"Leave him to me," returned Biggles significantly, tapping his pistol.

So far things had gone without a hitch, but Biggles knew that this could hardly be expected to continue. The progress of the float towards the bank was painfully slow. Out of the corner of his eye he watched the path leading to the lodge, and a minute later he was not surprised to see a group of men run into view. Some were running fast, some not so fast, with the result that by the time they reached the gate in the fence they were strung out. Biggles noted that they were all white men. But now, behind them, appeared a score or more of blacks, a few carrying rifles, but most of them brandishing spears. They ran so fast that they rapidly overhauled the white men.

Stephan, of course, had seen what the others had seen, and now for the first time he appeared to become suspicious.

His eyes, parted only by a frown, went from Biggles to Tug, and back to Biggles. His body stiffened.

"Who are you? " he asked in a high-pitched voice, as his suspicions mounted rapidly.

191 "You'll learn," answered Biggles evenly.

Shouts that carried a warning now floated down from the oncoming crowd. Stephan, his eyes darting from Tug to Biggles, began to back away. His right hand went to his hip pocket.

The muzzle of Biggles' gun, held low, jerked up. " Take it easy," he warned. " Don't try anything silly."

Stephan drew a deep breath. "Cops, eh?" he rasped, understanding leaping into his eyes.

"You've got it, brother," Tug told him without emotion.

The mechanic made a desperate leap for the powerhouse door, either with the intention of taking cover, or switching off the dynamo, or both. In either case Biggles dare not risk it happening. He had given a warning. There was no need to repeat it. His autoomatic cracked, spurting flame.

Stephan swayed, stumbled, collided with the engineeroom wall and clawed at it with one hand whIle the other dragged at a revolver half in and half out of his pocket. ...

Biggles' lips came together in a thin line. Again he raised the pistol. But before he could fire the mechanic had lurched sideways; he missed his footing, and with a scream of mortal fear fell with a terrific splash into the lake.

Biggles ran to the spot, but before he could do any,,thing there was a vicious swirl. A great gnarled tail broke surface for a moment before gliding into the depths. Of Stephan there was no sign. Only ripples marked the spot where he had disappeared. They lapped gently on the sh.o.r.e.

Biggles turned pale but said nothing. What had happened was all too plain.

192 [image]

"You've had it, chum," breathed Tug, still staring at the spot. "But you certainly asked for it."

A shot rang out and a bullet smacked against the power-house. Biggles glanced quickly up the track and saw that the blacks were dangerously close. " You'll have to hold them off, Tug, while I get Ginger out," he ordered, clipping his words. "Shoot straight up the corridor-that should steady them. They can't get out of it and they've no cover." Then, to Ginger, whose head and shoulders were projecting from the side of the float, now close in, he called: "Is that hole big enough for you to get through ? "

"Just about," answered Ginger.

"All right. Wait till she touches. Don't on any account slip into the water."

"Not on your life," returned Ginger fervently. "I know what's there."

Bullets were now coming unpleasantly close, although fortunately the shooting, as a whole, was wild, this being due probably to the hara.s.sing fire kept up by Tug. The blacks, refusing to face it without cover, had thrown themselves flat in the longish gra.s.s near the wire, each trying to get behind the next man. It was evident that they had no stomach for their job. Nor, for that matter, had their white masters, who seemed equally disinclined to advance. Biggles, too old a soldier to expose himself unnecessarily, was lying flat. He ordered Tug to do the same.

The float touched the bank. Ginger wriggled through the gaping hole he had made in the bent and battered shutter, staggered to the bank and threw himself behind a convenient stump. Another head and shoulders filled the aperture.

Ginger, who happened to be looking at Biggles, saw the blood drain from his face. Twice 193 Biggles opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came. His lips remained parted. The expression in his eyes made Ginger turn sharply to see what he was staring at.

Bertie was just climbing out of the window.

Biggles pointed. "Who-who's that?" he asked in a voice cracking with incredulity.

Ginger answered: "Bertie."

"But I thought ... "

Then Ginger realized that Tug had told Biggles of what he had seen in the forest; in short, that Bertie was dead.

"Bertie's all right," he explained quickly. "Absolutely," confirmed Bertie, joining Ginger behind the stump. "But, I say, what a time we're having, you know!"

Tug had spun round at the sound of Bertie's voice.

He, like Biggles, went pale. His eyes goggled. He nearly choked. When he could find his voice his first remark sounded foolish. "What are you doing here? " he gabbled incoherently. "You went for a Burton. I saw you."

"Changed my mind, old boy," answered Bertie, polishing his eyegla.s.s with a wisp of dry gra.s.s.

"You dirty dog!"

"Dirty is the word," agreed Bertie in a melancholy voice. "I'm filthy. Don't come near me. I stink. My pants are flyblown-"

"Quit fooling," cut in Biggles. "This is the showdown and as far as I'm concerned it's a bit premature. Things are serious. Watch what you're doing. Is there any ammo in that rifle of yours, Ginger? "

"Yes. I've just charged the magazine, but, that's the lot," answered Ginger. "It took almost all the cartridges I had to shoot a ring of holes round the shutter so that we could bash a way out."

193.

"Where's Bertie's rifle?"

"The last time I saw it, it was lying up in the wood."

"What happened to Bertie? Tug told me he'd been gored by a buffalo."

"That was a frame-up to trick Kreeze."

While this conversation was taking place in crisp sentences they had not been lying still. Automatically each one had wormed his way to the best cover he could find, facing up the wire corridor, the direction from which an attack must come. More than once this looked like developing when some of the blacks goaded by taunts shouted by Kreeze, advanced a few yards.

"How are we fixed for weapons? " asked Biggles. The answer was soon forthcoming-one rifle, two revolvers and two automatics, with not much ammunition for any of them.

Biggles' next question was addressed to Ginger. "Do you know your way about here?"

"More or less."

"What's our best plan? Things can't go on indefinitely as they are. If the enemy sends for tools to cut through the fence and work round to our flanks, we've had it."

There seemed to be a chance of this happening, for some of the blacks sprang suddenly to their feet and went racing back up the path.

" The only real cover where we could make a stand is the forest on our right," explained Ginger. "Of course, there's always the power-house."

"I don't like the idea of being cooped up in there," replied Biggles. "Once inside, there would be no getting out, and we're in no state to stand a siege. "Besides, one spark on that thatched roof and the place 195 would go up in flames. That would finish us. Has anyone anything in the way of rations?"

"No."

"Then that settles that," decided Biggles. "Give me a minute to think things over. Meantime, make a dash into the power-house and wreck the plant. Keep your head down as you go. If we smash the engine they won't be able to sink the float. What's in it, by the way?"

"Printing machinery, paper and dud notes."

"Ah!"

"We were inside having a look round when Kreeze decided to sink the thing," explained Ginger. "Of course we didn't know then that it could be submerged. I've got some specimen notes in my pocket."

"Good. Go and sabotage the engine."

Ginger made a dash, and presently the crash of metal on metal told the others that he was doing his job with enthusiasm.

"I say, old boy, where's Algy?" Bertie asked Biggles.

"Gone back to London to report to Raymond."

"Lucky blighter." . .

Biggles looked at his watch and saw that the time was one-thirty. More of the blacks were now making a cautious withdrawal up the path. Occasionally one of those who remained would fire a shot, without doing any damage.

"This is the lull before the storm," Biggles told the others. "If we're going to do anything it will have to be now. Kreeze and Co. are not just going to leave us here. By the way, I seem to remember that someone said there are some genuine hunters staying at the lodge. They might make useful allies. Where are they now?"

196 "There's a British colonel and two Americans" answered Ginger. "They will have gone out hunting and I don't suppose they'll be back before dark."

"I see. How did you and Bertie get here? Did you come down the path ? "

"No. There's a gap in the fence in the forest where a tree has fallen across it. I don't think Kreeze can know anything about it or he would have had it repaired."

Biggles thought for a moment. "If that is so they must suppose we are penned in here."

"I imagine so. Why? Have you got an idea?"

"I was trying to get the position lined up," replied BIggles. "We can't take on this bunch single-handed in a straight fight. There are too many blacks, and we haven't enough ammunition, anyway. Moreover, we can't live without eating, and I'm about due for a meal. These factors alone mean that our only chance is to get out-if we can. There's only one way of getting clear and that's in the machine Tug brought down. I was thinking that if we could get up to this gap you're talking about we might work round behind the enemy and grab the aircraft without any opposition. That should be possible if they suppose we are still inside the fence somewhere, even though they can't see us. There's no need for us to stay at Kudinga any longer; we've got all the evidence we need for Raymond to pounce on the whole gang.

Incidentally, he should have that information by now. With the power unit smashed Kreeze won't be able to move the printing outfit. Without a plane they can't get away from here, so they should still be about when we come back with reinforcements. Our plan is to get away if we can. How does that strike everyone?"

197 It was unanimously agreed that this was the best thing to do in the circ.u.mstances.

"All right, let's try it," decided Biggles. "The great thing is not to let the enemy know we're moving. The easiest way of leading him to think that we are still here is for someone to stay behind for a bit and fire an occasional shot. Bertie, do you know your way up to the gap? "

"Do I not!" exclaimed Bertie.

"Good. This will be the order, then. Ginger will take us up to the track in the forest. You stay here for ten minutes or so firing an occasional shot, then join us on the track. We'll wait there for you."

"Right you are, old boy," agreed Bertie.

Biggles turned to Ginger. "Off you go; we'll follow."

"Watch out for snakes," warned Ginger. "This place is reported to be stiff with them, but so far I've only seen one."

Keeping flat, he wormed his way to the ample cover provided by the bamboos. Biggles and Tug followed, leaving Bertie to cover the retreat.

In daylight it took only a matter of twenty minutes or so to reach the gap in the wire, and a quarter of an hour later they were on the track, reaching it at the scene of the buffalo tragedy, of which there remained gruesome evidence in the shape of trampled earth and well-picked bones. A cloud of flies hung over the place. A disappointment awaited Ginger, who hoped to find Bertie's rifle still there. But it had gone, having been taken presumably by one of the search parties.

"This is where Bertie was supposed to have had it," he told Biggles, and while they were waiting for Bertie he gave a fuller account of the ruse. He apologized 198 again to Tug for the distress the picture had caused him.

"You'd have been taken in, too," remarked Tug. I never saw a man look more dead than Bertie did, lying there smothered with blood."

"It was buffalo blood," said Ginger. "He slipped and fell in it-made a shocking mess of his breeches, which still worries him not a little." He smiled at the recollection.

Soon afterwards Bertie joined them. He recognized he spot and shuddered. "How perfectly foul," he uttered in a voice of deep disgust. "Couldn't you find some other place to wait? Must we stay here?"

"No," answered Biggles. "The faster we move now the better. If we get caught in the open it will be anything but funny. How far is it to the hangar? " Ginger supplied the information. "Not far. We ought to do it in ten minutes or so."

"All right; let's turn up the wick."*

They set off again, marching in single file with Ginger, who knew the way, leading. There was no more talking and they moved with the least possible noise.

The edge of the forest was reached without incident. Ahead now lay the open rim of the crater, with the sun blazing down on it at full mid-day strength. The rarefied air quivered in the heat.

"Keep going," ordered Biggles, and the party prooeeded.

They had gone more than half way, and their objeccive was in full view, when without warning two blacks appeared directly ahead. They may have been watchers sent up by Kreeze, or, as Tug remarked, remembering * "Turn up the wick." R.A.F. slang meaning hurry, or more lecifically, open the throttle wide.

199 the conversation in the office, they could have been two of the men posted to watch the sky. Anyway, they saw the four white men instantly, as was inevitable. With a yell of alarm they dashed over the brow of the hill whence they had appeared.

"I'm afraid that's torn it," muttered Biggles. "In a couple of minutes Kreeze will know where we are. He'll guess we're making for the hangar. Our only chance is to beat him to it. Come on." He broke into a run.

With perspiration streaming down their faces they ran straight for the objective; and they were within a hundred yards of it, with every prospect of success, when a dozen or more blacks appeared, urged on by Doctor Dorov, from behind the hangar. Biggles realized that they had come out of the lodge grounds and had been approaching the hangar at the same time as themselves, but from the far side.

Biggles slowed down. "I should have guessed that the first thing Kreeze would do, now that he knows Tug is with us, would be to put a guard on the machine," he observed. "Pity; another couple of minutes and we should have been there first."

"When he saw four of us down at the power-house he must have realized that you were here," Ginger pointed out.

"He must have been a bit puzzled to see me trotting round again-if you get my meaning?" remarked Bertie, wiping moisture off his monocle.

At this juncture Kreeze himself appeared over the edge of the crater, slightly to the left, and rather nearer to the hangar than they were. With him was White, Robinson and George the mechanic, and the remainder of the black staff.

200 By this time Biggles' party, confronted by overrwhelming numbers, had automatically stopped. In fact, all three parties stopped, since to go on must provoke a collision which, since they were all in the open, could not fail to result in casualties. In fact, the situation, as it had developed, was a curious one. Neither Kreeze nor Doctor Dorov, in charge of the two opposition parties, appeared anxious to open hostilities-possibly because they themselves would certainly be involved. As far as Kreeze was concerned, practical proof of this was provided when he produced a white handkerchief, and waving it conspicuously advanced to within speaking distance-or perhaps it would be more correct to say, shouting distance. Each party was about fifty yards from the hangar and the same distance apart.

"You might as well give up!" called Kreeze. "You can't get away!"

"Neither can you," Biggles pointed out with even greater truth, for the only vehicle available was the aircraft, and Kreeze on his side had no one able to fly it.

"Put down your guns and come into the office to talk it over," suggested Kreeze.

Biggles laughed scornfully. "Put down your guns and I'll take you to Cairo for a fair trial," he promised. "Are you coming quietly or would you rather fight it out?"