One by one the soldiers reassembled in front of the guest-house. Algy, of course, hoped that they would now depart. Indeed, he felt quite sure that they would, for as far as he could see they had no reason to stay. In this he was wrong, as with mounting alarm he was soon to learn.
The troops threw their carbines on the ground and sitting down beside them lit cigarettes. Ma C blew a series of short blasts on his whistle.
So there were still more of them, thought Algy, who guessed what the signal meant. Surely they were not going to there? It began to look like it. He could have groaned with disappointment.
Two more soldiers now arrived on the scene leading loaded pack-horses.
Their loads were taken off, some of the soldiers getting up and helping with what seemed unnecessary care for men who were notoriously careless.
Several wooden boxes were placed gently on the long dry grass. The pack-horses were then led away.
Algy watched this strange performance with growing wonder. What were they going to do? What was in the boxes? Why did they handle them as if they contained eggs? He noticed on the boxes some writing, in Chinese script, which of course he could not read. He went in and fetched Ritzen, giving him an idea of what was going on.
The Swede returned with him to the entrance, and lying flat, studied the boxes. "They contain dynamite," he announced. "At least, some of them do.
Dynamite and detonators."
"Dynamite!" Algy's eyes went round and his body went limp when he realised what this implied.
Ritzen was still staring down. "Those round things are coils of fuse wire," he observed.
"For heaven's sake! This is frightful," breathed Algy.
"I imagine they're going to blow up the guest-house to prevent it from being used by the Kirghiz or anybody else," observed the Swede.
"You realise what might happen if they did that?" returned Algy. "An explosion of any size might cause some of the caves to collapse."
"I agree. I wouldn't care to stay in them."
An even more horrid thought occurred to Algy. "They might be going to blow up the caves as well, while they're at it. I know how orientals behave if they get their hands on explosives. They blow up everything reach. They adore fireworks—anything that will make a bang. They're quite likely to blow themselves up, but that wouldn't help us."
"What d'you suggest we do about it?" asked Ritzen.
"You're in charge. It's for you to decide."
"I think we must try to get out of the caves for a start."
Ritzen agreed.
"But we can't go and sit in the open desert" went on Algy. "Apart from anything else we should be fried by the sun when it gets up."
Again Ritzen agreed.
Algy thought for a moment. "The only place I know where there is any shade is in that crypt under the tower. It seems to be our only hope."
"Yes, I think so."
"Very well," went on Algy. "You get everybody along, through the caves to the end of the cliff. Take as much food as you can and some water.
Whether you wait for me there, or go straight on to the ruin, I leave to you. That will depend of course on how far you find it possible to get clear without the risk of being seen from the guest-house. Feng will know best about that. In any case I think he'd better slip out and see if he can see anything of Ginger."
Ritzen nodded. "I can't think of anything else. We'll leave it like this.
You'll find us either at the limit of the caves or at the ruins. It will be one or the other."
"Okay," confirmed Algy, and resumed his position to watch what was happening below.
Ritzen crept away.
Down in the oasis the work was proceeding in the usual Eastern disorderly manner. The boxes were being unpacked. Grey bundles of dynamite sticks were being put down on the grass. Drums of fuse wire were being uncoiled.
The men were still smoking cigarettes. Algy prayed that one of them might drop a spark either on the dynamite or on the dry grass, but this prayer was not answered. Whatever else happened it was now plain that there was going to be an explosion.
A box of dynamite was carried to the guest-house. A coil of wire was uncoiled to the same place. A man went inside, presumably to make the connection. Algy, of course, couldn't see inside the building. So the guest-house was to be demolished. That was certain. Algy hoped that would be all, but he feared not. The quantity of explosive was significant.
Even more significant was the way Ma Chang stared up at the caves while he gave more orders. From this Algy could only think that the caves were to be blown up, too. Apart from what this would mean to him, personally, it shocked him to think that these young fools—for most of the soldiers were youngish men—were ready so casually to destroy the immense labour of their ancestors. It was an indication of how far insidious propaganda had smothered their religious principles.
There was now, it seemed, to be a respite. The soldiers broke off what they were doing to water their horses, which were afterwards taken to some place out of sight. They then retired some distance to the shade of the poplars, sat down together, took food of some sort from their haversacks and started to eat.
CHAPTER IX SHOCKS—IN THE PLURAL
In the interval of this unexpected but welcome delay Algy considered the situation from every angle. He did some fast thinking, and from it an idea emerged, an idea that at first appeared so impudent that he recoiled from it, telling himself that he was out of his mind. Would Biggles think so? he wondered. The answer was a definite no. Biggles had so often said that the more daring a scheme the more likely it was to come off.
The troops were a good hundred yards from their dump. They had left it unguarded. No sentry was posted anywhere. They had left their carbines lying about like day-old recruits without supervision. This conduct, thought Algy, was so lacking in common-sense, so opposed to reasonable military procedure, that advantage should be taken of it. The question was, how?
The dynamite had been spread about in the grass, this apparently being considered the safest place for it. Possibly it was, since a sudden jolt has been known to cause the treacherous stuff to explode. The grass was thick, and as dry as sun-parched dead grass can be, which is very dry indeed and more than slightly inflammable. With fire set to it, it would burn fast and furiously. One match would be enough to set it ablaze.
Algy surveyed the ground below him with great care. Everything would depend on being able to get down without being seen. He thought it could be done. The troops were laughing and talking as they wolfed their rations. They were not even looking about them, obviously being under the impression that they were alone on the oasis; which, admittedly, was understandable.
The narrow path leading down to the river was trodden deep from long use.
Once at the stream there would be no lack of cover, for this, too, had dug a bed well down into the ground. One bend of the stream passed within a few yards of the grass that had given Algy his idea. He decided that getting down was a reasonable risk. But getting back presented a more difficult problem. It was obvious that once the grass was fired there would be a certain amount of smoke and this could hardly fail to attract attention. Once the alarm had been raised it would not be possible to move without being seen, for all eyes would then be turned that way.
The answer seemed to be, not to try to get back up the path, but retreat directly away from the fire, through the orchard to a point where the cliff came down to merge with the desert. Then, by doubling back well clear of the edge of the cliff, he could either hide among the dunes or make his way straight to the ruined tower.
He resolved to make the attempt, for if it came off it would be a master-stroke, in that not only would the caves be saved but the troops would have no reason to stay. It also seemed unlikely that they would return to repeat the experiment. Ma Chang, knowing that his own inefficiency was to blame, would not report the failure of his mission. To save his face he might even pretend that he had done the job he had been sent
to do. He would, remembering the cigarette smoking during the unpacking business, suppose the firing of the grass to be an accident. At least, that is what Algy hoped. A fire could easily have been started that way.
Oddly enough, it never occurred to him that anyone might be hurt, the reason for this being, perhaps, because there was no one near the dynamite. He could not imagine anyone being so foolish as to go near it once the grass was alight.
Without further delay he inched his way forward to the top of the path, and resisting the temptation to look at the troops, which would have meant exposing his head, he carried on down what proved to be an easy descent. The going was rough, of course, and the grit took some of the skin off his knees; but this was a minor discomfort compared with what was at stake.
He paused when he reached the stream. The voice of the soldiers still laughing and talking as though the were out on a picnic told him that all was well, and safe for him to proceed. He took the precaution of putting his box of matches between his teeth to prevent them from getting wet, and still in the prone position set off in the manner of a crocodile up the stream. There was no difficulty about this, for he was still out of sight, and nowhere was the water more than a few inches deep. The worst was over, he told himself. Whatever happened now he would set fire to the grass. Nothing could stop him.
The plan developed without a hitch. Reaching the bend in the brook which he had noted from above as the spot best suited to his purpose, he took a cautious peep. Not a soul was in sight. Breathing fast and trembling a little with excitement now that success was so near, he reached out, tore up some tufts of the driest grass on which he could lay his hands and twisted the stuff into a rough torch. To this he now put a match.
As soon as it was well alight he jumped up, dashed forward, and ran the entire length of the grass, putting fire to it at close intervals. He was now in view of the troops should they look his way, but to his surprise, not to say relief, still no alarm was given.
He did not stop to upset this satisfactory state of affairs by pushing his luck too far, but ran straight on into the orchard. Only when he was in the deep shade of the trees did he pull up for a moment to look back.
He could have shouted with exultation when he saw that the fires which he had started had met and a wall of flame was moving briskly, with a cheerful crackle, in the right direction.
Wasting no time in self-congratulations that might turn out to be premature he ran on, ducking under the trees, to the end of the cliff.
His luck held and he reached it without seeing a soul. But he noticed the horses picketed to a rope strung between two trees. He was relieved to note that they were too far away to be affected by the explosion. For a moment he toyed with the idea of turning them loose, but decided against it, a resolve that was supported by a wild yell from the area he had just left.
Turning the end of the cliff he held on for a little way until, seeing an opening in the rocks, he crept into it to look at what was happening below. By this time there was a good deal of noise. It sounded as if the soldiers were all shouting at once, as indeed they were, and he did not have to look far for the reason.
What he saw exceeded his hopes and filled him with a fierce satisfaction.
Most of the grass was now well and truly alight. Sparks were flying high, and these, falling around, had fired the grass in many places. These spread at a speed beyond his most optimistic hopes. There was a good deal more smoke than he had anticipated, too.
Through it, as through a veil, he saw a picture of the wildest disorder, although for this he was prepared. Everybody appeared to be running without any definite purpose, and certainly without achieving anything.
One or two of the soldiers were beating at the edge of the flames with their jackets although this was so obviously futile that he wondered why they persisted. They might as well have tried to extinguish a volcano with the same appliances. Apparently obeying the hysterical screaming of his commanding officer one man did run forward as if he intended snatching something from the holocaust, but seeing the flames already licking at the dynamite, he lost his nerve and—very wisely Algy thought—
ran back.
Algy held his breath, for it was evident that an explosion might occur at any moment now, and if it did, somebody, probably several people, were certainly going to be hurt. But the troops realised that, too. One started running, and the rest, taking the hint, followed. A length of instantaneous fuse went off like a squib and hastened their departure.
That was the end of any attempt at fire fighting.
To his amazement Algy saw Ma Chang, followed by two of his men, dash into the guest-house, presumably for shelter. Either they didn't realise what was inside or else they had forgotten. However, they must have discovered it, for they came out even faster than they had gone in. Indeed, so fast did they run that Algy couldn't repress a smile. They had just flung themselves under the poplars when the end came.
There was a vivid flash and an ear-splitting crack as what must have been a box of detonators went up. Being in close proximity the dynamite needed no further encouragement. Everything seemed to go up together, including the guest-house, the fuse leading to it having been fired.
Algy was prepared for a healthy explosion, but not for what actually happened. The blast shook him in more senses than one, to say nothing of half burying him under sand. It was not only sand that went into the air, and he covered his head with his hands as debris rained down from the smoke-filled sky.
Half blinded by the flying dust it was a minute or two before he could see anything clearly. When he could, the first thing he noticed was a black smoking crater where the explosive had been dumped. The guesthouse had vanished as completely as if it had never been. The mud bricks of which it had been built were never intended to take such a strain. Nobody appeared to be hurt, at any rate seriously, for the soldiers could be seen standing at a distance gazing at the ruins as if they found it hard to believe their eyes. They were no longer laughing, or even talking. The only casualty, as far as Algy could make out, was one who sat on the ground holding his head as if something had fallen on it. His comrades took no notice of him.
Algy was more concerned about the horses. Their reaction to the explosion, while not remarkable, was not in his programme. They had stampeded. The tethering rope, unable to hold them in their first frantic plunge had broken, and they were now galloping about in all directions.
He was sorry about this; and he was not thinking only of the beasts. It
would take some time to round them up and the soldiers would have to remain until this was done. He was anxious for them to go. Apart from being anxious to know what had happened to Ginger, he wanted to finish the work of clearing the landing-strip, which for one reason or another had been held up longer than he liked.
When the troops had recovered sufficiently from their shock to move, their behaviour indicated, as Algy hoped might happen, that they took it for granted the calamity was accidental. At least, they did not make a search; nor did they trouble to examine the ground where the explosion had occurred. Not that they would have found anything if they had.
Instead, faced with the disagreeable prospect of having to walk back to their barracks, they employed themselves in catching their mounts. This took some time, although not as long as Algy feared it might. When the animals had all been rounded up the troops simply rode off without a backward glance. This of course suited Algy, who lay watching them until he was sure that there was no likelihood of their return.
Getting up at last he continued on his way, keeping well back from the edge of the cliff until he reached the far end, where he found the whole party waiting, prepared to move to the crypt should it have been necessary. Ginger was not there, but in view of what had happened Algy didn't expect to see him. On the other hand, Algy's appearance was greeted with exclamations of relief, for neither Ritzen nor the others knew really what had happened on the oasis. Hearing the explosion, they said, they were afraid
that the central part of the cliff had been blown up while he was still there. Wherefore his arrival was greeted with satisfaction. The news that the troops had gone produced smiles.
"Have the caves been damaged?" asked Ritzen.
Algy said that as he hadn't been there he didn't know. "What was that tremendous explosion?"
"That was the dynamite going off," answered Algy, grinning. "As a matter of fact it went off a little before they were ready for it."
Ritzen looked at him suspiciously. "Did you have a hand in this?"
"I helped," admitted Algy.
"Where are the soldiers now?"
"When I last saw them they were heading for the horizon." Algy became serious. "What about Ginger? Have you heard anything about the others?"
"Not a word."
46 Biggles in the Gobi Page 8
