him of something he had heard before, and even as the word "Falls" rose to his lips he was hurled outwards and downwards.
Now, Biggles, in describing his adventures afterwards to the others, was convinced that he fell a distance of at least a hundred feet, a computation that brought a smile to Algy's face. But this was quite possible. In! Samoa and other islands in the South Seas in which high waterfalls occur, the Polynesians think nothing of allowing themselves to be carried over certain falls even higher than this. It is indulged in as a kind of sport rather than as a feat demanding nerve and endurance. Be that as it may, Biggles had a fleeting impression of being pounded to pulp by a tremendous force that surged around him in a world of darkness; a roar like thunder in his ears, and just as he thought his lungs must surely burst he found himself blinking at the sun with his arms resting on something solid. Dazed, gasping like a stranded fish, he wiped his dripping hair from his eyes and saw that he was lying on a shelving sandbank in the middle of a wide, rippling stream. He could see the falls some little distance away churning the water into boiling foam. At first he was unable to believe that he was still alive, so certain had he been that the cold hand of death had already settled upon him, but he rose gingerly to his feet, and, seeing that the water was fairly shallow, reaching not much higher than his waist, he waded wearily to the nearest bank, where he flung himself down out of sheer exhaustion. In a few minutes his numbed faculties were restored and his frozen limbs beginning to thaw in the sun. A slow smile spread over his face. "The next time anybody talks to me about going off at the deep end I shall know what they mean," he mused. "Well, I suppose I'm still in Brazil." He rose to his feet and looked around. On his left, and seemingly quite close, towered the perpendicular wall of the plateau. To the right of it were the giant peaks
that fell away into a series of foothills, between two of which he now stood. Being in a valley, his field of vision was very restricted, so he set off up the side of the nearest hill to get a better view. When he reached the top and looked down, he could scarcely believe his, eyes.
Straight in front of him, and not more than a quarter of a mile away at the foot of the gently sloping hill, was another stream at a lower level, and this he recognised at once as the one up which they had walked to the cave. His eyes swept along it, and came to rest on the Condor, standing just as he had left it except that its exposed wings were now shining brightly in the sun.
Delighted with his good fortune, he set off down the hill without delay. "Dickpa was certainly right about Brazil," he thought as he pushed his way through creeper-clad bushes and high grass. "This is the place where you can always reckon on the unexpected happening. Still, this bit of luck wasn't out of turn." He struck the stream a trifle below the Condor, and he made his way quickly towards it, anxious to learn if any damage had been done by the monkeys. "I'll get myself a tin of beans before I do anything else," he thought, suddenly realising that he was famished.
Casually, he opened the door of the cabin. Almost as if to prove what he had just been thinking, the sight that met his eyes was so completely and utterly unexpected that he could only stand and stare in stupefied astonishment.
Upon a cushion, engaged in the prosaic occupation of ladling out the contents of a tin of pork and beans with a spoon, sat a man.
"What's the big idea?" said Biggles coldly, reaching for his automatic and looking the stranger up and down, for he was the most amazing apparition he had ever seen. He was a negro, with curly white hair and a straggling wisp of beard. The tatters of-a vest hung over his shoulders, revealing a tattooed battleship on his skinny chest, while in lieu of trousers he wore a strip of old blanket wound about his middle, and this, secured with a liana, served as a sort of kilt. But it was not these things that caught Biggles's eyes and held them fascinated in spite of danger which might threaten. On his feet and legs were a pair of new, beautifully cut officer's field-boots, and the whole effect was so incongruous that Biggles could only gape in comical amusement.
"Doan shoot, boss," answered the man quickly, in English, in answer to his question, nearly choking in his haste to speak with his mouth full of beans. "I ain't one of dem good-fer-nuthin' fellers what's after you—no, sah, dat's truf, sure as I's me. I doan mean no harm, boss
"Hold hard a minute," cried Biggles, recovering from his astonishment. "Are you here alone?"
"Sure, boss."
"What's your name?"
"Aaron Speakdetruf."
"What?"
"Dat's honest, sah; if my old mudder was here she tell you dat's truf, sah."
"Where have you come from?"
"Fust place, way back in Trinidad, sah; second place, way down de ribber."
"Trinidad. Is that where you learnt to speak English?"
"That's right, sah."
"What river are you talking about?"
"Why, dis ribber, sah."
"What are you doing up here?"
The old negro clasped and unclasped his hands convulsively and his lips twitched. " Doan take me back, sah," he begged. "I "
"So you're a rubber collector—run away, eh?"
"Dat's truf, sah. Dey told me if I come here and pick rubber pretty soon dey take me back home, sah; but
I've been here more'n twenty years now, sah, and I ain't had nuthin', doan see nuthin'
"And ain't got nuthin'," continued Biggles. "I see. Well, don't make a song about it. How long have you been in this machine?"
"Just come, sah; found all dem ole monkeys—" "Did you know we were here?"
"No, sah, dat's truf."
"But you knew we were about somewhere?" suggested Biggles suspiciously.
"Why, yaas, sah; I heard dem fellers talking." "Talking! What about?"
"Well, 'twas dis way, sah. I was going down de ribber in de ole canoe and I met dem coming up on de water on der big flying-bird. Dey say, 'Have you seen another flyingbird?' And I say, 'No, dat's truf.' I "
"Go on, cut out the rough stuff. What did they do?" "Why, dey beat me, sah, and say dey take me back to da Silva."
"Da Silva?" cried Biggles, staring aghast at the terrible weals on the old man's shoulders, which he had exposed to prove his words.
"Yaas, he's my massa, sah. I owe him tree hundred pounds, he sez." Biggles, who had heard how the rubber kings controlled their unfortunate labourers by getting them to incur an imaginary debt and then holding them to their jobs without pay, during which the debt invariably grew larger instead of smaller, nodded sympathetically.
"But how did you get here?" he asked.
"I broke away from dat camp in de dark night, sah, and I set off anywhere."
"And you borrowed a pair of boots, I see?"
"Why, yaas, sah; I hadn't no shoes of no account. I got back in my ole canoe and went anywhere to get out o' dem fellers' way, sah. A bad, good-fer-nuthin' lot dey are, and low-down nigger wid urn, too, de
black trash! I heard dem larfin' 'bout you, sah. Dey say, police all down de ribber by Manaos and Para all wanna hang you fer killin' a low-down good-fer-nuthin' nigger in de jail at Manaos."
"Killing, did you say?" cried Biggles, remembering the black gendarme in the jail at Manaos.
"Why, yaas, sah. He ain't dead, sah, but dey say he is so as dey can hang you."
"I see," said Biggles slowly, realising that it was going to be even more difficult to get out of the country than they expected. "Where are you going now?" he asked.
"I dunno, sah. 'Pears all de same to me. If I keep goin' maybe I'll come to Trinidad sometime."
"I'm afraid you've got a tidy step in front of you," observed Biggles. "Well, I'm afraid I can't take you with me."
"No, sah, de good Lord ain't gibben me no wings, sah. I ain't no feddered fowl, sah."
"You're right there," grinned Biggles. "Well, give me a hand to haul the machine up on the bank and I'll give you some grub to see you on your way. Come on." A quick examination revealed that no damage had been done by the monkeys, who had evidently merely conten
ted themselves with throwing the loose branches off the machine. It proved to be no easy job to move the machine, and Biggles had to start the engines, much to the old negro's horror, before the Condor finally stood on terra firma. He could not help reflecting on the curious chance that had brought the negro his way, for he realised now for the first time that he could never have got the Condor out of the stream singlehanded.
He taxied out on to the runway where they had landed, and, leaving the engines ticking over, climbed out of the cockpit to give the old man the promised stores. The negro, who had evidently never seen so much food before, thanked him with tears in his eyes, and, leaving him to pursue his solitary way, Biggles climbed back into the cockpit with a grunt of satisfaction and opened the throttles.
The Condor bumped rather alarmingly over the rough ground, but a light breeze helped her, and she was soon in the air, climbing steeply and banking in the direction of the towering cliff upon which Biggles had fixed his eyes. And thus it was that he did not see the tragedy being enacted below, or know how near he had been to disaster as he unhurriedly bade the old nigger goodbye. Later, the others told him. Simultaneously with his wheels leaving the ground, four men, panting as if they had been running, dashed round the corner of the stream where the Condor had stood. The leader, the same pock-marked individual that Biggles had stunned in far-away England, stopped dead with a foul oath.
"Gone," he said. "We've missed 'em by a minute. That cursed negro must have told 'em we'd seen the machine and were on our way. There he is now." The unfortunate negro, unaware of their approach, was busy putting his newly found wealth in his canoe, crooning an old plantation song as he did so.
"So you found 'em, eh?" snarled Blattner, his lips curled back from his yellow teeth in a bitter snarl.
The negro looked into the bloodshot, evil eyes and read death in them. His face turned a horrible greenish hue. "No, sah," he faltered. "I
"You didn't, eh?" snarled Blattner, drawing his revolver. The miserable negro had dropped to his knees. "Doan shoot, sah," he implored. "It's truf, sah—"
A stab of flame spurted from the muzzle of the gun as it roared its leaden message of death.
Two big tears rolled down the old man's cheeks as he slipped forward like a swimmer in deep water.
Again the revolver barked. The negro gave a convulsive shudder and then lay still. Blattner laughed shortly as he pushed the revolver back into its holster. "That's the only way to serve those swine," he snarled.
Biggles, three thousand feet above, and some distance away, unaware of the grim fate that had overtaken his recent assistant, and that four pairs of eyes were watching every turn he made, cut off his engines and glided gently towards the smooth surface of the plateau. He knew that he was about to make the most important landing of his life, a landing where the least mistake would have disastrous consequences, not only to himself; but to those he loved best in the world. Once, over the rim of the cliff; a swirling upcurrent from the over-heated rock brought his heart into his mouth, but he had the Condor back on an even keel in a flash, and with hands and eyes as steady as the rock on which he was about to land, he flattened out and dropped lightly on the elevated landingground. When he looked up, a little pale from his ordeal, Dickpa, Algy, and Smyth were running towards him, cheering.
"Easy as A B C," laughed Algy in relief.
"Easy, was it?" replied Biggles. "You go and take a running snatch at yourself. What with climbing down crazy staircases built for lunatics, being attacked by mad eagles, falling into rapids, diving over waterfalls"
"And then missing being captured by the skin of your teeth," broke in Algy, `you've—"
"What by the skin of my teeth?" interrupted Biggles sharply.
"Being captured. You saw Silas and his crowd tearing up the stream, didn't you?"
"Great jumping cats! No, I didn't, and that's a fact," 'confessed Biggles. "What are you talking about?"
"We could see the whole thing from up here, and we nearly went off our heads with excitement. We couldn't make out why on earth you didn't hurry
you seemed to be deliberately taking your time. We were certain they were going to nab you. Who was the other fellow you were with? They've shot him, you know." Biggles turned as white as death. "Shot—him," he whispered.
"Yes, killed him in cold blood, the devils," broke in Dickpa. Biggles sat silent in his cockpit for a moment, and, when he looked up, his face wore a strange expression. "One day—soon, I hope—I shall kill them," he said
CHAPTER XVI
COMBAT TACTICS
OVER a hurried meal, Biggles described his adventures since his leap for life on the swaying bridge. Dickpa was very intrigued at the description of his battle with the great white bird, which he told him must have been one of the very rare king condors. The others had little to relate. They had spent a very uncomfortable night on the open plateau, incidentally getting drenched to the skin in the storm that had scared Biggles during his night in the shelter on the cliff. In the morning, not knowing whether he had succeeded in finding a way down, they had repaired to the top of the pyramid, from where they had seen the negro's discovery of the Condor, Biggles's subsequent arrival, and the dramatic sequel. With a smile Dickpa described how they had all cheered as the Condor left the ground under the very noses of the enemy and climbed upwards towards them like a great white gull.
"Well, we aren't out of the wood yet, not by a long way," observed Biggles. "One thing is certain; we can't go back the way we came. If we so much as touch our wheels in any civilized part of Brazil—if there is such a place—we shall be slung into jail before we know where we are"; and he repeated the story the negro had told him of the trumped-up charge against them for "killing" the prison warder—"the fellow I dotted on the back of the nut with the mooring-spike," he explained. "What are we going to do about it?"
"The only solution seems to be to make for Bolivia," said Dickpa, with a worried frown.
"Bolivia! How far is it away?"
"Speaking from memory, I should say we are about two hundred and fifty miles from the Bolivian frontier, and then about another four hundred miles on to La Paz, the capital. But let us look at the map; we have one in the cabin."
The map was quickly produced, and, spreading it over the wing of the Condor, they examined their proposed course. The distances Dickpa had given were practically correct, which meant that Bolivia was well within their range, and there was no reason, except possible engine failure, why they should not cover the whole distance in one hop and put themselves beyond the vengeance of their enemies. Dickpa anticipated no trouble with the Bolivian authorities, for he knew many influential people on the Pacific side of the Andes, where he had made several exploring expeditions. They. would, of course, have to make an account of their quest, and possibly hand over a certain percentage of it to the Bolivian Government, according to the laws of that land where treasure-trove was a by no means infrequent occurrence. What action Brazil would take, when the authorities heard of the discovery of the treasure, they neither knew nor cared. In any case, Dickpa had a permit to search for treasure, granted some years before, and, once back in their own land, it was unlikely that they would be molested, as they undoubtedly would be if they passed through Manaos on their way back. Indeed, Dickpa was quite certain that the fact of treasure being aboard the Condor would make the Brazilian authorities still more anxious to intercept them.
Biggles laid a compass course to Lake Titicaca, the great inland sea of Bolivia, on the shores of which the capital was situated, and where he anticipated no trouble. in making a safe landing. Further, it was so large that he could hardly miss it.
"Well, let us see about getting the treasure on board,
or as much of it as we can carry," he suggested. "Silas & Co. may not suspect that we are not going back the way we came, but there is a good chance that now they know where we are they will try some mischief. Luckily they can't land up here in their flying-boat, but they've got a machine-gun,
don't forget, and they might make things a bit hot for us. I don't like the look of the weather, anyway," he went on, looking around the sky with a speculative eye. "I have a feeling in my bones that this is a calm before a storm." Indeed, the truth of his words was at once apparent to the others, for a curious, uncanny calm had settled over everything. Not a breath of air stirred, and the heat of the stagnant atmosphere was overpowering. The sun no longer shone clearly in a blue sky, but gleamed dully through a yellow haze that shed an unpleasant copper-coloured glow over everything.
"No, I don't like the look of it, either," declared Dickpa. "I only saw a sky like this once before, and—" His voice trailed away to silence, as if he preferred not to finish the sentence.
"Well, let's get this treasure aboard before we do anything else," exclaimed Algy, climbing aboard the Condor and pressing the self-starter.
The amphibian was taxied carefully across the plateau to the foot of the hill, and they all set off at a good pace up the path towards the summit. They had not reached half-way, however, when it became obvious that something was about to happen. The sun became completely obscured behind a red-brown fog that seemed to form in the air above them, and the landscape became overcast with a dull orange twilight. A steady drizzle of fine grit began to fall; it clogged their mouths and noses and made breathing difficult.
"Stop!" cried Dickpa suddenly.
"Stop nothing!" exclaimed Biggles. "I haven't come all this way for nothing"; and he broke into a sharp
trot. But he did not go far. A long, hollow booming sound filled the air with noise, and then, as if struck with a mighty hammer from below, the ground on which they stood jarred horribly and threw them off their feet. Rocks began to roll down the side of the hill and a cloud of yellow vapour appeared at its crest. Then a wave of choking sulphurous gas swept over them, half blinding them, and sending them staggering and reeling down the hill.
Biggles In The Cruise Of The Condor (02) Page 15
