I fancy."

Chapter 7.

Ginger Climbs A Tree GINGER was awakened the following morning by the unmistakable noise of an aircraft being started up. It was still very early. Going to the window he saw that the sun was just rising in a crystal-clear African sky. The aircraft that had brought them down was preparing to leave. The pilot who had flown it on that occasion was there, obviously intending to take it back. The only pa.s.senger as far as Ginger could make out was the Frenchman; he was there, watching his luggage and trophies being put aboard. Presently Kreeze went out and spoke to him. They shook hands and parted, Kreeze returning to the lodge. In another few minutes the machine was in the air, heading north. It disappeared, and silence settled over the scene.

Thinking things over Ginger dressed leisurely. Bertie joined him at breakfast. They lingered over coffee half expecting to be called to the manager's office for an explanation of the matter in which Colonel Dupray, in 82 all innocence, they were convinced, had let them down-why they had made up the story of Indian Army officers being compelled to carry radio. However, they saw nothing of Kreeze. A steward presented them with their luncheon sandwiches neatly wrapped in paper and told them that Kisumo, their hunter, was waiting on the verandah; so they had no choice than to proceed with the roles they were playing. In view of what Kreeze now knew, that they had tried surrept.i.tiously to bring in a radio transmitter, Ginger had an uncommfortable feeling that these roles were getting a bit thin. If they were watching Kreeze, then it was certain that he would be keeping an eye on them.

Having collected their hunting gear from their quarters they joined the hunter who was to be their guide and general adviser for the day. He turned out to be a big, surly-looking type of native African, dressed partly in native style and partly European-a mixture that is never attractive. It seemed that he was able to speak only a little English, and very broken English at that; but in view of what Ginger and Bertie had overheard the previous evening, when they had caught two of the blacks arguing, they resolved not to put too much reliance in this apparent ignorance. They would be wiser, opined Ginger, to set a guard on their tongues, taking the view that what they said would be reported to Kreeze.

For the rest, they could only accept the black at his face value; they felt sure that if he was a fraud he would sooner or later give himself away.

Kisumo began by indicating with his spear the general direction of their march. That he knew his way about was not to be doubted. Somewhat to Ginger's surprise it now transpired that their beat was inside the crater. He had a.s.sumed-not that he had any particular reason 83 for the a.s.sumption-that they would be going down to the plains. This was not so. Kisumo explained haltingly that a few miles beyond the forest belt that came up over the lip of the crater, and ran down the inside as far as the bamboo swamp, there was an old river-bed, mostly dry but with stagnant pools at intervals, in which game was always to be found. There would certainly be antelope of different kinds; there might be lion, and rhino, and buffalo in the reed-beds.

They set off, taking a course round the lip of the crater to the forest-belt, which in no place was more than a mile in width-less in most places. The timber turned out to be no obstacle, for a well-worn game track took them to the far side. Bertie, who looked with the eyes of experience, saw numerous tracks in the soft earth. It was evident that there was plenty of game in the forest, but he did not need to be told that it would be a dangerous, if not impossible, place to look for it. Once they were in the heavy shade of the trees, surrounded by dark rank undergrowth, they could no longer see the lodge.

From the far side, where the timber gave way to a sunny gra.s.sy slope with frequent small outcrops of weathered grey stone, they were able to overlook the beat that had been allotted to them. It was, naturally, of considerable extent, and a good deal rougher than might have been supposed from a distance, with the ground falling away all the time towards the great central depression. The only living creature that could be seen in a preliminary survey was a rhino, standing on the edge of some scrub about two miles away. As Ginger focussed his binoculars on the beast Kisumo said that he knew the animal well. He was a wary old brute that had been shot at more than once, so it was a 84 waste of time to try to stalk him. With his spear the native pointed to the old river-bed, which could easily be followed by the more verdant colour of its vegetaation. There lay the best chance of sport, he stated, and suggested that they should make straight for it.

While the man was talking an idea had been taking shape in Ginger's mind. The scene in front of him was quite interesting in a way, but he was far more conncerned with what lay behind; for the belt of trees through which they had pa.s.sed was the one which, at its lower extremity, ended in the bamboo swamp in which the power-house was situated. The forest sloped down steeply inside the crater, and it seemed certain that could he be left alone he ought to have no difficulty in finding a place that commanded a near view of the area that had been put out of bounds. The powerhouse drew him like a magnet. How near it might be possible to get to it was a matter for conjecture, but his binoculars should enable him to inspect it more closely than from any other viewpoint.

So desirable an objective did this seem that he determined to try a plan which, if it succeeded, might be profitable, and if it failed could do no harm. The difficulty was to advise Bertie of the scheme without being overheard by Kisumo, whom he did not trust. If they were seen whispering together the black might well wonder what was going on, and if his real job was to spy on them then he would at once be on the alert. Having thought the matter over Ginger resolved to prooceed with the plan, trusting that a wink would be sufficient to tell Bertie all that was necessary. Conseequently, when they had gone on for perhaps a quarter of a mile, he tripped over a loose piece of rock, which brought him with a cry of pain to his knees. When he 85 attempted to rise he caught his breath sharply, dropped his rifle, and sank back, clutching at his ankle. "That's done it,"

he muttered bitterly.

Here, I say, old boy, what's wrong?" asked Bertie with deep concern.

"I'm afraid I've twisted my ankle," Ginger told him with a wry face.

"What a bally nuisance."

Kisumo had also turned, of course. He was watching closely, too closely for Ginger to make any sort of signal to Bertie, who suggested that they had better go back.

" Nothing of the sort," argued Ginger. "You push along. I'll stay here. I shall be all right. I don't think I've done any serious damage and it might soon get all right with a rest; but if I go on walking it will probably get worse, and we might finish up with you having to carry me home."

Bertie looked doubtful. At that moment something attracted Kisumo's attention and he glanced away. This was the opportunity for which Ginger had been waiting and he did not let it slip. He flashed a wink. Bertie started; then a light of understanding dawned in his eyes.

"I'd like to get a shot if I can," he observed.

"There's no reason why you shouldn't," a.s.serted Ginger.

"You are sure you'll be all right here for a bit?" "Right as rain. You go on with Kisumo. I'll stay here and rest; you can pick me up on the way home."

Bertie turned to Kisumo. "Is that all right with you?" he asked.

It was obvious from the expression on his face that the black was in a quandary. Here was a contingency 86 for which he was not prepared. Whatever his instructions might have been they did not cover the case. He hesitated.

That he did not suspect a trick was clear, but plainly he was worried by the thought of having his charges separated. .

"That'll be all right, Kisumo," prompted Gmger. "I'll wait here. Make a short day of it if you like. Collect me on the way back." He smiled. "All I ask is, don't leave me here after dark."

Bertie settled the matter. "All right, but don't go away from this spot," he adjured. "We shan't be late." With that he shouldered his rifle and strode on. Kisumo followed without another word.

Ginger sat and watched them until, at a distance of about a mile, they disappeared into a dip in the ground not far from the nearest point of the river-bed. He knew that once they started hunting seriously they would not expose themselves unnecessarily, so he did not expect to see them again. Nor did he. Well satisfied with the success of his subterfuge he got up, and taking advantage of all the cover available made his way back to the forest. He expected to be away for an hour or two at the most. In any case, in order to avoid explanations that might prove embarra.s.sing it was certainly his intention to be back well before Bertie and Kisumo returned to pick him up. That he might be prevented from doing this was a thought that did not occur to him.

Reaching the fringe of the forest he stopped, and turning round made a careful scrutiny of the area in which Bertie and Kisumo had disappeared, to confirm that they had not changed their minds and were coming back. They were not in sight, but he saw somethmg which for a moment or two held his attention. A lion, 87 or lioness-he was too far off to be sure which-disturbed by the hunters, had broken cover and was slinking away towards some tall elephant gra.s.s. He fully expected to hear the crack of Bertie's rifle; but the sound did not come, so he could only a.s.sume that the animal had slipped away unnoticed. Presently it disappeared from sight.

Entering the forest he at once turned downhill, the direction which was bound to take him to the bamboo swamp. Once off the track, the going, he found, was not so easy; the ground was boggy; everything was dripping wet and rather unpleasant; but he encountered no serious obstruction until he reached the first of the bamboos, when he came upon something which he had overlooked. It was the fence-or a fence. He had not realized that it went right on through the forest, to prevent an approach to the power-house from any direction.

To climb the fence was manifestly impossible. A monkey might have managed it, but nothing else. To stay where he was would not solve the problem, for what with bamboos and undergrowth he could not see more than a dozen yards.

So, for want of a better plan, he set off along the fence, hoping to find a place where the foliage was sufficiently thin for him to see the power-house. He found something better. A tree had fallen-recently, judging from the earth that clung to its roots-right across the fence, breaking it down. All he had to do was walk through the gap thus made. He smiled as he did so. For all the company's elaborate precautions they had been defeated by so simple a thing as a fallen tree. They should, he thought, have antic.i.p.ated the possibility. With such satisfying thoughts as these he went on down into the bamboos.

87.

Here the ground began to fall more sharply so that in places he could almost see over the tops of the green fronds in front of him and look down on the building that was his objective. Exactly how far he was away from it he did not know, for there was nothing to guide him. The engine was not running; at any rate he couldn't hear it. His chief concern was the ground under his feet, which was fast becoming a mora.s.ss-although this, as he realized, was the very reason why the bamboos grew there. The bog, obviously, was caused by sub-surface water seeping down from the higher ground. The only places where the earth was at all firm was round the roots of occasional trees, a species of willow, that occurred from time to time.

Curiously enough-at least, it seemed curious to him afterwards-he forgot all about ,the swamp's reputation for snakes. It may be that he did not seriously believe the story. But he remembered it with a jolt, when, springing down from one piece of firm ground to another, he nearly jumped on what is perhaps the most loathsome reptile in creation, and the most deadly-the African puff-adder. It was about three feet long and as thick as a man's arm, with a blunt head from which projected two fangs. He saw the snake just as he moved. It was lying quite still, curled up, but its little boot-b.u.t.ton eyes were on him. He had gone too far to draw back, so with a convulsive effort he jumped clean over it. The snake struck at him in pa.s.sing, its fangs missing his leg by a matter of inches. His jump must have been in the nature of a record. Landing, he did not stop, but plunged on for several yards before pulling up against a tree, white and shaken, cold with shock at the narrowness of his escape. Wiping perspiration 89 from his forehead with a trembling hand he watched the snake glide away into some thick gra.s.s.

For a moment or two he stood there, looking about him furtively, for the encounter had put a new complexion on his venture. He tried to tell himself that the reptile was probably an odd one which might have been anywhere, for the puff-adder is fairly common all over Central Africa; but he perceived that it would be foolish indeed to deceive himself. It was far more likely that the swamp was infested with snakes for it was an ideal place for them.

Proceeding now with apprehensive caution he reached a tree, about thirty feet high, which had its roots in firm clay.

Just in front of it there had been a minor landslide which had cleared the ground and thus opened up the view beyond.