He told Dusky his plan, and the old man agreed, so after waiting for a little while to give Bogat a start, they once more took up the trail.
Biggles of course had not the remotest idea of where they were going, nor even if they were travelling north or south, for the green jungle hemmed them in on both sides, and overhead. Nor, for a long time, did Dusky know; but eventually the trail crossed another which he recognised as one he had used when collecting chicle for the Tiger.
Ì reckon Bogat go to de Tiger's village,' he announced. `But that's up in the mountains,'
Biggles pointed out. Dusky nodded. 'Sure. By-um-by we come to old ruins at bottom of steps. Maybe Bogat stop dere; maybe he go up steps to de king.'
`You're sure you know where we are?'
`Yes, I'se sure, massa.'
`How far is it from here to the foot of the steps?'
`Half an hour's march—maybe a little more, or less.'
Ìf we're as close as that, then there must be a risk of our running into some of Bogat's Indians, chicle-collectors, or labourers.'
`Tha's right, massa.'
Ìn that case we'd better stay here and do a bit of thinking. Let's find a place where we can hide until it gets dark.'
Dusky turned aside from the trail and soon found a sheltered retreat.
Here they remained until the light, always dim beneath the towering tree-tops, turned to the gloom of evening. They saw no one, and heard nothing except the natural sounds of the forest. Once, a panther, as black as midnight, slunk past with twitching tail; it saw them, and its baleful yellow eyes glowed, but it made no attempt to attack them, and Biggles was relieved to see it pass on.
Dusky shivered. `Dat's de debbil,' he muttered nervously. `Forget it, Dusky. Devil or no devil, I warrant that he'd find
an expanding bullet from this rifle a nasty pill to take.' `He put a spell on you, den you can't shoot.'
`He won't put any spell on me, I'll promise you,' returned Biggles lightly.
Ì reckon you don't believe in spells, massa?'
`No, I don't,' answered Biggles shortly.
`Den you watch out dem big snakes dey call anaconda don't get you. Why, everyone knows dey bewitch folds.' Dusky shivered again.
Ì've heard that tale before, but I should have to see it before I believed it,' murmured Biggles cynically.
`Maybe if you stay in, de forest long enough, you see,' whispered Dusky knowingly.
Biggles did not pursue the subject, and nothing more was said for some time.
`You know, massa,' said Dusky after a long silence, 'I reckon de gang don't work down here no longer. You remember I said about de gang working at de bottom of de steps?'
`What makes you think they've gone?'
`Cos I don't hear nothing. Dem boys would sure be hollerin `Hollering? Why?'
`When Bogat's men crack dere whips on dere backs.'
Ì see. How can we make sure? Shall I go and have a scout round?'
Not you, massa,' said Dusky quickly. 'I go. I don't make no noise. You stay right here. I find out what's going on.' `You're sure you'll be able to find me again?'
`Sure, massa. Dere's a wide stretch of savannah just ahead—I go dat way.'
Àll right,' Biggles agreed, somewhat reluctantly, and Dusky glided away, to be quickly lost in the shadows of the primeval
forest.
An hour passed, so Biggles judged, and he began to get worred, for it was now quite dark, and he was by no means certain—in spite of Dusky's assurance—that the old man would be able to find him again.
As time went on and there was still no sign of him, Biggles became definitely concerned.
He stood up and whistled softly, but there was no reply. Something—he could not see what—slithered away in the undergrowth.
Staring in the direction which Dusky had taken Biggles became aware of an eerie blue glow, but taking a few paces forward, he soon solved the mystery. It was moonlight shimmering on a thin mist that had formed in an open glade, evidently the savannah to which Dusky had referred. He was about to turn back to the rendezvous, for he had no intention of leaving it, when a movement on the edge of the blue light caught his eye. It was, he saw from the shape of the object, a human being. Moving quickly but quietly to the edge of the clearing, he saw, as he hoped, that it was Dusky; but what the old man was doing he could not imagine. His movements were peculiar. With his arms held out in front of him, and his head thrown back, he was walking slowly across the savannah, step by step, towards the middle of it, in the uncertain manner of a person walking in his sleep.
As Biggles watched this strange scene he became aware of a queer musty smell that reminded him vaguely of something, but he could not remember what it was. At the same time he was assailed by a sensation of impending danger far stronger than anything he had ever before experienced. It was so acute that he could feel his nerves tingle, and presently beads of perspiration began to form on his forehead. This was something new to him, but his response was irritation rather than fear—perhaps because he could not see anything to cause alarm. Alert for the first sign of danger, walking softly, he moved forward on a line that would intercept Dusky somewhere about the middle of the savannah.
He could still see nothing to account for it, but as he advanced his sensations approached more nearly to real fear than he could ever recall. The only object that he could see, apart from the surrounding vegetation, was what appeared to be a black mound rising above the rough grass, and it was towards this that Dusky was stepping with slow, mechanical strides. A sudden suspicion darted into Biggles's brain, and he increased his pace, and even as he did so the mound moved. Something in the centre of it rose up sinuously, and remained poised. It was the head of a snake, but of such a size that Biggles's jaw dropped in sheer amazement.
For a moment he could only stare, thunderstruck, while the great flat head began to sway, slowly, with hideous grace, Then Biggles understood, and, with knowledge, power returned to his limbs.
`Dusky!' he shouted hoarsely.
But he might have remained silent for all the notice the old man took.
`Dusky!' he shouted again. 'Stop!'
The old man continued to walk forward, arms outstretched, as though to embrace a friend.
A cry of horror broke from Biggles's lips, and he dashed forward. At a distance of ten paces from the mound, which he saw was coil after coil of snake, he halted, and raising his rifle, tried to take aim. Perspiration was pouring down his face. The stench was now overpowering. The mist caused the target to dance before his eyes, yet he knew that it would be worse than useless to fire blindly into the body of the creature. It must be the head or nothing.
To make sure, there was only one thing to do, and he did it. He ran in close, took deliberate aim at the squat head now turning towards him, and fired.
In the silent forest the crash of the explosion sounded like the crack of doom. It was followed, first, by a wild scream from Dusky, who fell flat on his face, and, secondly, by a series of furious smashing thuds, as if a tornado was flinging down the mighty trees.
The mound was no longer there; instead, the centre of the clearing was occupied by seemingly endless coils which, with insensate fury, threshed and looped over and among the rank grass. The end of one such loop caught Biggles in the back and sent him spinning, but he was up again in an instant; waiting only to recover the rifle, which had been knocked out of his hands, he caught Dusky by the scruff of the neck and dragged him like an empty sack towards the edge of the jungle. Behind him, the crashing and thumping continued with unabated fury, and he recalled vaguely having read somewhere that even ifit is decapitated, the anaconda, the great snake of the Central American forests, may take twenty-four hours to die.
Dusky began to howl, so Biggles stopped and dragged him to his feet. 'Shut up,' he snapped. 'You're not hurt.'
Òh, massa, oh, massa, I thought dat ole snake had got me,' moaned Dusky.
`Come on, let's get out of this,' growled Biggles
, who, to his disgust, was more unnerved
than he would have cared to admit.
Dusky, with many a nervous backward glance, followed him obediently back to the rendezvous.
`What made you go blundering towards the snake as if you were crazy?' inquired Biggles, half angrily, half curiously. Ì didn't see no snake, massa,'
answered Dusky weakly. `Then how did you know it was there?'
Ì dunno, massa. I just knew, that's all.'
`So you went up to it? What were you going to do—play with it?' sneered Biggles.
Ì just couldn't help going,' protested Dusky. 'De snake called me, and I went. I told you dem ole snakes bewitch folks.'
`Well, that one won't do any more bewitching,' replied Biggles crisply. He knew it was useless to argue with the old man, for nothing would shake his inherent conviction that he had been bewitched. Indeed, Biggles, to his annoyance, had an uneasy feeling that there might be something in the superstition after all, for he himself had been conscious of a sensation for which he could not account.
He could still hear the dying monster flinging itself about in the savannah, but he knew there was nothing more to be feared from it.
`Come on, Dusky, pull yourself together,' he exclaimed. 'I've blown the snake's head off, so it can't hurt you now. I only hope that my shot was not heard by Bogat or the Tiger.
Are you feeling better?'
Dusky drew a deep breath, 'Yes, massa,' he said shakily, Tse better now. But dat ole snakèForget about it,' snapped Biggles.
`Yes, massa.'
`Were you on your way back?'
`Yes, massa.'
`Then you've been to the bottom of the steps?' What did you discover?'
`Just like I said, massa—dey's gone.'
`Gone? What do you mean?'
Dusky explained that he had been right up to the foot of the stairway, to the spot where, at the time of his escape, he had been forced to dig with the gang working among the ruins. These diggings were now abandoned except for one old man who had been left in charge of a store-shed. This old fellow was well known to Dusky; he was one of the forced labourers, and consequently had no love for his taskmasters. For this reason Dusky had not hesitated to reveal himself; but except for the fact that everyone, including the newly captured white men, had gone to some distant place far up the stairway to dig in some fresh ruins, he knew nothing.
Ìf he said distant place, it rather looks as if they've gone right up to the top—to the plateau where we landed the machine,' said Biggles thoughtfully. 'There are some ruins up there, as we know. Had they only gone to the valley where the king's house is situated, he would have said so.'
Dusky agreed.
`Then we shall have to go up there, too,' announced Biggles. `We get captured fo' sure,'
muttered Dusky dubiously.
Ì can't see any alternative,' continued Biggles. 'We can't just sit here and do nothing—they might be up there for months.' `How about de airplane?'
suggested Dusky.
`That's no use. We couldn't land on the plateau without being seen or heard. No, Dusky, I'm afraid it means going up on foot, but you needn't come if you don't want to.'
Ì don't want to, but I'll come,' offered the old man courageously.
Biggles thought for a moment. 'I'll tell you what, though. I shall be pretty conspicuous in these clothes. If I could make myself look a bit more like one of the workmen I might be taken for a slave if we are seen. Is there any chance of getting an old pair of blue pantaloons, like those you wear?'
Dusky thought he could get a pair at the store-shed. `That old man won't betray us, I hope?'
`No, sah,' declared Dusky emphatically. 'He like the rest, be glad if you killed de Tiger so dey can all go back to de coast. He'll help us. I make your face brown with berries, den you look like a no-good Indian.'
Biggles smiled in the darkness. 'That's a good idea. Let's start. There will be less chance of our being seen if we travel by night. Can you find your way to the store-shed? I can't see a blessed thing.'
`You foller me, massa; I show you,' said Dusky simply.
They set off Dusky was never at fault, but the darkness was such that progress was necessarily slow, and it was some time before they reached the foot of the steps, where, in the store-shed, the old watchman crouched over a smouldering fire. He made no difficulty about finding a pair of ragged pantaloons, and this was the only garment Biggles put on. Really, in the steamy heat of the jungle, he was glad of an excuse to discard his own clothes, which the watchman hid under a pile of stones. Without guessing how much was to depend on them, Biggles transferred his cigarettes and matches to the pocket of his new trousers.
He was in some doubt about the rifle, for it was obvious that he could not carry it without it being seen. In the end he decided to take it, even if it became necessary to hide it somewhere later on. His automatic he strapped to his thigh, under his trousers.
Meanwhile, Dusky and the old watchman, taking a torch, had gone into the forest, and presently returned with a load of red berries. These were boiled in an iron pot, and after the liquid had cooled Biggles more or less gave himself a bath in it. Fortunately, he could not see himself, or he might have been alarmed at the change, for instead of being white he was now the colour of coffee.
Thanking the watchman, and promising him deliverance from servitude in the near future, Biggles and Dusky set off on their long climb up Jacob's Ladder.
They came first to the valley in which the village was situated; but all was silent, so they wasted no time there. Continuing on up the steps, they found themselves just below the summit about two hours before dawn—as near as Biggles could judge.
Here he turned off into a narrow ravine, for he was tired to the point of exhaustion.
Dusky appeared to suffer no such inconvenience, and offered to keep watch while he, Biggles, had a short sleep, an offer that Biggles accepted, and ordered Dusky to wake him at the first streak of dawn.
He appeared to have done no more than close his eyes when Dusky was shaking him by the shoulder. Before dropping off to
sleep he had made his plan, and this he now put into execution.
`You're going to stay here,' he told Dusky. 'You can take charge of the biscuits and the rifle and wait until I come back. If I'm not back within forty-eight hours you can reckon that I've been caught, in which case try to make your way to the coast and let Mr.
Carruthers know what's happened. All being well, I shall be back here, with the others, before very long. Keep under cover.'
With this parting injunction, Biggles went back to the steps, and after a cautious reconnaissance moved on towards the top. He now proceeded with the greatest care; and it was as well that he did, for while he was still a hundred feet from the top he was mortified to see a man sitting on a rock, a rifle on his arm, obviously doing duty as sentry. To pass him without being seen was clearly impossible, so Biggles, after exploring the cliff on his left for the best place, scaled it, and went on through a chaos of rocks towards the plateau. Guided now by distant shouts, and the occasional crack of a whip, he worked his way forward, and presently, as he hoped, found himself in a position overlooking the plateau.
To his right, perhaps a hundred yards away, sat the sentry at the head of the stairway.
With this man he was not particularly concerned—at any rate, for the time being.
Immediately in front, and slightly below, lay the ruined village. Here a gang of men was working with picks and shovels, or carrying away baskets of earth. Altogether, there were about forty workmen, and Biggles had no difficulty in picking out Algy, Ginger and the stranger. They were working close together. Watching the gang were six guards, standing in pairs. They carried rifles. Another man, an enormous Indian, walked amongst the labourers swishing a vicious-looking whip. Not far away, in the shade of a ruined house, squatted the Tiger and his two white companions. Close behind them stood two natives in tawdry uniforms; they also carried rifles, an
d were evidently a sort of bodyguard. Beyond, shimmering in the heat of the morning sun, the plateau lay deserted.
For some time Biggles lay still, surveying the scene thought..
fully. A big patch of grotesque prickly pear attracted his attention, and he saw that if he moved along a little to the left he could use this as a screen to cover an advance into the village. Once among the houses, it should, he thought, be possible to get right up to the gang of workmen, and so make contact with Algy and Ginger—which was his main object. Beyond that he had no definite plan.
Like a scouting Indian he backed down from his elevated position and began working his way towards the prickly pear.
I2
GINGER GETS SOME SHOCKS
WHEN Algy, Ginger and Eddie had been marched off through the forest by Bogat they did not know where they were being taken, but, naturally, they could make a good guess.
Unless Bogat had some scheme of his own, it seemed probable that they would be taken to the Tiger. This suspicion was practically confirmed when they reached the foot of the stairway. Two hours later, utterly worn out, and in considerable discomfort from insect bites and scratches, they were standing before the King of the Forest, who eyed them with undisguised satisfaction.
In his heart, Ginger expected nothing less than a death sentence, but that was because he did not realise the value of labour in the tropics, particularly white labour, which is always better than native work. It was, therefore, with relief that the received the news that they were to be put in the slave-gang. Algy, being older, perceived that this was, in fact, little better than a death sentence; that without proper food, clothes and medical treatment, they were unlikely to survive long in a climate which sapped the vitality even of the natives. However, he agreed with Ginger's optimistic observation that while they were alive there was hope; for, after all, Biggles was still at large. Whether or not he would ever learn what had happened to them was another matter. They were not to know that Dusky had been a witness of the attack.
25 Biggles In The Jungle Page 10
