Collected Fiction (1940-1963)

by William P. McGivern

  “We’ll be all right,” he said, “and maybe we’ll save the lieutenant and Red.”

  The lieutenant suddenly stood up and moved quickly toward the tail of the plane.

  “Come on, Red,” he said, speaking quickly. “This is it.”

  A moment later the plane scraped the tops of the highest trees, twisted slightly and then plowed straight ahead into a dense mass of foliage that snapped under its speed with a hissing scrape. It plunged groundward, sweeping a clean wide swash through the underbrush and finally settling with a rocking crash against the yielding mass of tangled jungle vines and foliage.

  Brilliantly plumaged birds wheeled from nearby trees and circled the spot with high piercing screams of terror, before streaking away into the bright dawn. A curious unnatural silence gradually settled over the wreckage of the once-trim plane . . .

  CHAPTER IV

  TINK held Jing tightly until the plane had come to its rocking swaying stop, then he looked down anxiously at the young lieutenant sprawled on the floor.

  The young man wasn’t hurt seriously. He had been thrown to the floor with the impact of the crash, but he was breathing, and even as Tink watched he raised himself with one hand and shook his head groggily.

  The cameraman, Red, was lying farther toward the rear of the plane and his eyes were closed and his face was a deathly white. Tink saw that his left leg was buckled under him at a twisted, unnatural angle.

  The lieutenant crawled slowly to his feet and stood upright, swaying slightly, his hands pressed to his forehead.

  “Is he all right?” Jing whispered.

  “He seems to be,” Tink said, “but the other one has a broken leg, I think.”

  The lieutenant knelt beside Red and felt his pulse. Then, with a relieved expression on his face, he stood up and stumbled toward the door. He opened it with difficulty, and climbed down to the thick, soft carpeting of jungle underbrush.

  The plane had fortunately landed in a small clearing and this had saved it from complete destruction. If it had crashed against one of the towering trees that bordered the clearing it would have been battered into a total wreck.

  Tink and Jing followed the lieutenant outside.

  “I wonder where Nastee is?” Jing asked.

  “We probably won’t see much of him,” Tink said. “He’ll be smart enough to keep out of my way for a while.”

  The young lieutenant staggered slowly to the middle of the clearing and looked helplessly about with bleak eyes. He put a hand to his forehead and shook his head slowly.

  “He doesn’t look very good,” Jing said. “Isn’t there something we could do for him?”

  The lieutenant turned slowly and started back for the plane but he hadn’t taken half a dozen steps before he staggered and dropped to one knee. He made an effort to rise, but his legs gave beneath him and he fell slowly forward on his face. He lay on the rotting floor of the jungle, motionless and inert, and for an instant Tink thought he was dead. But then he saw the slow, uneven rise and fall of his chest and he knew he still lived.

  “Oh, the poor man,” Jing cried. “We’ve got to do something for him.”

  They started across the clearing, but suddenly, to their left, a mighty rumbling roar sounded, and they froze in their tracks. There was a heavy rustling in the tangled underbrush that enclosed the little clearing, and then a great head appeared over the top of the brush, its great mouth opened wide and another thunderous roar rocked the ground.

  JING clung to Tink, trembling, as the underbrush parted and a mighty lion stalked slowly into the clearing, its red eyes intent on the motionless figure of the man lying on the ground.

  “What is it?” she asked fearfully.

  “I don’t know,” Tink said. “It’s awful big, isn’t it?”

  The lion paused for a second on the edge of the clearing, its tail lashing slowly and its little eyes flicking alertly from side to side. Then it trotted slowly across the clearing toward the lieutenant’s sprawled body.

  “Come on,” Tink said urgently.

  “What are you going to do?” Jing said, and her voice was almost a wail.

  “I—I don’t know,” Tink said. For once in his life he was completely stumped. Nothing in his experience had prepared him for a situation like this, but he knew he couldn’t just stand by and watch the lieutenant be devoured by this great beast.

  He started across the clearing running as fast as he could, but the lion reached the lieutenant before him. It paused for an instant sniffing the ground and then it put one huge paw on the lieutenant’s shoulder and turned him over. A deep rumble sounded in his throat and his tail lashed ominously as its little red eyes stared into the man’s white, still face.

  Tink and Jing reached the lieutenant’s side and Tink felt his courage deserting him as he stared incredulously at the size of the monstrous beast.

  He took an involuntary step backward and something sharp jabbed painfully into his back.

  “Ouch!” he cried.

  He looked around and saw that he had bumped into a long, shiny thorn. He rubbed his back ruefully, and then a sudden idea occurred to him. He pulled the thorn from the ground and regarded it with speculative eyes. It was almost twice as long as he was, and its thin hard point was as sharp as a needle.

  Jing was watching him anxiously.

  “What are you going to do?” she asked.

  Tink’s jaw was set firmly.

  “We’re going to attack!” he said grimly.

  “With thorns?” Jing asked incredulously.

  “It’s all we’ve got,” Tink said. “But,” he added, rubbing his back tenderly, “I think it might be enough.”

  He trotted toward the lion, and when he reached the beast’s massive forepaw he extended the thorn like a lance and drove forward, head lowered, with all his strength.

  The needle-sharp point dug into the lion’s tender paw with all of Tink’s weight behind it.

  The lion roared and lifted the paw into the air. His little eyes flickered with rage. Jing had decided on a rear attack and as the lion stood irresolutely on three feet, glaring in baffled anger about the clearing, she drove a thorn into his hind paw.

  THE lion wheeled, snarling wildly.

  His long tail lashed about and there were flecks of murderous rage in the close-set, red eyes. Tink backed slightly away and then dashed in again, imbedding the thorn in the same spot he had first attacked.

  The lion turned and its giant paw flicked out blindly, tearing the thorn from Tink’s hand. The impetus of the blow dumped Tink to the ground a dozen feet away. He crawled to his feet, dazed and bruised, and limped back to the attack.

  But the fight was over. Jing’s second thrust drove in between the lion’s claws and with a frightful roar the great beast bounded from the clearing.

  Tink hurried to Jing’s side.

  “Are you all right?” he asked anxiously.

  Jing was smiling widely.

  “I feel wonderful,” she said. Her face sobered as she glanced at the young lieutenant who was stirring slightly. “What are we going to do with him?” she asked.

  “I think he’s all right,” Tink said. “He just passed out from shock. When he comes to, he’ll feel better.”

  The lieutenant opened his eyes slowly and then struggled to a sitting position. He passed a hand dazedly over his forehead.

  “I must’ve blacked out,” he muttered. “Childish thing to do.” A frown creased his forehead. “I must’ve had a nightmare. I can still hear something ringing in my ears like a lion’s roar.”

  He crawled slowly to his feet and glanced around.

  “Just nerves, I guess,” he muttered. “There’s probably not a lion within a hundred miles.”

  Jing glanced at Tink and smiled. The lieutenant returned to the plane and came out a few minutes later carrying Red’s unconscious form. He stretched the young cameraman on the ground in the shade of the plane and loosened the tight collar. While he was holding a canteen of water to Red
’s lips the cameraman stirred and shook his head weakly from side to side. The water trickled down his neck.

  “What’s the idea?” he said, his voice a feeble whisper. But there was a faint grin at the edges of his pain-stiffened mouth.

  “How do you feel?” the lieutenant asked quietly.

  “Not so hot. I’d be better if you’d stop trying to drown me.”

  The lieutenant smiled. “Just saving you the bother of your Saturday night bath, that’s all.”

  Red glanced around the clearing. “Let’s cut the comedy,” he said. “Do we have any chance of getting out of here? Don’t soften the blow. If we’re sunk I can take it.”

  The lieutenant shrugged. “Can’t say, yet. We may be within range of allied reconnaissance planes. If so, we’ve got a fair chance of being spotted and picked up.”

  “Doesn’t sound too good to me,” Red said. “That ‘if’ is a little too large. Now, how about my leg?”

  “Is it bothering you much?”

  Red grinned whitely.

  “Not much.”

  “I can set it,” the lieutenant said. “And a couple of these saplings around here will make fine splints. So you haven’t got a thing to worry about.”

  “Wonderful,” Red said. “And how much food and water have we got.”

  “Plenty,” the lieutenant said. “Anyway,” he added wryly, “we’ve got some.”

  “Fine,” Red said. “Imagine! I thought we were in a tough spot and it turns out to be a flyer’s Valhalla. Better get busy on this leg, Doctor. I’ve got a date with a blonde tonight.”

  “Right away,” the lieutenant said.

  THE two leprechauns had crept close to listen, and now Jing turned worriedly to Tink and said, “We’ve got to do something to help these poor men. They won’t be able to stand it here more than a few days.”

  “That’s right,” Tink said, “but I don’t know what to do. Do you think we could find our way to an allied air field?” He shook his head and answered his own question. “No, that wouldn’t work.”

  “How long do you think they can last here?” Jing asked.

  Tink looked up at the sky and shook his head.

  “I don’t know,” he said moodily. “Well, we simply can’t disappoint that poor girl,” Jing said heatedly. “She’s expecting her lieutenant back and I intend to see that he gets back!”

  BUT four days later Jing’s confident resolve was fading with each passing hour. On the first day, an allied plane had flown overhead, but apparently the pilot hadn’t seen the lieutenant’s frantic signaling. Two days had passed since then, and there was no evidence of any rescue party.

  “Oh, Tink,” Jing said desperately, “we simply must do something!”

  “But what?” Tink said. He glanced across the clearing to the small lean-to which the lieutenant had built for Red. The cameraman was resting fairly comfortably in its shade, his splinted leg propped up on a pillow of moss. But the food and water situation was becoming critical. Tink knew that the lieutenant hadn’t been eating or drinking his share of the rations, but had given them to Red. Still there was only a crumb or two and a few drops of water left.

  It was evening of the fourth day when they heard the sudden, out-of-place sound of a motor reverberating through the drowsy stillness of the jungle. And a few minutes later they could hear the dry crackle of underbrush and the bouncing, jogging noise of a truck as it plodded its way through the tangled trail.

  The lieutenant appeared at the door of the plane, his face alight with hope. Red crawled out of his lean-to and waved joyfully at him.

  “Pack my grips,” he yelled. “I think I’m checking out of this hotel.”

  A second later the underbrush parted and the hood of a gray truck broke into the clearing. The truck stopped and the powerful cough of the motor faded into silence. A slim figure under a crash helmet slid from behind the wheel and dropped to the ground.

  “Hello there, Lieutenant Diggles,” a light voice called.

  The lieutenant was staring at the slim driver with dazed, incredulous eyes.

  “It’s a mirage,” he said hoarsely. “If

  I shut ray eyes it’ll go away.”

  “No it won’t. The air corps maintenance is a lot more substantial than you think,” the light, clear voice said.

  The driver pulled off the huge, cowled crash helmet and lustrous dark hair fell down in long waves. A pair of smiling eyes laughed at the lieutenant.

  “Ann Masterson at your service, Lieutenant Diggles,” the overalled driver said.

  CHAPTER V

  JING smiled happily as the lieutenant vaulted from the door of the plane and ran across the clearing to the girl’s side.

  “Darling!” he cried. “I can’t believe it’s really you.”

  He took her in his arms and kissed her impulsively.

  Ann put her hands on his shoulders and pushed him slightly away.

  “That should convince you,” she laughed.

  Red whistled approvingly.

  “Lady,” he yelled, “I don’t believe in you, either. Come on over here and convince these poor old eyes of mine.”

  “And he doesn’t mean eyes,” the lieutenant said. He grinned and shook her gently. “Come on now, honey, give! How’d you get here?”

  “It’s very simple,” Ann said. “The day after you left I received my orders, transferring me to an allied air base here in Tunisia. This was my first job. One of our reconnaissance planes spotted you two days ago and I was sent out with supplies and equipment. Our base is only about twenty-five miles from here, but I was the only one there the colonel could spare for this trip. It wasn’t a bit dangerous, because all of this territory is controlled by the Allies and we have the entire region under constant aerial reconnaissance.

  I’ve been in radio contact with the base since I left this morning, so they know I found you.”

  She glanced at the plane with competent, experienced eyes.

  “How are the chances of flying out?”

  “Fair,” the lieutenant said. “Provided you brought along the right parts, I can do the repairs.”

  “If it’s a chance,” the girl said, “I won’t take it. I can pile you all in the truck and have you back at the base in eight hours.”

  The lieutenant glanced in Red’s direction and then lowered his voice.

  “We’ll have to fly him out,” he said. “He couldn’t stand eight hours bouncing around in the back of a truck.”

  “I heard that,” Red suddenly cried belligerently, “and it’s a lot of nonsense. I’m not going to risk everybody’s neck just so I can be flown out of here on a rubber mattress. We’ll go back in the truck.”

  “We’ll go back as I see fit,” the lieutenant snapped. “I’m in command here.”

  “I’m sure I’ve got everything you’ll need,” the girl said. “But I don’t know if I’ve got enough gas. I’ve got some, but it will be barely enough to get us from here to the base if we take the plane.”

  “Well, that’s all we need,” the lieutenant said.

  “Shall we get to work on the repairs right away?” Arm said.

  THE lieutenant ran a hand through his dark hair and his teeth flashed whitely against the black stubble of his four-day’s beard.

  “Dou you bring along anything to eat?” he asked wistfully.

  “Why, certainly,” Ann smiled. “I have some canned broth, sandwiches, a thermos of coffee and even a pint of whiskey.”

  “Stop it!” Red begged, holding both hands to his ears. “I can’t bear to hear those things mentioned.”

  “I think we’d better eat first and then tackle our repair job,” the lieutenant said.

  Tink and Jing went aboard the plane while the lieutenant, Ann and Red were eating, and in one of the dark corners of the cabin Tink stumbled unexpectedly upon Nastee.

  Nastee crouched in the corner as Tink stared down at him, hands resting belligerently on his hips.

  “So,” he said, “This is where you’ve
been hiding.”

  “I haven’t been hiding,” Nastee said. He glanced warily from Tink to Jing. “You aren’t mad at me, are you?” His eyes met Jing’s in a mute plea for sympathy. “I froze my left ear out on that wing, you know.”

  “It serves you just right,” Jing said. “Aren’t you ashamed of all the trouble you’ve caused these poor people?” Nastee started to reply, but Tink cut him short.

  “Nastee isn’t ashamed of anything he did,” he said. “But he’d lie and say he was, to save his own skin. You’re lucky everything’s turned out all right or you’d have me on your neck for life, because this time I’m really mad.”

  “Did everything turn out all right?” Nastee asked cautiously.

  “Yes,” Tink said grimly. “A unit from an allied field just arrived with food and supplies. The plane will be ready to take-off in a day or so.”

  Nastee looked humbly at the floor. “That’s good,” he said, sighing heavily.

  Cut it out,” Tink said disguestedly. “Your acting isn’t impressing anyone.” He turned to Jing decisively. “While we have him here I think we ought to make sure he doesn’t cause any more trouble. Let’s lock him in the machine gun breech until we reach the allied field.”

  But Jing’s eyes had softened as Nastee looked pleadingly at her.

  “I think this time he’s learned his lesson, Tink,” she said. “Let’s give him another chance.”

  “All right,” Tink said grimly, “but no more monkey business or into the gun breech you go.”

  “I’ll be good,” Nastee said humbly.

  “I doubt it,” Tink said.

  “You’re just too callous, Tink,” Jing said, coming to Nastee’s defense.

  Tink shrugged helplessly.

  “Maybe the lieutenant was right,” he muttered.

  “About what?” Jing asked.

  “About women in war time,” Tink said. “They should be home baking bread while the men do the fighting.”

  Jing sniffed. “You’re just as vain and unreasonable as all men.”

  “All right,” Tink sighed, “let’s don’t argue about it.”