Biggles and Cruise of the Condor

by W E Johns

  'I can't watch it, I'm getting dizzy,' muttered Biggles in an undertone. 'We had better go and see that our things are all right while they are fighting it out. We can't do anything here, that's certain.'

  They hurried back to the hammocks and the pile of tinned provisions which they had taken from the machine, but there was no cause for alarm. They were just as they had left them, and not a sign of an ant anywhere.

  'I'm glad that first lot decided to go for the machine and not us,' mused Biggles. 'Fancy waking up in the middle of the night to find that lot crawling over you. Pah!'

  'Hist! Look!' It was Dickpa's turn to utter a startled exclamation, but it was quickly followed with a smile. 'That fellow knows how to cope with ants better than we do,' he whispered.

  'What is it?' breathed Algy, staring at a dark animal with a long snout that had appeared beside the machine.

  'Ant-eater—lives on ants—breakfast, lunch, and dinner; look at his tongue. He's got a long strip of a tongue covered with sticky stuff. Usually he sticks it in the ants' nest, and, when it has collected a nice coating of ants, he pulls it out and swallows them. He's having the time of his life there—just look at him. There's another of them, by Jove!'

  There was no doubt that the ant-eaters were having a wonderful time among the ants, but even they could make little impression on so great a number.

  'I believe the little fellows are driving the saubas off alright,' observed Algy excitedly, approaching the machine cautiously.

  It was true. Not only were the big ants retiring precipitately, but the smaller ones were following them, passing straight over the machine in their line of march.

  'I think we might try to get the Condor away now,' said Dickpa. 'The big fellows might come back or another lot come along. If we could get a rope round her tail we might drag her out into the open.'

  'Where are we going to put her if we do?' asked Algy.

  'In the brook, with her wheels in the water,' replied Biggles quickly. 'That's the only place I can think of, anyway. But there, if we do, I suppose it will be attacked by a swarm of those devilish fish—what did you call them, Dickpa?'

  'Pirhanas. No, they're not likely to bother it,' laughed Dickpa. 'Come on, then; it will be warm work dragging her across the open, but it can't be helped. I can't think why I overlooked the possibility of ants getting in the machine,' he went on apologetically as they quickly tied the hammock-ropes together into a handy length of line. 'I remember warning you in England that we might be inconvenienced by ants.'

  'Inconvenienced!' laughed Biggles. 'You were right there. But I hope they haven't done any damage,' he added, becoming serious.

  The tail of the amphibian was neatly lassoed and lifted, and Biggles quickly slipped another line around the tail-skid. 'Haul away, but not too fast!' he shouted, and ran round to the nose of the machine, from where he directed operations, occasionally giving the hull a push where it was clear of ants, for isolated battles were still being waged at various points.

  The movement of the machine seemed to expedite their evacuation, however, and a cheer of relief was raised when the last combatants fell, still struggling, to the ground. For nearly an hour the airmen toiled and sweltered in the heat, for the sun was now well up, before they reached the bank of the stream at its nearest point, which was only a few hundred yards from the place where it skirted the cliff in which the cave was situated.

  'Steady now!' called Biggles, taking a spade from the cabin and clearing a smooth wheel-track down to the water, which was not more than a few inches deep. A few shrubs and saplings had to be cleared to allow the wide wing span of the Condor to pass, and then the big machine was allowed to glide gently down into the water, where it was turned facing the current, the water just lapping around the bottom of the fuselage.

  'We had better cut some small stuff and cover the wings, like we did before,' suggested Biggles. 'It's quite on the boards that the other crowd may come this way looking for us, and we can't afford to risk them seeing her. Luckily they've only got a flying-boat, so they couldn't land here, anyway, but if they saw her they would probably march overland. That will do, I think,' he went on a few minutes later, when the wings and tail had been well strewn with reeds and small branches. 'She ought to be safe here—if there is such a thing as a safe place in Brazil,' he added, with a sly glance at Dickpa.

  'There isn't,' was the old explorer's frank reply.

  'That's what I was beginning to think,' retorted Biggles, grinning. 'Well, let's have a bit of breakfast. I think we've earned it.'

  'Yes, let's get on with it,' agreed Dickpa. 'I was hoping yesterday that we should be behind the wall in the cave by this time today.'

  'It doesn't do to hope too much in the Matto Grosso,' observed Biggles, with his mouth full of biscuit. 'The only thing I have yet seen in Brazil that is any good is this,' he went on, indicating a mug of steaming coffee at his side. 'I must say they grow pretty good coffee; but, now I come to think of it, I haven't seen any Brazil nuts. Somewhere in the back of my mind I had an idea that Brazil nuts came from Brazil.'

  'Ha, ha!' laughed Dickpa.

  'Well, they do, don't they?' protested Biggles.

  'Of course, but not in this part, and you don't pick them like filberts, you know; but come on, we're wasting time.'

  The cooking and eating utensils were soon cleaned in the sand on the bank of the stream, and stowed away in the cabin. Water-bottles were filled and haversacks stuffed with food and articles likely to be of service in the cave, such as a flashlight, matches, and so on. Just as they were leaving, Biggles untied the rope that was still tied to the Condor's tail-skid, and, coiling it neatly, threw it over his shoulder. 'I think I'll bring this along; it may come in handy,' he observed casually.

  In such simple actions does Fate show her hand.

  With cheerful smiles and the thrill of the treasure-hunt upon them, they strode off gaily in the direction of the cave.

  Chapter 12

  Trapped

  They found the tools and the entrance of the cave exactly as they had left them, so they were able to make their way without delay to the face of the wall that barred their progress. On reaching it, Dickpa balanced the flashlight on a stone in such a manner that its rays were directed on the middle of the wall, and Biggles, placing his haversack and water-bottle on the ground behind them, picked up a hammer and cold chisel.

  'What do you think is the best way of setting about it?' he asked Dickpa in perplexity, examining the smooth face of the wall closely. 'I wish I knew how thick it was.'

  'We shall just have to chisel away until we get one stone out; after that it should be possible to prise the others out. We needn't pull the whole wall down; all we need is a hole big enough to crawl through,' observed Dickpa.

  Biggles set to work with a will, and at the end of ten minutes had succeeded in making a good-sized concave hole in the centre stone. He handed the tools to Algy with a, 'Carry on; it's warm work,' and Algy, flinging his jacket aside, proceeded with the task. Suddenly he paused in the middle of a stroke and stepped back hastily.

  'What's wrong?' asked Biggles with some concern.

  'I don't quite know,' muttered Algy. 'I don't know whether it's because I'm getting giddy in the dark, but I thought I felt the whole wall quiver, as if it was being shaken. Oh, lor', I'm going to be sick. I'm giddy.' With his arm resting on the wall, he turned to stare at Biggles, who had staggered and nearly measured his length on the floor.

  A dull murmur, like distant thunder, reached their ears and brought Biggles to his feet with a rush. 'What is it?' he gasped.

  At the first sound Dickpa had leapt for the flashlight. 'Quick,' he snapped, as the floor of the cave sagged sickeningly. 'Get out—it's an earthquake! Ah—stop!' he screamed.

  There came a deafening roar from somewhere down the tunnel up which they had come, and the air was filled with a cloud of choking, blinding dust. The sides of the cave quivered like jelly, and a few pieces of rock fell from the roof
with a crash; then all was still again.

  Dickpa was still holding the flashlight. 'Stand where you are,' he said in a dull voice, and disappeared into the darkness. He was back almost at once. 'The whole tunnel has caved in,' was all he said, and then sat down on the floor.

  It was some time before anyone spoke. Then, 'I suppose there's no chance of breaking through?' said Biggles in a strained voice.

  'None whatever. The whole roof has closed down on to the floor,' replied Dickpa quietly.

  There was another long silence, which was broken by Algy. 'How long do you think the air in here will last?' he said in a curiously calm voice.

  'There's no telling; a few hours at the most, I should think,' came Dickpa's voice from behind the flashlamp.

  'Well, let's do something,' exclaimed Biggles irritably, picking up the hammer and chisel that Algy had dropped. 'It's no use just sitting here—we shall all go crazy.' He flung himself upon the wall in a fury, cutting out pieces from the central stone, regardless of the chips, that flew in all directions.

  'There doesn't seem to be much object—' began Dickpa, but Biggles cut him short.

  'I always try to finish what I start. I came here to see Mr. Atta-somebody's treasure. Alright; my motto is, "Atta boy" while I have the strength to stand up.'

  'I'm very sorry about this,' began Dickpa again.

  Biggles threw the tools down and crossed over to him quickly. 'I know how you feel, Dickpa,' he said gently. 'You're blaming yourself for getting us in this mess. Well, don't. We came on this show with our eyes wide open, all of us, Algy, Smyth, and myself, the same as we've done all the other shows we've been on. We've been in tight corners before today. Many's the time I've said to myself, "Biggles, you're a goner," but I've got away with it every time up to now. There may be another earthquake any minute which will open the cave again. Anything can happen in Brazil—you've said it yourself. Anyway, whatever happens, don't blame yourself unless you want us all to sit down and bleat—that's right, isn't it, Algy?'

  'Absolutely,' replied Algy instantly.

  Biggles picked up the tools and again attacked the wall, whistling cheerfully between strokes.. Perspiration poured from his face, but still he worked on.

  'Here, let me have a go,' said Algy, who was watching him.

  'You start on a hole of your own if you want one. This one's mine,' grinned Biggles, with a gallant attempt at humour that deceived no one.

  The time passed on leaden wings, and Biggles's strokes became slower and weaker. 'Getting warmish,' he observed, after a long silence.

  No one answered. They knew the air in their living tomb was rapidly becoming vitiated. The oxygen was nearly exhausted. Biggles stopped work and leaned against the wall, nearly spent, his breath coming in short gasps. He saw that Dickpa had fallen against the side of the cave; Smyth was on his knees, struggling for breath. Turning, he scowled at the hole he had made in the wall. 'Beaten me after all, have you?' he gritted through his teeth. 'Well, hold that!' and he flung the hammer at it with all his might in a fit of fighting rage.

  The hammer disappeared from sight; there was a slight clatter as it fell some distance away out of sight. For a moment Biggles stared unbelievingly, and then leapt at the wall, groping frantically for the hole that he knew must be there. A current of cool, sweet air poured over his streaming face like a draught of cold water. His shrill yell, 'Air,' aroused Algy from his lethargy, and, reeling unsteadily, he staggered to the hole and swallowed deep gasping mouthfuls of the life-giving oxygen. Then he helped Biggles to get Dickpa toward the hole, but the fresh air had already flooded the chamber and Dickpa opened his eyes before they reached it. 'What is it?' he said feebly.

  'We've struck air.'

  'Air?'

  'Yes, I busted through the wall at the last moment and fresh air is coming in from the other side of it. Whether it is just a supply that was there before the cave fell in, or whether there is an opening somewhere ahead, remains to be seen, but it gives us another chance. We've got to get a hole in that wall big enough to get through. Have a go at it, Algy,' he concluded, turning his hands palms outwards towards the light.

  An exclamation of sympathy broke from the lips of the others, for Biggles's hands, which were small and delicate, were now blistered and raw as a result of his labour at the wall. 'Funny, funny, and I never even noticed it,' he laughed. 'It's queer how minor hurts cease to matter when one is faced with a big one. That's the stuff, boy.'

  This last remark was addressed to Algy, who had picked up the chisel, and, under the impetus of renewed hope, set about enlarging the hole, hacking savagely at the edges. Smyth, too, had picked up a steel mooring-pin that they had brought with them and was prising away at the corners. But the wall, as Dickpa had pointed out, was a work of art, each block of stone having been cut to fit the aperture for which it was intended, and even then appeared to have been literally 'ground in,' like the valve of an engine, so perfectly did it fit. It was about two feet in thickness, but it slowly succumbed to the onslaught of the fresh attack. Two more stones were dislodged after having been partly hewn away, and Dickpa called a halt, pointing out that the breach was now large enough to admit them.

  Biggles put his head and shoulders through the hole and stared into the pitch blackness. 'Pass me the flashlight,' he said.

  'Well, what can you see?' asked Dickpa impatiently, for the others were unable to reach the hole, which Biggles's body almost filled.

  'Nothing,' came the disappointed answer. 'Not a blooming thing—except rock; and there's plenty of that.'

  'What?' exclaimed Dickpa incredulously. 'Nothing?'

  'There's no treasure, if that's what you mean, but it looks as if the cave goes right on, which is something, anyway. Pass the tools and things along. We can't go back, so we've no choice but to go forward.'

  Biggles disappeared through the hole, and, after the tools and equipment had been handed through, the others joined him. They found that the cave widened considerably behind the wall, as if it had been enlarged by human hands.

  'It certainly looks as if we've drawn a blank,' observed Dickpa. ' "And when they got there the cupboard was bare," so to speak,' he quoted sadly. 'I must confess I am very disappointed; not that it seems to matter very much now. The treasure wouldn't be much good to us even if we found it. Well, it isn't here, so that's the end of it.'

  'I don't know so much,' replied Biggles slowly. He was running his hands carefully over the inside of the wall, and presently he struck a match and peered closely at it. 'Now I'll tell you something,' he muttered in a voice that trembled slightly. 'This wall wasn't built from the other side at all-I mean the way we came in. It was built from this side. This wall was built because the priests-or whoever they were-knew about the back door that opened on to the stream and they decided to block it up. They probably went down there for fresh air and water while they were building. That's about it,' he went on excitedly. 'It was on such an occasion that some silly ass amused himself by doing a little rock-carving practice, or maybe it wasn't just carelessness after all. The fellow concerned might have had an idea at the back of his mind of coming round to the back door when the job was done and helping himself to the odd spot of gold. That's just the sort of thing some crafty priest might have done. There are all sorts of clefts and caves in these mountains-at least, so you've told us-so naturally it would be a wise precaution to mark the only one that really mattered.'

  'And it looks as if some scrimshanker was already pilfering the treasure,' suggested Dickpa. 'He must have dropped that piece of gold I found. But do you realize what it means?'

  'Of course I do,' broke in Biggles. 'It means that the people who built the wall must have gone out the way they came. In other words, there is a way out into the open air somewhere ahead up the cave, and that's about as much as I'm concerned with at the moment. Once let me clap my peepers on blue sky again, and I shall think twice before I start burrowing underground again. I'm no mole.'

  'You're dead r
ight about the wall!' exclaimed Dickpa, who was examining it minutely in the beam of the flashlamp and comparing it with the other side. 'The joints are not quite so close. The rocks are cut slightly wedge-shape and then driven in like a plug in a barrel. No wonder it was air-tight.'

  'That's what I thought,' agreed Biggles. 'But dash the wall! I've seen enough of it. Let's get a move on and see where the cave leads to. I'm pining to see the sky again.'

  They picked up their bags, and, with Biggles leading the way with the flashlight, they filed up the narrow passage.

  'Hullo, what's this?' he cried suddenly, after they had gone a short distance. 'Steps, by James, steps! What do you know about that? It strikes me that this might still be the way to Attaboy's old oak chest!'

  'Atahuallpha,' snapped Dickpa irritably.

  But Biggles wasn't listening. He gave a grunt of disappointment as the short flight of steps ended abruptly and they found themselves in a similar passage to the one below. They went on slowly, and presently came to more steps.

  'Phew!' muttered Biggles, when they reached the top and saw the tunnel stretching away in front of them again. 'I must have a drink; this is heavy going.'

  'You notice that we are going up all the time?' Dickpa pointed out. 'The floor of the cave slopes upwards all the way. It looks to me as if they cut these steps at the most difficult places- where there was a sudden drop-to save using ropes.'

  'It looks that way to me,' agreed Biggles, as they again resumed their march.

  The cave seemed interminable. In places the ceiling was so high that the flashlight failed to reveal the roof, and at others it was so low that they had to stoop to pass. Steps occurred frequently; sometimes only two or three, sometimes twenty or more, and on one occasion there were so many that they lost count. And all the time the floor of the cave rose steeply upwards. In one place, however, Biggles nearly had a nasty fall, for there was a sudden unexpected flight of steep steps leading downwards, and he only saw them just as he was stepping off into space.