Biggles In The Jungle Part 8

'Say, ask me something easier. Weeks, mebbe months.'

'These partners of yours,' resumed Ginger. 'Was one of them a tall, thin, jaundiced-looking bloke, with pale grey eyes and a big mouth, and the other a weedy-looking rat with hay-coloured hair and a wisp of moustache, stained with nicotine?'

Eddie uttered an exclamation of surprise. 'Say, that's them,' he answered quickly. 'I reckon you must have seen them?'

'You bet we have,' said Ginger bitterly, and then told their own story With more detail, including the events which had brought them into contact with the two white men in Tiger's secret village. He also mentioned that the disappearance of the party had caused the authorities some trouble.

'Say, now, what d'you know about that!' exclaimed Eddie when he had finished. 'Joe Warner and Silas Schmitt-they were my two precious partners-told me that there was a guy hereabouts who was boss of the whole works, but I didn't realise that he was such a big noise as you make out.'

'Your partners did, evidently,' put in Algy. 'They must have known that it was impossible for you to operate here without barging into him or his crowd, so it looks to me as if, having got you to finance them to the spot, they changed sides and left you in the lurch, knowing that you would never be able to get to the coast.'

'That's how it looks to me ' agreed Eddie. 'Can you talk the lingo these natives use?'

Not a word.'

'What do you reckon they'll do with us?'

Algy shook his head. 'I've no idea, but judging from their behaviour so far it won't be anything pleasant.'

'Then you reckon we haven't a chance of getting away?'

I wouldn't say that. Our chief is down the river, but he'll come back. Moreover, we've got a native servant about somewhere. It just happened that he was out of camp when the attack occurred, but when he gets back he'll guess what has happened, and he ought to be able to trail us. So, on the whole, things may not be as bad as they look.'

Eddie seemed to take encouragement from Algy's optimism. The conversation lapsed, Algy peering through one of the many flaws in the side of the hut in an endeavour to see what was going on outside. It seemed that the natives who had captured them were celebrating the event, with considerable noise.

He was still watching when, without warning, a volley ofshots rang out from the edge of the jungle. Several Indians fell. More shots followed. There were wild shouts, and the a.s.sembled Indians broke up in disorder, scattering and flying for their lives, some into the forest, others flinging themselves into their canoes and paddling away in a panic. Among these was the native who had been on duty at the door of the hut, so there was nothing to prevent those inside from leaving.

For a few seconds Algy hoped that the attack might have been launched by Biggles, who in some miraculous way had returned with a.s.sistance; but when Bogat appeared, a rifle under his arm, followed by his gang, his heart, and his hopes, sank.

Bogat saw the three white men at once, and his lips parted in a villainous leer. He covered them with his rifle, and in another moment they were surrounded.

It looks as if we've fallen out of the frying-pan into the fire,' murmured Ginger despondently.

'Who is this guy?' asked Eddie.

Briefly, Ginger told him. There was no time to go into details, for a rope was produced; the prisoners' hands were tied behind them, and a rope was pa.s.sed from one to the other.

Their captors, after setting fire to the huts, formed up in a rough column. Bogat took his place at the head of it, and the party moved off into the forest.

'Where do you suppose they're taking us?' asked Eddie.

I should say we're on our way to see the King of the Forest,' returned Ginger.

A burly half-caste flourished a whip, and put an end to further conversation.

The prisoners trudged on in silence through the green jungle.

II.

THE SNAKE.

As it transpired, Biggles had just enough petrol to reach the coast. He at once sought Carruthers, who was not a little surprised to see him, and made him acquainted with all that had happened. Carruthers was furious when he heard of the fate of the emergency petrol canoe; but when the real character of Chorro was revealed he was aghast, for he had always regarded him as a trustworthy servant. Unfortunately, nothing could be done about him at the moment, for by a coincidence Chorro had just applied for, and had been granted, three weeks' leave of absence.

'Where's he gone?' inquired Biggles.

up the river,' answered Carruthers frankly. 'He is supposed to have a bungalow somewhere, a matter of two or three days' journey. He's been up the river before.'

Biggles smiled grimly. 'It's more likely that he's making a visit to the Tiger, to report on the situation.'

Carruthers nodded. 'I'm afraid you're right,' he replied slowly. 'Never mind; I'll deal with the scoundrel when he comes back.'

If he does come back,' put in Biggles smoothly.

Carruthers gave him an odd look, but made no further comment on the subject. Instead, he asked Biggles what he intended doing.

'Have a bath, a square meal, fill up with petrol and take off again,' Biggles told him. 'I'm anxious to get back to the others.'

I still don't see how we're going to get hold of the Tiger and his crew,' remarked Carruthers, with a worried frown. 'I'd come back with you, but at the moment, with the Governor away, I can't leave-at least, not for any length of time.'

I must admit it isn't an easy proposition,' acknowledged Biggles. 'However, we're getting the hang of things, and sooner or later our chance will come.'

Further details were discussed, but nothing definite was arranged, and about two hours later, with full tanks, Biggles set off back up the river, relieved to see that the flood, which apparently had been caused by a local storm, had subsided.

He experienced a pang of uneasiness as he circled low over the camp and saw no sign of the others; but when he landed, taxied up to the bank and jumped ash.o.r.e, still without them putting in an appearance, his uneasiness turned to alarm. For a few minutes he stood still, occasionally calling, but when this produced no result he began to examine the ground more closely.

Actually there was nothing to show what had happened-not until, in the long gra.s.s, he found a broken arrow. Even then he hoped that the arrow might be an old one that had lain there for a long time; but when he looked at the fracture, and saw that it was recent, he knew it was no use deceiving himself. Indians had been to the camp; this was so obvious that he no longer marvelled at the absence of Algy and Ginger. He spent some time hunting about in the bushes, dreading what he might find, and breathed a sigh of relief when his fears proved groundless. 'They're prisoners,' he told himself, and that was had enough.

For once he was at a loss to know what to do for the best. He dismissed all thought of the Tiger. He was concerned only with Algy and Ginger, and, to a less extent, Dusky, whom he had left with them. Naturally, they would have to be rescued, but how he was to set about this in the jungle he could not imagine. No project that he could remember had seemed so hopeless.

Not for a moment did he relax his vigilance, for he realised that what had happened to the others might also happen to him. He lit a cigarette and tried to reconstruct the scene, and in so doing came up on the trail leading into the forest. This was a clue which he had not expected, for knowing that the Indians did most of their travelling by canoe, he had a.s.sumed that the attack had come from the river.

Now that he had something tangible to go on, he returned to the Wanderer, moored the aircraft securely to the bank and made it less conspicuous by throwing reeds and palm fronds over the wings. This done, he went to the cabin, selected a heavy Express rifle from the armoury, filled a cartridge-belt with ammunition and the pockets of his jacket with biscuits. Then, after a final glance round, he set off along the trail, which could be followed without difficulty.

He had not gone far when he was brought to an abrupt halt by a hoa.r.s.ely whispered '

Ma.s.sa.' He recognised the voice at once, but even so, his nerves tingled with shock.

'Dusky!' he called tersely. 'Where are you?'

Dusky dropped out of a tree and hurried to him.

'What happened?' asked Biggles shortly, wondering how the old man had escaped.

This Dusky soon explained. In mournful tones he related how he had gone into the forest to find food, a quest which-fortunately for him, as it happened-had taken him into a tree. The tree was at no great distance from the camp, and the sound of the a.s.sault had reached his ears. From his hiding-place he had watched Algy and Ginger being led away into the jungle. He apologised for not going to their rescue, but pointed out that, as the only weapon he had was a knife, he was in no position to take on a crowd of Indians.

This Biggles did not dispute. Indeed, when Dusky explained that he had remained in hiding, waiting for him to come back so that he could tell him what had happened, he congratulated him on his common sense.

I suppose you've no idea where the Indians have gone?' asked Biggles.

Dusky shook his head, saying that he did not know the district, but gave it as a matter of opinion that the Indian village would not be far away.

In that case we shall have to try to find it,' Biggles told him. Dusky agreed, but without enthusiasm.

They continued on down the trail, Dusky now leading the way and stopping from time to time to listen. This went on for an hour, by which time, although they did not know it, they were getting near the village.

The first intimation of this came when shouts and yells reached their ears, sounds which Dusky interpreted correctly, as the Indian way of making jubilation over the capture of the white men.

They now proceeded with more Caution, and were peering forward through the undergrowth hoping to catch sight of the village when a volley of shots sent them diving for cover. The shots, however, did not come their way, which puzzled Biggles more than a little. Dusky went up a tree like a squirrel, to return in a few moments with the unwelcome news that Bogat and his gang had attacked the Indians, scattered them, and taken over their prisoners. He also announced that there was another white man with Algy and Ginger.

Biggles wasted no time in futile guessing as to who this could be. He was too concerned about Algy and Ginger. He thought swiftly, undecided how to act.

'How many men has Bogat got with him?' he asked Dusky. Dusky opened and closed his hands, twice.

'Twenty, eh?' muttered Biggles.

To attack twenty men single-handed-for Dusky could hardly be counted on-would be, he saw, a rash undertaking. With the advantage of surprise in his favour he might shoot two or three of them, but in the ensuing battle, even if he escaped, Algy and Ginger would be certain to get hurt. He perceived, too, that if he failed in an attempt at rescue now, the odds against him in future would be worse, for once his presence was revealed strict guard would be kept. Taking all the factors into consideration, he decided that it would be better to wait for a more favourable opportunity. Perhaps a chance would come after dark.

At this point Dusky, who had again ascended a tree, returned to say that Bogat and his men, with their prisoners, were moving off through the forest. This at once upset Biggles'

s plans, for he had a.s.sumed that Bogat would remain in the village for a while. To attack him while he was on the march was obviously out of the question, so he took the only course that remained open, which was to allow Bogat's party to go on and follow as close behind as was reasonably safe.

He told Dusky his plan, and the old man agreed, so after waiting for a little while to give Bogat a start, they once more took up the trail.

Biggles of course had not the remotest idea of where they were going, nor even if they were travelling north or south, for the green jungle hemmed them in on both sides, and overhead. Nor, for a long time, did Dusky know; but eventually the trail crossed another which he recognised as one he had used when collecting chicle for the Tiger.

I reckon Bogat go to de Tiger's village,' he announced. 'But that's up in the mountains,'

Biggles pointed out. Dusky nodded. 'Sure. By-um-by we come to old ruins at bottom of steps. Maybe Bogat stop dere; maybe he go up steps to de king.'

'You're sure you know where we are?'

'Yes, I'se sure, ma.s.sa.'

'How far is it from here to the foot of the steps?'

'Half an hour's march-maybe a little more, or less.'

If we're as close as that, then there must be a risk of our running into some of Bogat's Indians, chicle-collectors, or labourers.'

'Tha's right, ma.s.sa.'

In that case we'd better stay here and do a bit of thinking. Let's find a place where we can hide until it gets dark.'

Dusky turned aside from the trail and soon found a sheltered retreat.

Here they remained until the light, always dim beneath the towering tree-tops, turned to the gloom of evening. They saw no one, and heard nothing except the natural sounds of the forest. Once, a panther, as black as midnight, slunk past with twitching tail; it saw them, and its baleful yellow eyes glowed, but it made no attempt to attack them, and Biggles was relieved to see it pa.s.s on.

Dusky s.h.i.+vered. 'Dat's de debbil,' he muttered nervously. 'Forget it, Dusky. Devil or no devil, I warrant that he'd find an expanding bullet from this rifle a nasty pill to take.' 'He put a spell on you, den you can't shoot.'

'He won't put any spell on me, I'll promise you,' returned Biggles lightly.

I reckon you don't believe in spells, ma.s.sa?'

'No, I don't,' answered Biggles shortly.

'Den you watch out dem big snakes dey call anaconda don't get you. Why, everyone knows dey bewitch folds.' Dusky s.h.i.+vered again.

I've heard that tale before, but I should have to see it before I believed it,' murmured Biggles cynically.

'Maybe if you stay in, de forest long enough, you see,' whispered Dusky knowingly.

Biggles did not pursue the subject, and nothing more was said for some time.

'You know, ma.s.sa,' said Dusky after a long silence, 'I reckon de gang don't work down here no longer. You remember I said about de gang working at de bottom of de steps?'

'What makes you think they've gone?'

'Cos I don't hear nothing. Dem boys would sure be hollerin 'Hollering? Why?'

'When Bogat's men crack dere whips on dere backs.'

I see. How can we make sure? Shall I go and have a scout round?'

Not you, ma.s.sa,' said Dusky quickly. 'I go. I don't make no noise. You stay right here. I find out what's going on.' 'You're sure you'll be able to find me again?'

'Sure, ma.s.sa. Dere's a wide stretch of savannah just ahead-I go dat way.'

All right,' Biggles agreed, somewhat reluctantly, and Dusky glided away, to be quickly lost in the shadows of the primeval forest.

An hour pa.s.sed, so Biggles judged, and he began to get worred, for it was now quite dark, and he was by no means certain-in spite of Dusky's a.s.surance-that the old man would be able to find him again.

As time went on and there was still no sign of him, Biggles became definitely concerned.

He stood up and whistled softly, but there was no reply. Something-he could not see what-slithered away in the undergrowth.

Staring in the direction which Dusky had taken Biggles became aware of an eerie blue glow, but taking a few paces forward, he soon solved the mystery. It was moonlight s.h.i.+mmering on a thin mist that had formed in an open glade, evidently the savannah to which Dusky had referred. He was about to turn back to the rendezvous, for he had no intention of leaving it, when a movement on the edge of the blue light caught his eye. It was, he saw from the shape of the object, a human being. Moving quickly but quietly to the edge of the clearing, he saw, as he hoped, that it was Dusky; but what the old man was doing he could not imagine. His movements were peculiar. With his arms held out in front of him, and his head thrown back, he was walking slowly across the savannah, step by step, towards the middle of it, in the uncertain manner of a person walking in his sleep.

As Biggles watched this strange scene he became aware of a queer musty smell that reminded him vaguely of something, but he could not remember what it was. At the same time he was a.s.sailed by a sensation of impending danger far stronger than anything he had ever before experienced. It was so acute that he could feel his nerves tingle, and presently beads of perspiration began to form on his forehead. This was something new to him, but his response was irritation rather than fear-perhaps because he could not see anything to cause alarm. Alert for the first sign of danger, walking softly, he moved forward on a line that would intercept Dusky somewhere about the middle of the savannah.

He could still see nothing to account for it, but as he advanced his sensations approached more nearly to real fear than he could ever recall. The only object that he could see, apart from the surrounding vegetation, was what appeared to be a black mound rising above the rough gra.s.s, and it was towards this that Dusky was stepping with slow, mechanical strides. A sudden suspicion darted into Biggles's brain, and he increased his pace, and even as he did so the mound moved. Something in the centre of it rose up sinuously, and remained poised. It was the head of a snake, but of such a size that Biggles's jaw dropped in sheer amazement.

For a moment he could only stare, thunderstruck, while the great flat head began to sway, slowly, with hideous grace, Then Biggles understood, and, with knowledge, power returned to his limbs.

'Dusky!' he shouted hoa.r.s.ely.

But he might have remained silent for all the notice the old man took.

'Dusky!' he shouted again. 'Stop!'