Biggles Hits The Trail

by W E Johns

‘What! Do you mean you’re going to attack them on foot?’

  ‘There’s no alternative. Obviously, we can’t stay here, and we can’t cruise about because we haven’t enough petrol, so we’ve got to put the machine where they can’t get at it, and the only place within a hundred miles or so – according to Mac, and he should know – is on the lake.’

  ‘But it’s madness.’

  ‘Don’t let’s argue,’ returned Biggles briefly. ‘Get this clear. I’m going to knock those thugs off that ridge. Then I shall hold the path till morning. As soon as it’s light Algy will bring the machine over to the lake and we’ll make contact. We shall have to go on holding the path, of course. Now I want you to lower me into the gorge and then send down the machine-gun. I’ve got a good chance, because that’s the last thing they’ll expect. Where does the path start from, Mac?’

  ‘You know where the gorge begins, on the far side of the crater, near the cave by which you came up to me this morning?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘About a quarter of a mile along there’s a break on the left-hand side. That’s it. Don’t go past it or you’ll find yourself in the town. Be careful; the path’s narrow in places, and if you slip you’ll fall a thousand feet before you hit the bottom. The ledge is about three-quarters of the way up, on the left. Don’t forget to varnish your feet and hands before you go, else if they turn the current on, you’ll be fixed, like you were this morning.’

  ‘I’m glad you thought of that,’ nodded Biggles. ‘Have you got that line, Ginger? That’s it. Now fetch me the bottle of varnish. Hi! where do you think you’re going?’ he added quickly, as Ginger began smearing the varnish over the soles of his boots.

  ‘I thought I might come with you. Two are better than one, because if one gets hurt, the other can help him, or carry on. Algy’s got to stay here to fly the machine, and if you go alone and get hurt, we’re all sunk.’

  ‘There’s something in that,’ admitted Biggles, ‘but it’s no job for a kid.’

  Ginger frowned and made a pass with his hand. ‘Aw, cut out the kid stuff, Chief,’ he complained. ‘I’m the cat’s whiskers on a racket like this, you know that.’

  ‘Come on, then, let’s go. Algy, I’m leaving you in charge. I’m afraid you’ll be tired before daylight, but it can’t be helped. It’s funny, but I don’t feel in the least tired.’

  ‘You won’t, not up here,’ Mac told him. ‘You can go without sleep for weeks at a time; it’s something to do with the mountain.’

  ‘Then at least we’ve got something to be thankful for. From what I can see of it, we’re not going to have much time for shut-eye. Come on, all hands on the line.’

  Biggles went down first, dangling like a spider on a web, pushing himself clear from the face of the cliff with hands and feet. It was an unnerving experience, and he breathed a sigh of relief as his feet touched the bottom. Ginger followed, after which the machine-gun and the twelve-bore were lowered. Then the line was drawn up again. Side by side the two airmen stood in the inky shadow of the gorge, listening, but all was quiet.

  ‘Come on,’ said Biggles softly. ‘This way.’

  CHAPTER 9

  A GRIM JOURNEY

  THEY crept along the foot of the cliff in single file until they neared the point where the gorge cut through the rock, and the cave of the centipedes yawned menacingly.

  ‘Keep your eyes skinned now: they’re about,’ breathed Biggles, as a faint monkey-like chatter came from the cave.

  They dared not risk passing it closely, so they made a short detour into the crater, but always keeping in the shadow of the cliff, and with a watchful eye on the cave. Deep in its mysterious interior was a pale ethereal glow in which shadows flickered eerily. They passed on, however, and plunged into the gorge on the other side. Far above them the blue beams, now four in number, cut glowing fingers of light through the air, like neon street signs seen through a fog.

  The sudden roar of the Explorer’s engines made them jump, but then, remembering the reason, they smiled at each other. ‘That’s Algy starting his merry-go-round on the plateau,’ whispered Biggles. ‘Ssh! I believe someone is coming.’ From some little distance up the gorge came the crunch of pebbles as they were trodden underfoot by swiftly striding steps.

  The airmen crept behind a buttress of rock and waited, hardly daring to breathe. Nearer and nearer came the footsteps. Biggles set the Lewis gun against the side of the cliff and picked up a loose piece of rock. ‘There must be no noise,’ he muttered. Then, suddenly, the footsteps were right on top of them, and a dark figure loomed in sight. They had a fleeting glimpse of a flowing robe, a pale face with pronounced, slanting eyes and high cheekbones, and then the man had passed swiftly on, looking neither to right nor to left in his haste. Biggles waited until he had disappeared round the bend and then squeezed Ginger’s arm. Together they set off again, stopping every few yards to listen.

  Neither of them ever forgot that walk in the deep, sombre canyon, with the silent but potent rays above, and every shadow a menace.

  ‘We must be getting near the path,’ whispered Biggles, as he peeped round a bend, and then sprang back with an exclamation he could not stifle.

  Ginger, who was close behind, caught sight of a monstrous figure that barred their path; the body was in shadow, but high above the light of the mountain reflected dully on a broad, bestial face that gazed down the gorge with a fixed, unchanging leer.

  Biggles moistened his lips and passed his hand over his forehead. ‘Gosh! that gave me a fright,’ he said quietly. ‘Mac should have warned us about that.’

  ‘What is it?’ asked Ginger tremulously.

  ‘It’s a statue, or an idol, by the look of it,’ replied Biggles. ‘Thank goodness it isn’t human.’

  They passed the foot of the monster hurriedly, for there was something terrifying in its sphinx-like stillness, and came upon the path almost at once. For a moment or two they looked at it doubtfully, for it was no more than a narrow crack in the rock as if the very mountain had been split by a mighty upheaval of the earth. The path was, in fact, a fissure in the rock, about three feet wide at the entrance, although what lay inside they could not tell, for it was as black as pitch.

  ‘Looks like the original dragon’s lair,’ grumbled Biggles, as he took a tentative step forward, feeling his way carefully with the muzzle of the gun.

  For a distance of fifty yards or so they crept on, step by step, keeping their balance only by groping along the wall and watching the pale slit of starry sky above, and then they came to a hairpin bend. ‘Thank goodness the path broadens a little farther on,’ Biggles whispered, as he saw a large patch of sky some distance ahead.

  ‘If we meet anybody here there’ll be no hiding,’ breathed Ginger; ‘we couldn’t pass without touching.’

  ‘In that case it will be up to us to touch them first – with a brick,’ Biggles told him grimly. ‘We mustn’t start shooting down here and alarm the people up top if we can possibly prevent it.’ He reached the starlit area and paused, peering in uncertainly to left and right, for the rock walls had terminated abruptly, although there seemed to be a dark shadow on the right. Puzzled, he picked up a pebble and tossed it, and then held his breath as no answering sound came. Several seconds later a distant rattle echoed far, far below. ‘My word! what a hole,’ he gasped. ‘We shall have to be careful; I nearly walked into it. Can you see the path?’

  ‘That’s it, straight ahead, isn’t it?’ said Ginger softly. ‘It looks to me like a narrow bridge with a sheer drop on either side.’

  ‘I believe you’re right,’ answered Biggles quietly. ‘I don’t think much of this.’

  They moved slowly forward again, testing their weight at each step before taking the next, and emerged on to a bridge of such breath-taking horror that Biggles, accustomed to looking down from great altitudes, hung back and broke into a perspiration. It was not more than eighteen inches wide, with no parapet; on either side stretched an inky void.

 
; Whether the bridge was artificial, or a natural razor-backed ridge, they could not see; nor did they delay to find out, but crawled across it with more haste than elegance. On the far side, on the right, the rock rose sheer again, but the precipice remained on the left, and the path became nothing more than a narrow cornice cut in the side of the living rock. In places the wall overhung them, so that they appeared to be walking through a tunnel from which one side had been removed.

  Ginger glanced back over his shoulder, and touched Biggles lightly on the arm. ‘Look!’ he said softly.

  Biggles turned. So close as to appear within hailing distance was the plateau; even as they looked they saw the Explorer pass swiftly through one of the rays as Algy taxied to and fro in an effort to avoid them. ‘I hope he doesn’t make a mistake in the dark and go over the cliff,’ he muttered with a worried frown. ‘Let’s go on.’

  They continued on their way, and the next bend brought them to within sight of their objective, although as yet they could see nothing except the point from which the rays sprang. They were moving on again when suddenly there came a faint chink of metal striking against rock a little way in front. Biggles pulled up dead, peering up the path. ‘There’s somebody just in front of us,’ he breathed. Looks like two or three men carrying a pole. They must be Chungs taking up another ray-thrower – or whatever they call the thing – but I can’t see very clearly. This confounded light is deceiving. There is this about it, though: if the people on top see us coming, maybe they’ll take us for another crew of ray experts. Never mind – let’s keep going.’

  Another fifty paces and the general outline of the place became clear. The path wound upwards to the summit which, bathed in the glow of the mountain, still towered above them. Some little distance below it a fairly wide ledge, such as McAllister. had described, formed a flat shelf in the side of the rock. On it a large number of men were clustered, in groups, and from the centres of the groups sprang the destroying rays. Another point of interest was the fact that the actual summit commanded the shelf. Below and behind them lay the plateau on which the amphibian still pursued her earth-bound course.

  But for the imminent destruction of the machine, Biggles would have preferred to have gone straight to the summit and held the pass simply in order to prevent the enemy from overlooking the lake, but the immediate peril demanded more urgent action. ‘I’m afraid it’s going to be war, Ginger,’ he said quietly. ‘I can’t warn the blighters to clear out because I don’t know the lingo, but we’ll give them a chance. If they try any funny stuff, though, they’ll go down the hill faster than they came up. When we reach that next rock there’ll be no more cover, but we shall be within fifty yards of them. We must keep going until we get on the top side of them, so that whatever happens we can make the summit. If they spot us, and attempt to get a beam on us, let drive with both barrels and make a dash for the path beyond the ledge; then reload and shoot again if necessary. If they don’t spot us, hold your fire and leave it to me.’

  But to hope to escape detection in the bright light of the mountain was hoping too much, as events showed. They had, it is true, almost reached the spot where the ledge branched off from the path, when a shrill cry of alarm, quickly followed by others, rang out from the clustered groups. Simultaneously the nearest ray swung round in a flashing arc towards them.

  ‘Come on,’ yelled Biggles, throwing aside any further attempt at concealment, and suiting the action to the words, he dashed up the path with Ginger hard on his heels.

  That they would reach and pass the turning before the figures on the ledge could intercept them was almost certain, but they had reckoned without the small party of Chungs who had immediately preceded them up the path.

  Biggles had, in fact, forgotten them, being under the impression that they had joined the main party, whereas they were actually resting in the shadow of a mass of rock that marked the junction of the path and the ledge. His first intimation of their presence was a miniature ray that stabbed through the darkness towards him; it struck him on the knee with the dull force of a mallet blow, and nearly brought him down. He stumbled under the shock, and the heavy gun flew out of his hands. A second ray leapt towards him and he twisted like an eel to avoid it. At the same instant he was almost deafened by the roar of Ginger’s gun almost in his ear.

  Ginger, to whom the whole thing had been apparent, realizing the desperateness of the situation, had fired over Biggles’s shoulder, and that some of the shot had found its mark was instantly apparent. One of the two rays went out and the other fell to the ground, where it flickered harmlessly on the rock.

  The whole thing had only occupied perhaps three seconds, and by the time the two small rays had been put out of action Biggles had recovered his balance and snatched up his gun; but as he did so two Chungs loomed darkly on the path and were on him before he could find the trigger. Instinctively using the muzzle of the gun as a bayonet, he lunged at the first, caught him in the pit of the stomach and sent him hurtling into space; but the second clutched the barrel and clung to it desperately. For a moment it looked as if Biggles would have to release his grip on the gun or go over the cliff with it, for the Chung threw all his weight on it, and having the advantage of the rising ground, forced him backwards towards the chasm.

  Ginger was momentarily helpless, for being behind Biggles on the narrow path, he dare not shoot for fear of hitting him; but finally, seeing that only desperate measures could save them, he flung himself flat and fired upwards through Biggles’s legs. Instantly the strain on the gun relaxed as the Chung collapsed, and in the suddenness of the relief, Biggles nearly fell the other way. ‘Good work,’ he panted as he recovered, and threw a swift glance at the ledge. To his horror he saw that the whole crowd of Chungs were pouring along it towards the junction, which they had almost reached. They appeared to be figures of fire, for one of the big rays was now blazing straight along the ledge towards the path. ‘We’ve got to get above them or we’re lost,’ was the thought that flashed into his mind, and without waiting to see what Ginger was doing, he dashed forward. Ten yards from the junction he saw that the Chungs would reach it first, so he played his trump card. Sinking down on to his knee and resting the barrel of the gun on a convenient rock, he pulled the trigger and raked the ledge with a stream of lead.

  The result was instantaneous. All the rays went out except one, which disappeared over the cliff, to reappear a moment later, a whirling beam of light that flashed alternately on earth and sky as it turned slowly over and over on its long plunge to oblivion. Several of the Chungs fell, and the foremost started back in a frantic attempt to get out of the hail of bullets.

  This gave Biggles the brief respite he needed. ‘Come on,’ he yelled, as he leapt to his feet and raced past the critical point. He was round in a flash, looking anxiously for Ginger, and was relieved to see him following, but still some distance down the path. ‘Quick,’ he yelled as he saw the Chungs coming on again, but he stopped them with another burst of fire.

  ‘That guy — wasn’t dead. Got me by the foot,’ panted Ginger, as he ran up.

  ‘Reload, but don’t fire except at rays unless I give the word,’ snapped Biggles. ‘Shoot at rays on sight. We seem to have got ‘em rattled,’ he went on, covering the Chungs who were now milling about in the wildest disorder. ‘They daren’t pass us, and they can’t go the other way because the place is a cul-de-sac. We’ve got ‘em cold, but it’s no use wasting ammunition if they’re beaten. Let’s move a bit higher up and give them a chance to get out.’ They ran a few yards farther along the path and took up a fresh position.

  The Chungs evidently saw them go, for as if seized by a common impulse, they poured along the ledge towards the path.

  ‘All right, let ‘em go; don’t shoot,’ cried Biggles as Ginger fidgeted with his gun. ‘They’re running – not attacking.’

  The rout became a stampede. Like a herd of animals the Chungs swept past the airmen and raced down the path, pushing each other over the pre
cipice in their blind panic.

  Biggles fired a few rounds over their heads to speed them on their way, and then, satisfied that the ledge had been evacuated, he turned and hurried on towards the summit. ‘These are the people who are going to rule the world,’ he muttered, as they ran on. ‘If they do, it won’t be by courage, but by a weapon which Nature has placed in their hands. Here! what the dickens are you doing?’ he exclaimed, as there was a flash and a report, and a green signal light zoomed upwards into the sky.

  ‘Algy gave me the Very pistol just as I was going, and asked me to fire a green light if we managed to get to the top. He was a bit worried about us. He knows now that we are all right. There you are,’ he continued, as the drone of the Explorer’s engines died away, and the vibrant hum to which they had become accustomed was replaced by a deathly silence.

  A few more steps and they were on the summit, with what appeared to be the whole world at their feet. The scene was so indescribably beautiful that even Biggles held his breath.

  On their right the Mountain of Light pointed a glowing finger of blue fire towards the starlit heavens, its uncanny radiance reflecting on a hundred peaks that stretched away, one behind the other, until they were lost in the vague horizon. Before them lay the lake, a vast, motionless pool of liquid fire, around which, at intervals, the pinnacle-like peaks stood like grim sentinels. It was as motionless as a sheet of ice, and looked as cold. On the other side lay the open plain, a sombre shadow that reached to the infinite distance, while below, surrounded by the yawning gorge, was the shadowy outline of the plateau.

  Silence hung over everything; not the silence of civilized countries, but a deep, breath-taking silence, a complete absence of sound that worried the eardrums. Of it was born an atmosphere of unutterable loneliness, and Biggles shivered suddenly. ‘I’m glad you came, laddie,’ he admitted. This is no sort of place to be alone. Makes one feel kind of —small. My word! isn’t it perishing cold! I’d feel like lighting a fire if there was anything to burn. Never mind; we’re here, that’s the main thing. Let’s get the gun fixed to command the path. Thank goodness it must be nearly morning.’