by W E Johns
Biggles dashed on after the others. ‘We shall have to work round that chap,’ he said curtly. ‘Algy, come with me. We’ll go to the left. The others go to the right. We’ll get him from the flank.’
But before this manoeuvre could be made, a new factor arose, one that instantly made Biggles’s scheme impracticable. He realised why the guard, who had bolted down the steps, had returned. He had not come back alone. At the top of Jacob’s Ladder now appeared Bogat, and behind him nearly a score of armed men.
They took in the situation at a glance, and spreading out, taking cover behind rocks, effectually blocked the steps.
Biggles perceived that Bogat and his gang must have been actually coming up the steps all the time. It was unfortunate, but it couldn’t be prevented. In any case, he was not to know it. It was one of those unexpected mischances that can upset the best-laid plan. To advance in the face of a score of rifles was obviously a hopeless proposition; nor could they remain where they were. In the circumstances he gave the only reasonable order, which was to retire.
‘Get back to the village!’ he shouted. ‘We’ll find cover in one of the buildings while we think things over. Keep together. Don’t waste ammunition. Run for it.’
Dodging among the boulders, for shots were now whistling, they made a quick but orderly retirement to the buildings. It was fortunate that they had not far to go. Biggles selected a group of stone houses near the spot where, a few minutes before, they had been working.
‘This will do,’ he decided, and dived through the doorway to temporary safety. The others followed him.
‘Anyone hurt?’ he inquired.
Eddie had been slightly wounded in the forearm, that was all; he made light of it, and tore a strip off his shirt for a bandage.
‘Sorry, chaps,’ said Biggles apologetically. ‘The show came unstuck. Bad luck we chose the moment that Bogat and his toughs were coming up the steps. Not being able to see through solid rock, I wasn’t to know that. Still, I think we ought to be able to hold them off this place for some time—at any rate, long enough to enable us to work out a new plan. Keep watch through the windows, but don’t show yourselves. Phew! Isn’t it hot.’
Eddie drew his sleeve across his forehead. ‘You’re telling me.’
13
STRANGE EVENTS
FOR some time they kept careful watch, but saw nothing of the Tiger or his associates. Sounds told them that the labourers had been herded back into their pen.
‘What’s going on, I wonder?’ muttered Ginger at last.
Biggles answered. ‘I should say that the Tiger, knowing we are on the plateau, has posted a strong guard at the head of the stairway. We are, he supposes, in a trap, and he has only to close the mouth of it to keep us in. Why should he hurry? He knows that we can’t stay here indefinitely without food and water. No doubt he’s watching the place from a distance. Then again, he may not be sure which house we are actually in, and doesn’t feel like taking the risk of being shot in order to find out.’
‘Did you come up the stairway?’ asked Ginger.
‘Not exactly,’ returned Biggles. ‘I came nearly to the top, but seeing a fellow on guard, made a detour and came in over the escarpment behind the village—at the back of those prickly pears.’
‘Couldn’t we get out that way?’
Biggles thought for a moment. ‘Possibly. We could, of course, if no guards were posted, but I can’t think that the Tiger would be such a fool as to shut the front door and forget to lock the back door—so to speak. The way I came must have been the way the Indians came when they chased us up the steps after we had escaped from the black panther. One thing is certain: it would be silly to try to get out of here in broad daylight. We’ll wait for dark.’
It seemed a long wait—as indeed it was. Silence settled over the plateau. The sun struck down with bars of white heat. The only sound was the languid buzz of insects.
The shadows were lengthening when Ginger suddenly recalled the pivoting flagstone; he could see it from where he stood on guard at a window, not a score of paces away. In the rush of events following Biggles’s arrival he had forgotten all about it.
‘Here, Biggles,’ he said, ‘I’ve just remembered something.’ In a few words he told the others of his curious discovery. ‘Sounds interesting,’ was Biggles’s comment.
‘You mean, the treasure might be in there?’ put in Eddie. Biggles had by this time learned who Eddie was, and how he came to be with the party.
‘It might be, but, to tell the truth, I wasn’t thinking about that,’ answered Biggles. ‘It would be useful, of course, to locate the treasure, although I don’t think we’re in a position to clutter ourselves up with it at the moment. Our job is to get out. What I was thinking was that under Ginger’s slab there might be a tunnel leading to another part of the plateau. At any rate, if there is a cave or something there it ought to be worth exploring.’
‘Now?’ queried Ginger.
‘No. We’ll wait till it gets properly dark.’
‘There’s no need for us all to go,’ remarked Ginger. ‘I know just where the thing is. I could explore, and then come back and let you know what’s inside—if there is an inside.’
‘That’s a good idea,’ agreed Biggles. And so it was decided.
Night came. The moon had not yet risen, but the sky was clear, and the stars gave as much light as was necessary for the reconnaissance.
‘I’m afraid it’s going to be a bit difficult, if there is a cave, or something, to get an idea of it without a light,’ Ginger pointed out. ‘I’ve no matches. All our things were taken away from us.’
‘I’ve got some,’ Biggles told him, remembering those which, with his cigarettes, he had put in his pocket. ‘Take them, but go easy with them, and don’t strike any in the open.’
Ginger took the box, and slipping through an opening that had once been a window, crept stealthily along a wall towards his objective, while the others covered his advance with their rifles. Hearing nothing, seeing no sign of life, pausing sometimes to listen, Ginger kept close against the wall until he reached the trench, which gave him all the cover he needed for the rest of his journey to the stone. Actually, there were several paving-stones, and in spite of his confidence, in the deceptive half-light he was some minutes finding the right one. It was an exciting moment when he felt it give under his weight, for, of course, he had not the remotest idea of what was underneath.
The stone moved slowly but easily; when the pressure was removed it swung back into place, and for this reason he was in some doubt as to how to proceed. He didn’t like the idea of descending into the unknown without being quite certain that he would be able to get back. A closer examination revealed that the stone turned on a central pivot; for a primitive contrivance it was a beautiful piece of precision work, but before entering the void Ginger made sure of his exit by the simple expedient of fixing a loose piece of stone so that the slab could not entirely close. Then, rather breathless, he groped inside with his hands. He was not surprised when they encountered a step, also of stone.
If there was one, he reasoned, there should be more. And in this he was correct; but it was not until he was well inside that he risked lighting a match. He held his breath while it flared up, for he had no idea of what lay before him. He was prepared for anything.
Actually, the result of his first survey, while the match lasted, was rather disappointing. As far as he could see, a flight of well-cut steps led down, perfectly straight, to a room, a chamber so large that he could not see the extremities of it. There was no furniture. The walls appeared to be bare. He went on to the bottom of the steps and lit another match.
In its light everything was exposed to view, and it merely confirmed his first impression. He was in a large oblong room, the walls, floor and ceiling of which were of grey stone. At one end, the end farthest from the entrance, three broad, shallow steps led up to a dais, in the manner of an altar, on which squatted a hideous idol. It appeared to ha
ve been carved out of the living rock. Ginger went over to it, and by the light of the third match looked at it again. The image leered down at him, and he felt suddenly cold. For how many hundreds of years, perhaps thousands, it had been there, leering in the darkness, he did not know, but the effect of extreme antiquity affected him strangely. He struck yet another match, but there was nothing more to be seen. There was no door or passage leading to another room. If the treasure was in here, he thought, then they had been forestalled. It was certainly not there now, although it seemed likely that it had been there as late as 1937, or the explorer Roberts would not have carved his initials on the column.
It was a disappointing anti-climax, and feeling rather gloomy about the whole business, Ginger groped his way back up to the exit, from where, with due precautions, he returned to the house and told the others the result of his investigation.
‘There’s something funny about this,’ declared Biggles quietly. ‘Unless he was a first-class liar, Carmichael saw the treasure. So apparently did Roberts. Where has it gone? It seems very unlikely that anyone could have been on the plateau recently without the Tiger knowing about it, unless the explorers came as we did, by air, for they would have to come up Jacob’s Ladder. Obviously, the Tiger didn’t find the treasure, or he wouldn’t be looking for it now—at least, I assume he’s looking for it. I can’t think what else he’d be looking for.’
‘Just a minute,’ put in Eddie. ‘There was some writing in the corner of the map. I imagine Roberts wrote it.’
‘What happened to this man Roberts?’ asked Biggles curiously. ‘Why did he dispose of the map? Why didn’t he take the treasure?’
‘His Indian porters deserted him. In fact, they tried to poison him.’
‘So he couldn’t carry the stuff?’
‘That’s right. It took him all his time to get back.’
‘But why didn’t he return afterwards?’
‘He died.’
‘How did these crooked partners of yours get hold of the map?’
‘They bought it off Roberts’ widow—so they said.’
‘And this writing you just mentioned?’
‘It was a list of instructions. I can’t remember the words exactly, but there was something about a hinged stone-presumably the one Ginger discovered.’
‘Roberts definitely saw the treasure—with his own eyes?’
‘Oh yes. He brought a gold cup home with him.’
‘Did you see it?’
‘No. His widow sold it after he died.’
Biggles was silent for a moment. ‘I should like to have a look at this place,’ he announced.
‘So should I,’ said Eddie.
‘Then let’s all go,’ suggested Biggles. ‘We shall be no worse off there than we are here—in fact, it might turn out to be a better hiding-place. If we could get hold of some food and water we could lie low there for week if necessary, in which case the Tiger might think we had in some way got off the plateau. Let’s go. We can always come back if we don’t like it. No noise. We’ll go across one at a time. If we bump into trouble, rally here. Ginger, you know the way, so you’d better go first.’
Ginger, employing the same tactics as before, returned to the underground chamber. The others followed in turn, Biggles bringing up the rear. Everything remained quiet—from Biggles’s point of view, suspiciously quiet. In spite of what he had said about the Tiger holding them in a trap by simply putting a guard on the stairway, he thought it was odd that no attempt had been made to dislodge them from the block of buildings in which they had sought refuge. Still, he did not overlook the fact that four desperate white men, armed with rifles, made a formidable force to capture or shoot down by sheer frontal attack.
Before going down through the trap-door Biggles made a short excursion to collect some tufts of dried grass; then, after a final survey of the scene, he followed the others into the chamber and allowed the slab to sink slowly into place. As soon as he was inside he twisted the dried grass into a wisp—it could hardly be called a torch—and taking the matches from Ginger, set light to it. The grass blazed up brightly so that everything could be seen. Not that there was much to see.
Nobody spoke while the fire was alight. Biggles still had a little more grass, but as there seemed to be no point in burning it, he held it in reserve.
‘Well, that’s that,’ he murmured, sitting on the bottom step. ‘Did anyone notice anything interesting, or worth exploring?’
The others admitted that they had seen nothing worth mentioning.
‘This is a funny business,’ resumed Biggles. ‘I still don’t understand what became of the treasure.’
‘I wish I had the map,’ remarked Eddie. ‘There may have been something on it that I have forgotten. If there was, and the Tiger ever finds this place, he’ll know just what to do.’
‘Well, there doesn’t seem to be much we can do,’ returned Biggles.
Ginger started groping his way round the walls, knocking on the stones with his knuckles. ‘They sound solid enough,’ he observed.
‘`Lumps of stone, weighing half a ton apiece, would sound solid, even it there was a cavity behind,’ Biggles pointed out.
‘What are we going to do?’ asked Algy. ‘I can’t see any point in staying here.’
‘There’s not much point in going back to the house, if it comes to that,’ answered Biggles.
‘I don’t want to be depressing, but I don’t think we’re in any shape to stay either here or in the house for more than another day. We might manage without food for a bit, but we can’t do without water. I’m afraid that sooner or later we’ve got to risk breaking through the cordon, either by rushing the steps, or trying to get out over the rocks, the way I came in. I’ll tell you what. I’ll go and have a scout round.’
‘That sounds pretty dangerous to me,’ muttered Eddie dubiously.
Biggles laughed mirthlessly. ‘Whatever we do is likely to be dangerous. I’ll go and make sure that the escarpment is guarded. Either way, I’ll come back. If it isn’t guarded we’ll try to slip out.’
‘Why not all go?’ suggested Ginger.
‘Because four people are more likely to be seen than one, and the chances of making a noise become multiplied by four. No, this is a one-man job. I don’t suppose I shall be very long. Here, Algy, you take the matches; you may need them.’
Biggles groped his way up the steps. There was a faint gleam of star-spangled sky as he went through the exit; then it was blotted out as the stone sank into place. Silence fell.
For a long time nobody spoke in the chamber. There seemed to be nothing to say—or it may have been that they were all listening intently for the first sign of Biggles’s return. In such conditions it is practically impossible to judge time correctly, but when Biggles had been gone for what Ginger thought must be nearly an hour, he commented on it.
‘He’s a long time,’ he said anxiously, almost irritably.
‘I was thinking the same thing,’ admitted Algy. ‘If—’
Whatever he was going to say remained unsaid, for at that moment the silence was shattered by a deafening explosion. The chamber shuddered to the force of it. A moment later came the crash and spatter of debris raining down on the roof. It sounded like a roll of distant thunder.
Ginger flung himself flat, feeling sure that the whole place was about to collapse. This was purely instinctive, for he was beyond lucid thought. So were the others. The explosion would have been bad enough had it been expected, but coming as it did without warning, it was shattering. It took Ginger several seconds to convince himself that he had not been hurt. He was the first to speak.
‘Are you fellows all right?’ he asked in a strained voice.
The others answered that they were.
‘What on earth was that?’ continued Ginger.
‘I don’t know, but I’m going to find out,’ replied Algy, groping his way up the steps.
Some time passed, but he did not speak again, although the ot
hers could hear him making strange noises. He seemed to be grunting with exertion.
‘What’s wrong?’ asked Eddie.
‘Plenty,’ came Algy’s voice in the darkness. ‘Either some rocks have fallen on the slab or else the explosion has jammed it. It won’t move.’
‘You mean—we’re shut in?’ demanded Ginger.
‘That’s just what I do mean,’ answered Algy, rather unsteadily.
Ginger squatted down on the stone floor. ‘Not so good,’ he remarked.
‘What are you grumbling about? You wanted adventure,’ Algy pointed out coldly. ‘Now you’re getting it. I hope you’re enjoying it—but I’m dashed if I am.’
14
BIGGLES MAKES A CAPTURE
THE first thing Biggles noticed when he left the underground chamber was that the moon was rising over the edge of the plateau. He had no time to weigh up the advantages and disadvantages of this, for as, lying flat, he began to worm his way towards the trench, he distinctly saw a dark shadow flit silently away from the side of the house which they had recently evacuated. An instant later a low mutter of voices reached his ears, but precisely where the sound came from he could not determine. The conversation was soon followed by the sound of retreating footsteps. That something was going on seemed certain, but there was no indication of what it was. Fearing that he may have been seen, he lay still for a little while, trusting to his ears to advise him of danger; but when nothing happened he felt that it was time he continued his reconnaissance.
With eyes and ears alert for danger, he reached the nearest house, and taking advantage of the deepest shadows, went on towards the ridge of rock which he could see silhouetted against the sky beyond the village. He reached the outlying boulders without incident, and there paused to survey the skyline for any movement that would reveal the position of sentries. His vigilance was rewarded when he saw the glow of a lighted cigarette. It was stationary. This at once fixed the position of at least one sentry, and Biggles was about to move forward on a course that would avoid him when a faint smell, borne on a slant of air, reached his nostrils and brought him to an abrupt halt. It was vaguely familiar, but it took him a second or two to identify it as the reek of smouldering saltpetre. Instantly realising the significance of it, he half rose up and looked behind him; hoped to discover the source of it. The next moment a column of flame shot into the air; simultaneously came the roar of an explosion, the blast of which flung him headlong. Knowing what to expect, he lay still with his hands over his head while clods of earth and pieces of rock rattled down around him and the acrid tang of dynamite filled the air.
