"Then let's hope these are some of the good boys," murmured Bertie.
Nothing could be done. As the shadow drew nearer, Algy saw that it was composed of camels, each with a muffled rider. There were, he estimated, not fewer than fifty of them.
Soft-padded feet made an eerie sound on the sand as the Arabs advanced. It was like no other sound he had ever heard. It was the only sound. There was something unnerving about the deliberate, silent approach. That the machine had been seen was obvious. There was nothing surprising about that. The Douglas, the only object on miles of flat desert, was as conspicuous as a beetle on a sheet of white paper. The watchful eyes of the Tuareg must have spotted it from a great distance.
As the riders drew near, the majority split into two lines, which, moving in opposite directions, quickly encircled the aircraft and its crew. A few came on to where the white men stood waiting. There was something frightening, but at the same time impressive, about the upright, confident bearing of these warriors of the wilderness.
"Can you speak their language?" Algy asked Emile anxiously.
"Some of it, I think. We shall see," was the reply.
"If these are the fellows who were shot up at El Asile when they tried to get a drink, I should say we've had it," observed Bertie calmly. "We couldn't blame them for knocking us off."
Algy, who had forgotten the incident, wished Bertie hadn't mentioned it. The sense of the remark was all too evident.
The Arabs closed up, presenting a striking spectacle, yet at the same time creating a sensation of unreality. In the moonlight the camels and their riders looked enormous.
Every man, Algy noticed with dismay, carried a rifle and a lance.
Even after the camels had been brought to a halt, forming a semicircle before the white men, the sinister silence persisted. Looking up, all Algy could see was a pair of dark eyes above the veil that every man wore. Not being able to speak induced an unpleasant feeling of helplessness.
It was Emile who spoke first. What he said, neither Algy nor Bertie knew, of course. At all events, he received an answer, which was something; and for a little while a laconic conversation in gutteral tones was carried on. Then Emile turned to Algy and said, simply: "They are going to kill us because the white men in the valley refused them water and shot two of their warriors."
To Algy this information came as a shock, because as far as actions were concerned the Tuareg had shown no signs of hostility or violence. "Tell them," he told Emile, "that we are enemies of the men in the valley, who are
thieves and murderers. The Government has sent us here to seize them and take them away. When these men have gone the Tuareg will always be able to take as much water as they want."
This message Emile passed on. It received a dubious reception. There was some more talking, and again Emile translated. "The Tuareg say they are on their way to the oasis to kill these men themselves."
"Tell them that if they do that there will be trouble," requested Algy. "French soldiers are on their way to capture these men and take them to prison. Let the Tuareg wait. If they kill us the soldiers will know of it and the water in the valley will be destroyed."
Emile conveyed the message. Another argument followed, in which there seemed to be some difference of opinion between the Tuareg themselves.
"They say," said Emile, "that if they spare our lives we will fetch soldiers to punish them for attacking the Oasis."
"Tell them that if they spare our lives they will be rewarded. They can help the soldiers when they come. If they kill us it is certain that war will be made on them and the oasis destroyed, which would be a bad thing for all Arabs."
There was more talking.
At length Emile shrugged his expressive shoulders. Said he: "It is no use, monsieur. They
have sworn death to the men in the valley for the blood they have shed, and nothing shall stop them. So that we shall not give warning we must go with them. If we fight on their side it will prove we are enemies of the men in the valley."
"Tell thein we cannot move the aeroplane. We will stay here. Why, do they think, are we sitting here in the desert?"
"This I have told them, but they will not believe it."
"Can't blame 'em," put in Bertie. "We must admit these lads have a jolly good argument, having had two of their chaps shot, and all the rest of it."
Algy made up his mind quickly. If it was a question of being shot or going with them, obviously, it was better to go with them. "Tell them," he told Emile, "that we will go with them, for it was our purpose, with the aid of soldiers, to make prisoners of the men in the valley."
Actually, of course, he saw clearly enough that this was not really a matter of choice.
Whatever happened the Tuareg would not go on and leave them to warn—as they would suppose was possible—either the French post at Insalah or the men at El Asile. He had a vague hope that before the Arabs could attack, something would happen to prevent it.
Biggles, he was sure, having got Marcel's message, would by this time be on the way, and he would not be likely to come alone.
There was no more talking. The Arabs closed up in readiness to move off. Emile said they must go with them. There were no spare camels, so they would have to walk. The Tuareg, he added bitterly, had no fear that they would try to run away.
The return journey to El Asile began, with the Douglas, looking pathetically lonely and forlorn, standing where it was grounded. As near as he could judge Algy reckoned they had about ten miles to go. He was by no means sure, because he had been too occupied with the petrol trouble to pay attention to distance. Anyhow, they had a long walk in front of them, there was no doubt about that.
In actual practice it seemed interminable. There was only one redeeming feature. The cool night air was invigorating, and none of them suffered any particular fatigue. If they had had bad luck, thought Algy on reflection, it had, as usual, been counterbalanced by good, in that Emile had thought fit to stow himself in the machine. He hated to think of what would have happened had he and Bertie found themselves beset by the Tuareg without any means of speaking with them.
The march was maintained in silence. The only sound was the soft padding of the camels, so supercilious in expression and so distinctive in aroma. The quaint thought struck him that they had started the night with
the latest form of transport, and were ending it with what was probably one of the oldest.
The going became harder as the sand gave way to rock, through which the riders threaded as they sought the easiest route. Hills on either side told Algy that they were drawing near to their objective.
He did not trouble to wonder what was likely to happen if the attack developed into a serious battle, as it .might, for the White Prophets were armed and would certainly fight.
Whichever side won, their plight, he was sure. would be an unpleasant one. The Prophets, on their part, would give them short shrift if they caught them. What the Tuareg would do if they won was a matter for conjecture, but as it could not be worse it appeared to be the lesser of the two evils. He hoped, therefore, that the Arabs would win.
They were obviously relying on a surprise attack to achieve this, and this reminded him of the two sentries that had been posted. Were the Tuareg aware of this, he wondered? If not, the onset was likely to fail. As he did not want this to happen, the Arabs, he thought, should be warned. Such a warning would prove which side they were on. Touching Emile on the arm, he whispered the suggestion.
Emile hurried forward, and having gained the leader's attention spoke to him quietly for a little while. Then he returned to his place. "The information was well received," he breathed. "The Tuareg now think better of us."
It was getting on towards dawn, with the moon an enormous orange disc balanced on the horizon, when the party came to a halt. Without a sound the Arabs "couched" their camels and dismounted. Not a word was spoken. To Algy this was a wonderful example of discipline among men to whom orthodox military training was
unknown. He could not imagine white troops behaving in the same way. But then, he pondered, here silence was everything. In the thin, dry air the slightest sound was amplified a hundred times.
Algy. Bertie, and Emile, stood watching while prepara tions for the attack were made.
No one took any notice of them. They might not have existed. In small parties the Arabs departed like ghostly shapes to merge into the rocks ahead. At last only a few remained, in charge of the camels.
It is not to be supposed that Algy watched these preparations without misgivings. Putting aside the characters of the men in the valley, they were, after all, white men. They were going to be attacked, and probably killed. Some of them, certainly, would be killed. That this state of affairs was due to their own folly was true, but it did not alter the fact.
Wherefore he felt uncomfortable. But he did not see what they could do. The attack would be launched whatever they did, anyway. Anything they did to frustrate it, even a remonstrance, would be taken by the Arabs as a hostile action, with disastrous results for them. It came to this. He would have warned the men in the valley had it been possible; but it was illogical to throw his life away in 'a futile attempt to save men who, given the opportunity, would kill him without the slightest compunction. Von Stalhein had, in fact, tried to kill him. So Algy did nothing. He merely sat on a convenient rock and waited for what might befall. There Berne and Emile joined him. There was nothing to say, so nothing was said.
The waiting became a strain. The silence, the utter absence of sound, was a sensation in itself, something not of this world with its busy communities, but of the great empty spaces of the universe.
It ended abruptly just as the first glow of the false dawn smudged the eastern sky with a glow of pale pink. Then came the dawn-wind, breathing across the desert. A ray of light shone upwards, and with it came a gunshot, so clear, so loud, that Algy's nerves twitched like a steel spring suddenly released. The shot was followed by a volley.
Algy looked at Berne. "There they go," he said softly.
XV
THE SUN DICTATES
THE onset in the valley, once launched, developed quickly into a battle of some intensity, the noise of which made further silence on the part of Algy and Bertie unnecessary. The roll of musketry became almost continuous. Occasionally it was punctuated by a shout—from one of the white defenders, Algy thought. The Tuareg camel-guards stood like statues beside their beasts, apparently not in the least concerned by what was going on.
"I didn't realize we were so close to the valley," Algy told Bertie. "It must be just over that next ridge."
"If Biggles or any of them happen to arrive in the middle of this fuss they'll think we're putting up a jolly good show," remarked Bertie.
Algy had been thinking the same thing. He wondered what would happen if Biggles did come, because should his intention be to land there was only one place, and that was in the valley itself. All round it the ground was broken, more rock than sand, between low hills deeply fissured.
There was no indication of how the conflict was going, although when a machine gun, or an automatic weapon of some sort, opened up, Bertie observed, inconsequentially: "I'll bet the old Tuareg won't think much of that."
Algy did not answer. He jumped up as another, an even more significant sound, became audible above the din of war. It was the roar of aircraft motors. He assumed, naturally, that it was Biggles, forgetting for a moment that the enemy had aircraft. He was not a little startled when a Mosquito flashed into view, not from the direction he expected, but froin the valley. So low was it that he ducked, thinking the wheels, which were still down, were going to hit the rocks, in which case the machine must have crashed on top of them. The undercarriage missed the rocks by inches, and in a few seconds the aircraft was out of sight beyond some rising ground, going, as Bertie remarked, coarsely but aptly, like a bat out of hell.
"That'll be von Stalhein, getting out," said Algy. "Trust him. Well, he may have a shock when he gets home—that's if he's going to the Plaine de la Crau."
The shooting was by this time tending to become sporadic. Presently smoke, coal-black smoke, began to coil sluggishly into the blue sky. Some of it was caught in a down draught and drawn back into the valley.
"That's oil," declared Algy. "The Tuareg have either set the dump on fire or the machines."
"The smoke's coming from the nullah where they're kept, anyhow," confirmed Bertie.
A few more shots were fired, and then the battle slowly fizzled out. The Tuareg warriors began to drift back in small parties, some limping, a few helping others apparently wounded. They went to their camels and stood waiting. Few were missing. Algy thought. When, after an interval, no more appeared, the Arabs mounted quietly and rode away. There was still no talking, nor did they display any signs of emotion to suggest how things had gone with them.
Bertie sprang up. "By Jove! They're going to leave us here!"
"They might have done worse than that," replied Algy. "I suppose they don't want to clutter themselves up with us."
"But I say, old boy, we'll never find our way back to the machine!" declared Bertie.
"We should be crazy to try, particularly as we have no water," answered Algy. "The only water is in the valley, and I'm staying near it. We couldn't last twenty-four hours without a drink."
"Then we'd better have a look at what's happened," opined Bertie.
They all moved forward to the ridge that cut off their view, and below which, as they presently discovered, a rocky bank fell steeply into the valley perhaps a hundred feet below. Reaching it first, Algy looked over—carelessly, as he realized an instant later when a bullet smashed against a rock unpleasantly close.
"They're not all dead, anyhow," said Bertie, unnecessarily.
Algy had ducked back under cover. "No. And if they keep that sort of thing up we're in a mess."
"Why?"
"We can't just sit here. We've got to get to water."
Bertie looked perplexed. "How dashed awkward. If we stay here we frizzle. If we try to get to the trough we shall be shot. But there is this about it, laddie; if their machines have been set on fire the blighters can't get away."
"Neithei can we."
"They'll be stuck here—absolutely pegged down by the ears, and all that."
"That doesn't help us."
"Too true, old boy, too true. Well, what are we going to do about it?" Bertie polished his eyeglass vigorously. "I want a drink."
"If you stick your head over that ridge what you'll get is a bullet."
"We shall have to find out what's happened in the valley."
"Just a minute." Algy crawled a little way and peeped cautiously between two rocks.
Dimly through the drifting smoke he could see several bodies lying about, both brown and white. There was nobody moving, from which he assumed that the survivors of the attack had taken refuge in the buildings. He returned to the others. "Nothing much to see,
" he announced. "The Prophets have gone into cover. I don't suppose they realize that the Tuareg have gone. I hope they go on thinking that, because if they knew we were here by ourselves they'd soon be after us."
"Then the thing is to keep them guessing until Biggles or Joudrier comes to winkle them out," suggested Bertie.
"That's all very fine, but we can't last a day without water."
"If we bang off at them every time they try to get to the well, they won't get a drink, either."
"As I said before, that won't quench our thirst. In any case, I shouldn't be able to do much execution with my pistol. That's the only weapon we've got."
"Could we make a rush and grab the rifles of some of the blokes who have gone for a Burton?"
Algy looked doubtful. "This is no place to stop a bullet. My inclination is to stay under cover and let them make the first move. If they caught sight of us they might guess the Tuareg have gone."
"Okay, old boy. Just as you like," agreed Bertie. "We'll wait for Biggles to roll u
p."
There was a long lull in the conversation, and as the sun was now striking down with considerable force they moved a little way to a bluff, on one side of which there was still a narrow strip of shade.
"We've no hope of getting out of this until Biggles comes," resumed Algy, who had been giving some thought to the matter. "What worries me is, what is he going to do when he gets here? The only possible landing-place is in the valley, and if he goes down there he's liable to be shot before he can get an idea of what's happening"
"By Jove! You're absolutely right!" returned Bertie, looking alarmed. "We mustn't let that happen."
"I've been thinking about it," went on Algy. "As far as I can see the best thing we can do is lie doggo until we hear him coming, then sprint to the top of one of these hills and wave a shirt or something. If he spots us up here he'll realize there's something wrong."
"True enough," conceded Bertie.
Again the conversation languished while the sun
climbed to its zenith and tormented the earth with its merciless rays. The shadow of the bluff dwindled, and by the time the sun was immediately overhead there was no shade left. There was no shade anywhere. Algy, reluctant to be the first to complain, stuck it for as long as he could, but at length, finding the position no longer endurable, was forced to say: "This is no use. I'm being cooked alive. This infernal sun will flay us if we stay here."
"I'm all dried up," declared Bertie. "As you say, laddie, it's no use. We shall have to shift.
Anything is better than this."
They got up, and after walking a little way were fortunate to find a little cavity into which the sun had not yet penetrated. In this they crouched. No one mentioned water, although each knew that the others must be suffering considerably from thirst. Bertie's remark about being dried up was becoming literally true.
More time passed, with the sun flaming its daily journey across the sky. Its rays found the cavity and bombarded it with lances of fire.
"A nasty thought has just occurred to me," said Algy, after a while.
40 Biggles Works It Out Page 14
