Biggles Hits The Trail

by W E Johns

  ‘Glass houses – how so?’

  ‘I forgot to tell you. Their houses are made of glass – yellow glass.’

  ‘What the dickens for? Must be a bit awkward sometimes.’

  ‘In the first place, the glass acts as an insulator; it’s got varnish with it; that’s what makes it yellow. In the second place, it keeps out the light at night, otherwise the Chungs would all go blind in time. That’s one of the effects of the light. The glass is as tough as steel, though, but if it snaps it flies to pieces. As a matter of fact, everything here is made of glass of one sort or another. You see, there’s no metal here except radium, but they can produce any quantity of glass quite simply by breaking down a small quantity of radium with rock. Granite, limestone, quartz, and so on, all produce a different kind of glass, which is used for its own particular purpose. I say glass, but it’s quite opaque – a kind of orange-yellow.’

  ‘But what’s our best plan of attack, do you think ?’ asked Biggles. ‘How about machine-gunning them?’

  ‘You might break a lot of glass, but you wouldn’t do the works much harm.’

  ‘What about boulders?’

  ‘It would take more than boulders to destroy all the works unless you happened to hit a vital spot each time, which doesn’t seem likely,’ replied Mac doubtfully. ‘If you haven’t got much petrol, when you do do something you want to make a right job.’

  ‘Naturally. It’s no use killing a Chung or two. We’ve got to smoke out the whole nest. The question is, how are we going to do it? Maybe I shall get an idea in the morning, when I’ve had a dekko at the place from up topsides. Hello, what now?’

  They all turned towards the door as Ginger, breathless and dishevelled, dashed in. ‘Say, Chief, something’s going on. These guys are trying to get the low-down on us.’

  ‘How many times have I told you to talk English?’ said Biggles shortly. ‘Where is it, and what’s happening?’

  ‘Over by the rock door. I thought I’d give the joint the once-over to see if there was anything doing. There’s a grinding noise inside. I think they’re trying to bore through the rock with a drill.’

  ‘The deuce they are!’ Biggles turned to McAllister. ‘Have these lads got any drills?’ he asked quickly.

  ‘Ay, that they have; I ought to have remembered that. They’ve got drills with radium-hardened points that will go through steel as if it were a piece of cheese.’

  ‘In that case it looks as if we’d better do something about it,’ replied Biggles. ‘You said something a little while ago about these fellows not understanding Western methods of fighting – guns, and that sort of thing.’

  ‘No, they don’t.’

  ‘Well, it’s time they did. We don’t understand their weapons and they don’t understand ours, so that evens things up a bit. Let’s see if we can show them something. See you presently, Mac. Come on, chaps. You put that Lewis gun back in the machine when you took off, didn’t you, Ginger?’ he asked.

  ‘Sure! I guessed we’d be needing it.’

  ‘You’re a good guesser; where is it?’

  ‘In the forward locker.’

  Biggles pulled out the weapon, clamped a drum of ammunition on it, gave a spare drum to each of the others, and led the way outside. ‘Don’t make a noise,’ he warned them. ‘I don’t suppose they can hear us, and we don’t want them to. Really, I don’t like this sort of thing, but in a case like this we can’t be choosers. Quietly now.’

  They approached the rock stealthily, and then paused to listen. From inside the cave came a deep vibrating hum, and a rasping sound that was obviously the point of a drill biting into the hard, limestone rock of which the door was composed. Biggles located the sound, and bending down, listened intently. They’re nearly through,’ he breathed, and moved the gun forward until the muzzle was in line with the spot.

  ‘I wonder what they’re going to do when they get a hole through,’ whispered Algy.

  ‘Whatever it is, it won’t be pleasant, you may be sure of that,’ Biggles told him tersely. ‘But we shall have something to say about it first, I hope.’

  The grinding of the drill suddenly became a whirring scream, and then, almost before they were ready for it, a glowing metallic point, followed by a metal shaft of about the circumference of a half-crown, burst through the rock. For a few seconds it twisted and turned, apparently in order to make the hole larger, and then it was withdrawn.

  As it disappeared from sight Biggles pushed the muzzle of the machine-gun through the hole and pulled the trigger. Taka-taka-taka-taka-taka chattered the gun, the reports booming like a cannon inside the cave. There was a grim smile on Biggles’s face as he twisted the barrel from left to right in the same way as the drill had been turned a moment before. Fifty rounds or so he pumped into the cavern, and then withdrawing the barrel with a quick movement, stooped to listen. But no sound came through the hole.

  ‘They’re not saying much, but I don’t think they could have liked it,’ he said quietly, straightening his back, but keeping the gun at the ready. ‘Stand clear of that hole everybody. You never know: anything might come out of it, from centipedes to blue sparks.’

  For twenty minutes or so they stood quite still, waiting for they knew not what, but not a sound of any sort came through the small aperture. ‘We seem to have discouraged them, at any rate,’ resumed Biggles. ‘All the same, we shall have to keep watch over this hole, which is a nuisance. I hate this cat-and-mouse game. I like to get a thing over and settled one way or the other. Who’ll take first watch? I want to go and have a word with the old man.’

  Ginger volunteered, so leaving him on guard, the others returned to the machine. They found Dickpa and Malty a trifle agitated about the shooting, so they had to explain what had happened.

  ‘It’s war to the knife now, then,’ murmured the Professor.

  ‘It always was, wasn’t it?’ replied Biggles harshly. ‘They started the rough stuff. All we wanted was to be friends and go home with a parcel of radium, which they could quite well have spared, anyway. Dash it, they’ve got a whole mountain of the stuff. It’s time we did a bit of attacking for a change; we’ve been on the defensive all the time so far, which isn’t right to my way of thinking.’ He went inside the cabin. ‘Hello, Mac, still alive, I see,’ he grinned.

  ‘Ay, I never felt better.’

  A hail came from outside.

  ‘That sounds like Ginger,’ muttered Biggles. ‘Now what’s the trouble, I wonder?’ He hurried to the door. ‘Yes, what is it?’ he called.

  ‘There’s a noise coming through the hole; I think it’s someone talking,’ yelled Ginger.

  ‘All right! Stand by; I’m coming,’ shouted Biggles. He turned to McAllister. ‘Are you well enough to walk, Mac?’ he asked.

  ‘Ay.’

  ‘You speak the lingo, don’t you? Will you come across and tell us what the Chungs are saying? Ginger thinks someone is talking through the hole – only thinks, mind you.’

  McAllister smiled. ‘No wonder he only thinks,’ he said, getting laboriously to his feet. ‘These people don’t talk, they chirp.’

  ‘Well, come and do a bit of chirping,’ invited Biggles. ‘Algy, come here a minute, and give us a hand.’

  Between them they managed to get McAllister to the rock door, where Ginger was standing with the gun in his hands and his eyes on the hole.

  ‘Now, Mac, ask them what it’s all about,’ suggested Biggles.

  As if in answer, a curious sound issued from the hole.

  Biggles stared. ‘Don’t tell me that’s a man talking,’ he gasped. ‘A fellow who could make a noise like that is capable of anything.’

  But McAllister was making a similar noise, and the others looked on in amused astonishment as what was undoubtedly a conversation took place.

  McAllister looked at Biggles. ‘They say that if we promise to go away at dawn, and never return, they won’t hurt us any more,’ he said.

  ‘What do they mean, hurt us any more? Tell t
hem they flatter themselves; they haven’t hurt us yet. Nothing doing.’

  Another conversation occurred, and again McAllister looked up. ‘Will you talk it over with Ho Ling Feng?’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘In his palace.’

  ‘No, sir. If Tingaling wants to talk to me, tell him to come and whisper through the keyhole. I don’t fancy my chance as centipede fodder.’

  McAllister spoke again. ‘They say that if we don’t go they’ll paralyse us, and throw us alive to the centipedes,’ he said.

  ‘Well, you tell ‘em to give the head lad my compliments and say that the first move he makes to give us the palsy we’ll come over and make his glass parlour look like a bottle merchant’s rubbish tip.’

  McAllister gave the message, after which there was silence. ‘They’ve gone,’ he said.

  ‘What else did they say?’

  ‘They only wondered how I was still alive, and told me it was a pity I didn’t die as I should have done, because they’re going to make us die verra, verra slowly.’

  ‘You mean that’s what they hope. They appear to have overlooked the little detail about catching us first,’ observed Biggles casually, as, leaving Malty to keep guard over the hole, they turned towards the machine. As they walked slowly back towards it Biggles suddenly pulled up with a frown wrinkling his forehead. ‘By the way, Mac, what sort of a range has this ray got?’ he asked.

  ‘Range?’

  ‘Yes; how far is it effective?’

  ‘To tell the truth I’m not sure,’ replied McAllister, ‘but I think it’s a fair distance. Why?’

  Biggles pointed to a peak that towered darkly far above them on the opposite side of the plateau. ‘That point is a lot higher than we are, which means that if these thugs can climb up it they’re likely to turn the spotlight on us from there, unless they’re bigger fools than I take them for. That hill can’t be more than a quarter of a mile away.’

  ‘Ay, that’s true,’ admitted McAllister slowly. ‘I never thought of that.’

  ‘I suppose the ray couldn’t actually hurt the machine?’

  ‘Couldn’t it though! At that range it could. It would cause any metal in your machine to crystallize,’ was McAllister’s alarming reply. ‘In an hour or two the metal wouldn’t be any tougher than a biscuit; you’d be able to crumble it up like one. Is there any metal in your machine?’

  Biggles stared at him horror-stricken. ‘Great goodness!’ he gasped. ‘Why, the machine’s all metal!’

  McAllister looked startled. ‘That’s awkward,’ he said uncomfortably.

  ‘Awkward! By the waxen sandals of Icarus, that’s putting it mildly. It will be more than awkward, believe me, if they turn the switch on. We’d better see about doing something before they do. An aircraft that you can crumble up like a biscuit isn’t my idea of a safe conveyance, not by a long chalk. Look! There you are! What did I tell you?’ He pointed to the mountain in question from which a dazzling blue beam had sprung. It fell on a point farther down the plateau, and began creeping slowly towards them.

  Biggles grabbed the rifle that was leaning against the hull. Give me a clip of cartridges, Dickpa,’ he said crisply.

  ‘It’s already loaded,’ the Professor told him. ‘What are you going to do?’

  ‘I’m going to try to douse the glim. It’s our only chance as far as I can see.’

  ‘You surely don’t think that you’ll be able to hit the operator, do you?’ asked Dickpa incredulously.

  ‘I don’t care what I hit as long as I put that light out,’ answered Biggles desperately. The fellow who’s working the thing must be at the far end of the beam.’

  ‘You’ll never hit him.’

  ‘Then I’ll make it dashed uncomfortable for him,’ swore Biggles. ‘Hey, Mac, what sort of an instrument discharges this ray?’

  ‘A thing like a big metal torch.’

  ‘Then let’s see if we can give it a crack. I’d use the machine-gun, but it eats up too much ammunition, and we’ve only a limited supply. I shall have to use it, though, if this fails.’

  The beam was perilously close as he walked quickly to the lip of the precipice, set the sights of the rifle at four hundred yards, threw himself flat, and snuggled the butt into his shoulder. He took careful aim and squeezed the trigger. There was a whip-like report; an orange flame, looking almost scarlet in the uncanny blue glow of the Mountain, leapt from the muzzle; but the light still blazed like an evil eye. Again he fired, but without arresting its progress. ‘Maybe it’s farther than I thought,’ he muttered, sliding the sight to the five hundred yards mark.

  Twice more he fired without effect, but at the third shot the light swerved wildly and blazed down into the gorge. His cry of triumph was cut short, however, as it recovered and crept up to the plateau again.

  ‘Do you think you hit him?’ asked Dickpa anxiously.

  ‘No, but I shook him,’ retorted Biggles bitterly.

  ‘Shake him some more,’ suggested Ginger.

  ‘That was my idea,’ Biggles told him grimly, as he took aim again. Five times he fired.

  At the fifth shot the light went out as if it had been switched off.

  ‘How’s that?’ he cried jubilantly.

  ‘Not out,’ answered Ginger promptly, as the light reappeared.

  ‘I’ll clip your ear for you, you impudent brat,’ snarled Biggles.

  ‘Well, you asked – didn’t he ?’ inquired Ginger, in a hurt tone.

  ‘Pass me that Lewis gun and don’t talk so much,’ ordered Biggles. ‘Ammunition or no ammunition, we’ve got to put that light out. We were fools to stay up here; we should have gone back to our first camp.’

  ‘’Twould have been the same thing,’ McAllister pointed out. ‘They could have got the ray on you anywhere on that plain.’

  ‘I suppose they could,’ admitted Biggles despondently.

  ‘In fact, the only safe place is in the air.’

  ‘That’s about it.’

  ‘Well, that’s out of the question. We haven’t enough petrol to cruise about indefinitely; we might as well go home as do that – better in fact. How are these things run – off a cable?’

  ‘No, they’re self-contained.’

  ‘So if we had one, we could turn it on them ?’

  ‘Ye could, but it wouldn’t do any good.’

  ‘Why not ?’

  ‘Because these fellows that handle them are varnished from head to foot, in case of accidents. That’s the rule. People were always getting hurt.’

  ‘In that case, they’re not invisible.’

  ‘Oh no.’

  ‘What we want is about a ton of varnish, enough to dope the machine all over,’ suggested Algy moodily.

  ‘And take a week doing it. A fat lot of good that would be. No, what we want is a howitzer, but as we haven’t got that either, why discuss it?’

  Biggles trained the machine-gun on the light and was about to pull the trigger when he started back with a cry of dismay as two more beams sprang out from the hillside. ‘That’s done it,’ he muttered. ‘We can’t wipe out a whole blinking battery of ‘em; we should use up all our ammunition inside ten minutes. How many of these confounded things have they got, Mac?’

  ‘Hundreds.’

  ‘Hundreds!’

  ‘Ay; those are the big ones they’re using. They’ve got thousands of little ones, pocket size, as you might say.’

  ‘Why, are the others very heavy?’

  ‘They weigh a hundredweight or so apiece. It must take the Chungs all their time to get them up there; they’re not very strong. That’s why they’ve been so long getting them into position. I know that place they’re on; it’s a ledge beside the path that goes over the top. It would be too steep anywhere else.’

  ‘Ledge ?’

  ‘Ay, there’s a fault in the rock there; I’ve seen it on the way up to the dam, which is just over the other side of the hill.’

  ‘What dam?’

  ‘The lake they get their
water from.’

  Biggles sprang up. ‘Did you say a lake?’ he cried.

  ‘Ay, but it isn’t a natural one. There’s a two-hundred-foot dam built up across the gorge, to keep the water stored.’

  ‘How big is it?’

  ‘Pretty well a mile long and a quarter of a mile wide.’

  ‘Great Scott! Why didn’t you tell us about this before?’

  ‘Why, what’s the lake got to do with it?’ asked McAllister in surprise.

  Biggles thought swiftly. ‘This path you mention — do I understand it leads right over that mountain to the dam?’

  ‘That’s so.’

  ‘Is it the only path?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And the mountain is steep — I mean, you couldn’t get up anywhere else?’

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘Then if we landed on the lake and held the path we should be safe?’

  ‘Yes, that’s right enough.’

  ‘Are you thinking of landing on the lake?’ asked Dickpa quickly.

  Biggles nodded to where the first ray was now playing on the aeroplane. Another joined it, while the third began creeping searchingly over the plateau. ‘We’ve got to do something, and quickly,’ he snapped. ‘Frankly, I’d hate to try to land on smooth water in this tricky light, but I’d try it if I thought it would do any good. But by the time we got to it they’d have the light on us again from the other side of the hill, and we should be just as badly off as we are here – that’s so, isn’t it, Mac?’

  ‘Ay, that’s so.’

  ‘We’ve one chance, then,’ said Biggles crisply. ‘Algy, get into that machine and taxi it about. You’ll have to play hide-and-seek with those rays until it’s light enough to fly without risking a crash. At the crack of dawn, take off and fly over to the lake. Ginger, get me that silk line, the one we brought in case we had to do any mountain climbing. There’s about three hundred feet of it. I nearly left it behind on account of the weight, but I’m glad I brought it now.’

  ‘What are you going to do?’ cried the Professor in alarm.

  ‘I’m going to put those lights out.’