CONTENTS

CHAPTER I: A PILOT PASSES

CHAPTER II: DOWN THE AFRICAN TRAIL
CHAPTER III: AN UNPLEASANT PASSENGER
CHAPTER IV: SINISTER DEVELOPMENTS
CHAPTER V: ALONE WITH A LION
CHAPTER VI: SARDA STRIKES
CHAPTER VII: GINGER COMES HOME
CHAPTER VIII: SAVAGES
CHAPTER IX: BIGGLES SUMS UP
CHAPTER X: ALGYS ANTELOPE HUNT
CHAPTER XI: CRASHED BY A RHINO
CHAPTER XII: THE SNAKE IN THE GRASS
CHAPTER XIII: WHAT NEXT?
CHAPTER XIV: ORDEAL BY FIRE
CHAPTER XV: BIGGLES SPEAKS
CHAPTER XVI: THE ROUND-UP
CHAPTER XVII: IN CONCLUSION

CHAPTER I
A PILOT PASSES
BIGGLES looked up from the breakfast table of his Mount Street flat as his two friends, Algy
Lacey and Ginger Hebblethwaite, walked into the room. From their shining faces and the dressing-
gowns they wore it was clear that they had come direct from the bathroom, and Biggles eyed them
with frank disapproval.
Whats the matter with you fellows lately? he asked coldly.
Speaking for myself, nothing, replied Algy cheerfully. Why?
I was wondering if youd contracted sleepy-sickness or something. You get later and later. Its
nearly half-past ninea nice time to roll down to brekker, I must say. Well, youll be unlucky
tomorrow; Ive told Mrs Symes to clear the table at eight-thirty in future.
Why all the hurry? inquired Algy imperturbably, as he pulled out a chair and seated himself at
the table. Theres nothing much to get up for, anyway, is there? None of us has done a days work
for weeks, not since we wound up Cronfeldts gold-running racket. I cant understand what all the
crooks are doing. If somebody doesnt soon start something I shall sink into a condition of
permanent coma.
And when they do youll be the first to grouse.
Not me; anything would be better than mooning about here.
I dont know what youve got to grumble at; youve had plenty of flying.
Am I a pupil at a flying school that I must go round and round the sky with nowhere to go and
nothing to do? I hardly like to confess it, but I am afraid that flying for the sake of flying no longer
amuses me. I wish to goodness some one would ask us to go and fetch something from somewhere,
or take something somewhere, or start an air line, or a waranything.
Well, your wish may be fulfilled sooner than you expect.
Algy started, and a slow smile spread over Gingers face.
What ho! Out with it; theres something in the wind, declared Algy shrewdly. What is it?
Go and put on your jackets, both of you, and Ill tell you, promised Biggles. Im expecting a
visitor, and I dont want to create the impression that this is a home for invalid inebriates.
As they left the room Biggles picked up a letter that lay on the table in front of him and read it
for the third or fourth time. He was still pondering over it when Algy and Ginger returned, eager
expectation written on their faces.
Well, get it off your chest, invited Algy, reaching a long arm for the coffee-pot.
If youll sit down and behave like a little gentleman instead of grabbing things like a famished
tramp let loose in a tuck-shop, Ill begin.
Algy pulled the toast-rack and the marmalade within easy reach Go ahead, he said cheerfully,
Im all ears.
There is no need for you to advertise what any one looking at you could hardly fail to see,
murmured Biggles pointedly, with his eyes on the sheet of paper he still held in his hands. This
letter, he continued quickly, is from Mr. Felix Marton. Does that name convey anything to you?
Algy shook his head. Nothing, he said sadly. Not a blooming thing.
But Ginger raised a hand. Martons Marathon Motor-bikes? he suggested.
Biggles nodded. Quite right, he said. The maker of the world-famous speed-track models is, I
suspect, in trouble. Listenthis is what he says:

Martons Motor-cycles, Ltd.,
Birmingham.
Dear Major Bigglesworth,
I am taking the liberty of writing this letter to you because your name has been suggested to me
by Colonel Raymond of Scotland Yardwhom I met recently at a dinner partyas the most likely
man to help me to solve a very grievous problem. Business will take me to London to-morrow,
Thursday, so I propose to call on you. I have several appointments during the day, so the time will
probably be early in the forenoon. I will leave the subject on which I wish to consult you until
then.
Yours sincerely,
FELIX MARTON.

I like the word consult, grinned Ginger. Sounds like good detective stuff to me.
Have you any idea what its about? inquired Algy.
Yes. Biggles lit a cigarette. The name was familiar to me at once, quite apart from motor-
bikes, and after a few minutes deep reflection I re-called the association. Dont you remember,
about a year ago, a young fellow named Marton Biggles broke off as the front door bell
whirred. I should say this is our visitoror, as Ginger would perhaps prefer to say, our client,
he concluded. Be serious, everybody.
There came a knock on the door, which a moment later was opened by Mrs. Symes. Mr. Felix
Marton, sir, she said, and withdrew, leaving the famous motor-cycle manufacturer with the three
airmen.
Sit down, sir, said Biggles respectfully, pulling forward a chair, at the same time running a
quick eye over the visitor.
He saw a man of about fifty years of age whose snow-white hair and sad face, accentuated by
the dark clothes he wore, told a story of acute suffering. His manner was listless, although there
was more than a suggestion of old-time courtesy in it.
Allow me to introduce my two very good friends and comrades, continued Biggles. Captain
Lacey and Mr. Hebblethwaite.
Mr. Marton bowed. I am honoured to make your acquaintance, gentlemen, he said gravely.
And now, sir, went on Biggles, we are entirely at your service.
I have come to talk to you about my son, said Mr. Marton slowly, looking Biggles squarely in
the face.
Yes, I rather thought that was the object of your visit, nodded Biggles. Ive just been
speaking on the telephone to the Secretary of the Royal Aero Club to refresh my memory with the
circumstances ofbut never mind that. Please tell us your story in your own way. What I have
heard is, of course, the official version, which does not necessarily mean that it is the correct one
at least, in the matter of detail.
Then I think I had better start right at the beginning, observed the old man. Really, the story
begins about two years ago when my son Harrymy only son, I may saypersuaded me against
my better judgement to allow him to learn to fly. I have nothing against aviation, dont think that,
but my wife is dead and the boy was all I had left to care for, so not unnaturally I was loth to let
him take the slightest risk of injuring himself.
However, like many other young fellows, flying made an irresistible appeal to him, and in the
end he had his own way. He joined the Midland Aero Club, and judging by the reports of his
instructors, he soon became a pilot of exceptional ability, taking both his A and B Licences
within a year. But he soon began to look for new worlds to conquer. In particular he took a great
interest in record-breaking flights, and at length conceived a plan for making such a flight himself.
He decided to attack the England to Capetown record. From a financial point of view I had nothing
against it, because I am what the world would call a rich man, but I was apprehensive for his
safety and I told him so. Well, he overruled my protests, and in the end, having bought a new Puss
Moth for the purpose, he set out. That was just over a year ago.
I neednt go into the details of the earlier part of the flight; as far as one can gather they were
quite normal. All went well, and at Malakal, which as you probably know is in Central Africa, he
was several hours in front of his time schedule. Now this is where the unhappy part of the affair
begins. He landed at Malakal at ten-thirty in the morning, rather tired, but as fit as the proverbial
fiddle and with his engine running perfectly. He refuelled, had a cold bath, and half an hour later
took off again bound for Juba.
Youve confirmed that, I suppose? put in Biggles.
Oh, yes. Theres not much doubt about it, anyway. He was flying down the Imperial route, and
Malakal is an important station, with radio equipment, and so on. The officials there are unanimous
that he was well and had nothing on his mind. He was seen to take off, and as he left the ground the
wireless operator advised the control officer at Juba to be on the look-out for him. But he never
arrived. From that moment the flight is wrapped in mystery. Days passed, grew into weeks, and
still no word came. Imperial Airways pilots kept a sharp look-out for a crash on the ground, but
they saw nothing, although the country at that point is fairly opensandy plain for the most part,
dotted with clumps of thorn and mimosa trees. A crash would be visible for miles. Now mark this
well. At the same time as Harry took off from Malakal, bound for Juba, the Imperial Airways
Atalanta air-liner Arethusa took off from Juba bound for Malakal. They should have passed each
other somewhere about mid-way between the two points. But they didnt. Captain Cuthbertson,
who was flying the air-liner, is absolutely emphatic that no machine could have passed him
travelling in the opposite direction, of coursewithout his seeing it. Visibility was perfect. There
wasnt a cloud in the sky. So the obvious inference is that Harry disappeared between Malakal and
a point half-way to Juba.
Mr. Marton stopped and took from his attache case a large-scale map of Central Africa, which
he opened out on the table. Here is a map of the district kindly given to me by Imperial Airways.
It is one of the same sort as they issue to their pilots. He pointed to a spot in the centre of the map.
Here is Malakal, he said.
And now we come to a very curious incident, he went on. It is the only clue we have that
throws any light on the mystery, although in some respects it tends to deepen it. Three weeks after
Harry disappeared, a white hunter named Major Lawton arrived at Nairobi, in Kenya Colony, and
on hearing about the missing machine he made a statement. He said that on the day in question he
was on safarithat is, on the marchwith his native porters, in the district concerned. When
about a hundred and fifty miles south of Malakal he saw a red monoplane gliding down in the
direction of Insula with its engine off. The Puss Moth is, as you know, a monoplane, and Harrys
machine was painted red. Major Lawton did not pay much attention to it, assuming that the pilot
was one of the now numerous Cape flyers, as was, in fact, the case. He thought no more about it
until he got back to Nairobi. Now this place Insula is, to my mind, the crux of the whole affair.
When Major Lawtons report reached me I chartered an aeroplane and flew out to make inquiries
on the spot. I saw Major Lawton, and what he told me left no doubt in my mind that Harry was
actually gliding down into the aerodrome at Insula when he saw him.
Insula? Ive never heard of the place, muttered Biggles curiously.
Precisely! Very few people have, and inquiries revealed a peculiar state of affairs. It appears
that many years ago, when the Cape route was first projected, it was proposed to establish an
aerodrome in a stretch of open country known locally as Insula. The ground was cleared of ant-
hills and other obstructionsby R.A.F. personnel, I understandand the usual white chalk ring
laid down on the ground to make it conspicuous to airmen. At that juncture it was no more than an
emergency landing-groundwhich, for that matter, it still is. Subsequently, Imperial Airways
decided not to have an aerodrome there, and the place was abandoned. But about four years ago
their head office received an application from a Greek trading concern in Cairo for permission to
use the aerodrome. They offered to pay a small fee, and did, in fact, do so. The only stipulation
Imperial Airways made was that they should keep the place in order and hold a supply of petrol
for the convenience of passing aircraftnot that they imagined that the place would be used very
often.
What reason did these Greeks give for wanting to use such an out-of-the-way place? inquired
Biggles.
It was quite feasible. They said they were anxious to experiment with the culture of high-grade
Turkish tobacco, for which the ground there was eminently suitable. It is. A lot of tobacco is now
grown in Africa, as you know, but unfortunately most of it is rather coarse. They hoped to produce
something better. The place was a long way from Cairo, so their idea, they said, was to get an
aeroplane and fly to and fro, leaving the actual crop in the hands of an overseer and using the old
aerodrome at Insula as a base. Now here is another curious fact. Imperial Airways tell me that for
two years this Greek concern paid its rent, but after that they heard nothing more and assumed that
the whole thing had been dropped, or gone smash. So they were quite surprised when I was able to
inform them that when I landed on the aerodrome it was obviously still in use, or had been until
recently. A supply of petrol is held there in charge of a half-caste fellow who appears to act as a
sort of caretaker-storeman. Now this is very odd. When I tackled this fellow about Harry he
expressed surprise, and declared that he knew nothing about him; but later, when I told him in
pretty strong terms that Major Lawton had seen Harrys machine landI stretched a point
deliberatelyhe admitted it.
He admitted lying?
No. Oh no. He gave a well-simulated start of astonishment and said it had slipped his memory.
He did remember, now that I reminded him, that a red aeroplane had landed. The pilot, whose
name he did not know, was having a little trouble with his engine, but he quickly effected repairs
and took off again, heading south, presumably for Juba. That was all, except that he admitted that
the Greek tobacco company still paid him a small retaining fee to look after the place, and that
once in a while their machine landed there. That this was true is proved by the fact that when
Imperial Airways approached the company for arrears of rent, they paid up without a word. Well,
my pilot and I stayed there for a week, during which time we searched the district for signs of a
crash, but in vain. There was nothing more we could do. Thats the story, Major Bigglesworth, but
I am far from satisfied that it is the end of it. Something happened to Harry at InsulaI am certain
of it; but the authorities wont take the matter up on such flimsy evidence, and I cant say that I
altogether blame them. What happened to Harry? Where is his machine? Africa is a big place, but
there are very few square miles of it that are not traversed by somebody, black or white, during the
year. A wrecked aeroplane is a conspicuous object, and the discovery of one could not long go
unremarked. Native gossip would soon reach the ears of political officers, and the world would
quickly know what had happened to my poor boy.
Biggles stared moodily at the hearthrug for some time while his fingers drummed a soft tattoo
on the table. Then he looked up. What was your object in coming to see me, Mr. Marton? he said.
I was hoping that you would be open to consider a proposition.
To go to Africa to findthe crash?
Im by no means sure that you would find a crash.
Why not?
Because I dont think Harry did crash.
Oh, comecome, Mr. Marton. What other trouble could overtake an aeroplane in Africa?
Thats what I want you to find out. I am not superstitious, and its not merely a hope born of a
fathers anxiety, but something inside me tells me that my boy is still alivethat he has been the
victim of circumstances beyond his control. I may be wrong, but what I want is proof. This
uncertainty is killing me. If I were sure that he had crashed and been killedwell, it would be a
dreadful blow, but I should at least know the worst. Its this disappearing into thin air
Many other machines have disappeared, Mr. Marton. Disappeared without trace.
I know, but if youll examine the records you will see that that sort of thing has always
happened near the sea. Whenever a machine has disappeared inland, sooner or later the crash has
been found.
Biggles nodded. Yes, I must admit youre right there, he agreed.
The spot where Harry disappeared is a thousand miles from the sea, and his machine had a
cruising range of only five hundred miles. He could not have reached the sea even if he had wanted
to.
He could, by refuelling.
In which case there would be a record of where he refuelled. People dont give petrol away.
He would have paid for it. He was flying due south, and on that course he was three thousand
miles from the sea. Can you imagine any reason why a pilot, intent on breaking a long-distance
record, should deviate from his course by a single mile?
None whatever. That is, not voluntarily. He might be blown off his course by dirty weather.
At the time of which we are speaking the weather was perfect. Thats what makes it all the
more inexplicable.
Biggles bit his bottom lip reflectively. A curious business, he admitted. He looked up at Mr.
Marton. Such a trip as the one you propose would cost a lot of money, he observed warningly.
As far as Im concerned money doesnt enter into it. I have plenty, but what is the use of it to
me without my boy? Id willingly give every penny of it to know the truth.
It seems to me to be a matter of time, went on Biggles presently. Making Insula our base, we
could divide the whole country up into sections, and search every one of them thoroughly. If we
did that, sooner or later we should find the crash, but Im afraid it might take a very long time.
The motor-cycle magnate sprang to his feet. Harrys machine is somewhere in Africa today,
either intact or a mangled wreck, he cried, and Im going to spend every penny of my fortune
looking for it. Will you help me?
Biggles moved uneasily, and glanced at his partners. Well he began haltingly.
You can name your own terms, offered Mr. Marton.
Biggles shook his head. I wasnt thinking so much about money, he said.
Will you go ?
Biggles nodded. Yes, he said, Ill go, but as Ive said, its likely to be a big job. I think the
only fair way would be for you to finance the expedition, paying all expenses, and paying myself
and my co-pilots a flat rate worked out on a time basis.
Anything you like. You shall have a draft on my bank immediately. Furtheralthough Im not
doing this as an inducement, because I know youll do everything in your power anywaythe day
you find Harrys machine, crashed or intact, Ill pay you five thousand pounds. And if you find
Harry, orhis graveIll double it.
Biggles rose to his feet. Thats very generous of you, he said. I trust that we may be
successful.
When will you start ?
Just as soon as the Royal Aero Club can get permits for us to fly over foreign territory. If you
dont hear from us you will know that we have nothing to report, but be assured that we shall be
doing our best. If we discover anything we will cable you at once.
Thank you, my boy.
Biggles held out his hand. Good-bye, sir, he said warmly.
Good-bye, and may God help you in your search.
Biggles closed the door behind the unhappy father, and then walked slowly back into the room.
It looks as if weve only escaped von Stalheins bullets to make a dinner for lions, he observed
whimsically. Any one who fancies his chance as a wild-beast tamer can start packing his kit; Im
going round to the Aero Club.
CHAPTER II
DOWN THE AFRICAN TRAIL
TEN days later he touched his wheels lightly on the sun-baked aerodrome at Malakal and taxied
slowly towards the rest-house to refuel.
So far the trip had not been entirely uneventful. After some consideration and consultation with
the others, he had decided on a Dragon Moth as the most suitable aeroplane for their task. It was
roomy, and the two engines, besides giving them an ample reserve of power, enabled them to carry
a heavy load of provisions and spare parts, for they had no delusions about the magnitude of the
undertaking. To find a burnt-out aeroplane crash for that was what, in his heart, Biggles
expected to findeven if the approximate position of it were known, would have been no easy
matter; but with an area of many thousands of square miles to searchfor he did not overlook the
fact that the Puss Moth could have headed in any direction after it left Insulait became
formidable.


Like Harry Marton, he had followed the Imperial route all the way, telling no one of their
purpose, but allowing the aerodrome officials to assume that the Dragon was merely on a pleasure
cruise to Capetown. They had run into the usual bumpy weather over Egypt, had struck a haboob
1
between Wadi Halfa and Khartoum, and had spent some anxious minutes with an engine missing
fire over the dreaded Sudd, the great expanse of crocodile-infested papyrus swamp south of the
Sudan, where roamed herds of elephants, secure from the ever-advancing tide of civilization. To
the east lay Abyssinia; to the south, the vast Tanganyika Territory; and to the west, the very heart of
the dark continentthe Belgian Congo, merging in its northern extremity into the waterless wastes
of the Sudan.
Fill her up, please, Biggles told the ground engineer, as he climbed out and stretched before
walking towards the shade of the rest-house, for the rays of the sun were pouring down with fierce
intensity.
Algy and Ginger followed him, mopping their faces, their solar topees tilted back.
Sort of warmish, eh? grinned Ginger.
What else did you expect it to be on the Equator? smiled Biggles.
Are we actually on it?
Your feet are toeing the lineor they would be if there was one. But wait a minute. I want to
have a word or two with this chap. Biggles paid his fees and then invited the engineer into the
rest-house for some refreshment. He was an Englishman, they found, Harker by name.
Do you remember a fellow named Marton coming in here about twelve months ago? Biggles
asked casually.
The engineer glanced up. I ought to; I filled up his tanks for him, he answered simply.
Funny business, the way he disappeared into the blue.
Harker nodded.
What do you suppose happened to him?
Oh, he went down in the bush somewhere. Chewed up by lions or hyenas by this time. It was
clear that the engineer was not particularly interested.
Theres a rumour that he went down at Insula, prompted Biggles, athirst for any scrap of
information, however meagre.
Yes, I heard that.
They tell me its run by some Greeks now.
So I believe.
Ever see anything of them?
Once, a long time ago. At least, I think it must have been them.
How long ago?
It must be about eighteen months. There was a Greek flying with a French pilot.
Know anything about them?
Nothing.
It was obvious that Harker was not inclined to be communicative. Biggles was not surprised.
The man looked tired and full of fever. Between them, the sun and the mosquitoes had played
havoc with his constitution.
Do you remember what they were flying? asked Biggles.
French machine. Open cockpit biplane, about ten years old by the look of it. Why all these
questions?
Just interested. I know Martons father, so I thought that as I was passing through, Id see if I
could pick up any information. Well, Ill be getting along.
Is Juba your next stop? Ill signal them that youre on your way, if you like.
No, thanks, replied Biggles quickly. As a matter of fact, Imperials have asked us to have a
look at Insula on the way downonly keep that to yourself.
Whyare they thinking of operting it up?
No; I think theyre just mildly interested to know what sort of a state its in.
I see. Well, well be seeing you on the way back, I expect.
I expect so, answered Biggles noncommittally, as he walked towards the Dragon.
Nothing much to be picked up here, by the look of it, observed Algy quietly.
I didnt expect anything. That fellows got no axe to grind. As far as hes concerned, Harry
Marton was just one of many.
They got back into the machine, took off and headed south for the deserted aerodrome of Insula.
Biggles found it rather more than an hour later, not without difficulty, for there was little to
distinguish it from the rest of the inhospitable terrain, which was flat, studded with groups of
curious, flat-topped trees and outcrops of grey stone. Farther to the west the country was more
thickly wooded, although it remained fairly open, not unlike parkland in Europe, but with short,
yellow, sun-dried grass instead of greensward.
I think this must be the place, muttered Biggles, looking down. But I understood there was a
white ring to mark the centre of the landing area.
So there should be, declared Ginger. I remember Mr. Marton saying so. So did the Imperial
Airways people when I went down to make inquiries about the place.
Well, it isnt here now.
Got covered up by a dust-storm, perhaps.
In that case the fellow in charge should have cleared it again.
Thats right enough, muttered AIgy. Hello, there he is now. I saw him pop out from under the
trees and take a look at us. Hes gone back in again now.
Funny!
Why funny?
That he should hop back in, observed Biggles, as he throttled back and began a long glide
towards the arid brown earth that formed the surface of the aerodrome. Ive seen thousands of
aeroplanes land in my time, but if I was down there I should certainly be out on the tarmac
watching this machine land. Its the natural thing to do. Ill bet ninety-nine people out of a hundred
would. That fellow cant see so many aeroplanes here that he is sick of the sight of them. I shall be
interested to have a look at him.
There was not very much wind, but what little there was came from the south-west, making it
necessary for the machine to glide in over the primitive aerodrome buildings. The airmen all
looked down as they swept low over them, but not a soul was in sight, and a moment later the
Dragon bumped its wheels rather heavily on the hard earth some distance beyond.
A frown of displeasure crossed Biggless face as the machine bounced to a standstill. If either
of you ever flies this machine while were here, be careful, he warned the others. Were on the
great African plateau, and what with the heat and the rarefied atmosphere, she drops like a brick
the instant you flatten out. And just a last word of advice before I taxi in. From now on anything
might happen. Dont ask me what because I dont know, but the feeling I have in my bones doesnt
often let me down. That tool-chest must always be kept locked, and the case with our rifles in.
Keep your automatics handy, but dont let any one see them. And finally, not a word about the job
were on. If it becomes necessary to mention young Marton, leave it to me. Eyes open and mouths
shut is our motto, although naturally I shall have to have a word or two with this fellow in charge
of the aerodrome. What did Mr. Marton say his name was?
SardaLuke Sarda, Ginger reminded him.
Thats it. Well, here we are. If nothing occurs to make an alteration of plan advisable, I shall
stick to the original scheme and start a systematic search of the whole area. Anybody got any
questions to ask?
There was no reply, so Biggles taxied up to where a reed-thatched rest-house stood in the
doubtful shade of a coppice of old, almost leafless trees. Near it was a hangar built almost entirely
of reeds, or elephant grass, now in the last stages of dilapidation. A short distance away, in a
clearing amongst the trees, was another building, a bungalow, more solidly built of square timber,
and roofed with corrugated iron.
I expect thats the managers residence, observed Biggles, glancing in its direction, as they all
stepped out of the machine. And this looks like the lad himself, he went on as a massive figure,
clad in little more than rags, appeared from the far side of the building and hurried towards them.
Phew! What a beauty, breathed Ginger. If looks are anything to go by, I should say hes the
sort of bloke who would stab his blind grandmother for her money-box.
The trouble is, you cant always judge by looks, murmured Biggles. Ssh, leave the talking to
me.
Together they stood in the shadow of the Dragons wings and waited for the aerodrome
manager to come up to them. As Ginger had observed, if appearances were anything to go by the
man looked capable of any vice or crime. In the first place he was clearly a half-breed, with the
black predominant, although his hair was long and straight. His mouth was large, with loose lips,
from a comer of which a ghastly scar ran transversely across his face to the opposite side of the
forehead, straight across the right eyeor rather, the socket where it should have been. The
weapon that had made the scar had obviously destroyed the eye at the same time. Nor was this
unpleasant picture improved by innumerable pock-marks that dotted the mans face. His one saving
grace was his physique, for he was well over six feet in height, although this did nothing to make
his appearance less forbidding. Nor did his clothes, such as they were. A pair of calico trousers,
torn, and filthy beyond description, topped by the remains of an old striped pyjama jacket, open
from the throat to the waist, completed his outfit. He wore nothing on his feet, not even sandals.
Good afternoon. Youre Mr. Sarda, I suppose? began Biggles.
Yaas, thats me, replied the manager, in passable English. You want petrol, huh?
You keep a stock here then, do you?
Yaas.
I dont need any at present, but I shall later on.
When you come backhuh?
No, Im going to stay here for a little while.
If this announcement caused Sarda any surprise, he did not show it. Plenty mosquito, plenty
sandfly, plenty fever, he grunted pessimistically.
Weve got plenty of quinine and mosquito curtains, Biggles told him.
Plenty booze, perhapshuh?
Sorry, but Im afraid thats where we must disappoint you.
What you come here forhuh?
Weve come to make a report on the aerodrome for the government, and look round for other
suitable sites, Biggles told him casually.
No grub here.
No matter, weve got plenty; and if we run short we can easily run up to Malakal for more,
answered Biggles. I suppose youve got plenty of water?
No water.
What?
Plenty rain-water. All right for engine but no use for drink. Plenty dysentery.
Well, I expect we shall get over that difficulty, observed Biggles with expressionless face.
Just get the hangar door open and well put our machine inside out of the sun.
Wed better give him a hand, suggested Algy, as the half-breed began folding back the flimsy
doors.
Together they got the machine inside and then went down to the rest-house. It was in a filthy
condition, but Biggles kept back the criticism that rose to his lips, for he had no wish to antagonize
the man at the outset.
Have you been here very long? he asked, as he surveyed with disgust not unmixed with alarm
the tangle of cobwebs that festooned the under side of the thatch.
Four yearsmaybe five.
Dont see many aeroplanes down this way, I suppose?
No planes come here.
Some time since you had a visitor, eh?
Six months or more.
Is that why you did away with the white ring on the aerodrome?
It got washed out with the rains, muttered the half-breed sullenly.
Yes, of course, it would, murmured Biggles, as if he was quite satisfied with the explanation.
By the way, isnt this the place where that ladwhat was his name... Marton, thats itlanded,
just before he disappeared? Biggless manner was inconsequential, as if the matter was of no real
interest to him.
There was a moments silence. Yaas, said Sarda slowly.
Funny business to disappear like that. Glancing up suddenly, Biggles caught Sardas eyes on
him, and what he saw in them sent a cold shiver down his spine. In the circumstances he decided
that no good purpose would be served by pursuing the matter farther. I think wed better get our
things out of the machine and fix ourselves up, he said, turning to the others.
How long you stay? asked Sarda dispassionately.
Not more than a day or two, I hope, returned Biggles truthfully. But dont worry about us: we
can look after ourselves. I suppose youll be about in case we happen to want you?
The half-caste nodded towards the bungalow. Yaas, he said, in there. Then, suddenly, his
single eye switched, and following it with his own, Biggles saw what it was that had attracted his
attention. A slim centipede, nearly a foot long, had emerged from under the eaves of the rest-house
and was gliding down the wall with a horrible concertina-like movement. Sardas eyes followed
it, coldly. Slowly, his hand went inside his jacket and came out holding a heavy knife by the blade.
His arm went up and back. There was a glint of flying steel, a dull thud, and the centipede
squirmed violently, transfixed to the wall.
Good shot, cried Ginger warmly.
Very good indeed, agreed Biggles, in a peculiar voice, catching Algys eye.
I always killcentipedes, said Sarda suavely, its he retrieved his knife and severed the body
of the reptile in half a dozen places.
Biggles shuddered. Its the best thing to do with them, he answered lightly. Come on, chaps,
lets go and get our things out.... Ive often wondered what centipedes are for, but now I know, he
added quietly, a few moments later, as they walked towards the hangar.
Ginger glanced up. How so, Chief ? he asked.
To teach hard-working airmen to watch their step, murmured Biggles ambiguously. When a
fellow can throw a knife as well as Mr. Sarda its a good thing to know it. I fancy he wanted us to
know, too. He must have spent many hours practising to reach such a degree of accuracy, but he
didnt waste all that time for the mere purpose of slaying centipedes, you can bet your life on that. I
am instinctively suspicious of gentlemen who are as proficient in the employment of lethal
weapons as our one-eyed friend, and the less we see of him the better I shall be pleased. If ever
we fall out with him, and I have a feeling that we may, dont forget to duck when his hand goes
inside his shirt. To start with, hes a liar.
Algy raised his eyebrows.
Didnt you notice that patch of oil outside the hangar? went on Biggles. Its black, burnt-out
stuff such as could only have come out of an engine, and its been there less than twenty-four hours,
or it would be covered with a layer of dust. He said a machine hasnt been here for six months, but
I know better; a machine has been ticking over on this aerodrome within the last two days. And
Mr. Sarda knows it; thats why he doesnt want us here. Didnt you notice how he raised every
objection he could think of to prevent us from staying here? No food, no water, but plenty of fever.
Well, we shall see. Come on, lets get our things fixed up. Well spend the rest of the day getting
settled and start flying in the morning. Strewth! Isnt it hot!
By sundown they had carried their kit and stores into the rest-house, leaving a few tins of food
and chocolate in the machine as a precaution against starvation in the event of a forced landing.
The rest-house, they soon perceived, was likely to prove a misnomer, for it consisted only of one
large rectangular room, with a dirt floor over which innumerable ants worked conscientiously at
their self-appointed tasks. The walls were built of dried mud bricks, known in Spanish America as
adobe, and the roof was thatched with a thick layer of tinder-dry reeds or papyrus that had
evidently been brought from a river or water-hole.
I dont think an awful lot of this place, confessed Biggles. But we shall have to put up with it
for the time being, at any rate. I should hate to think of the crawling things that live in thatch. Id
rather sleep in the open, and so I would but for the fact that Id rather be bitten by a flea than a lion.
It s no use starting operations by getting our heads chewed off in our sleep.
They cleared up the place as far as it was possible, and then set up their mosquito-curtained
camp beds, standing the feet in pans of paraffin. They scrubbed the table with carbolic soap, and
then piled on it such stores as would be required immediately, together with small kit such as toilet
things and flash lamps, which might be needed at any time. There was nothing more they could do,
so they went outside and sat on the crude bench that had been provided for the purpose by whoever
had built the rest-house.
Already the disk of the sun, a glowing crimson ball, was sinking swiftly over the distant
horizon, while the outskirts of the aerodrome were lost in vague, purple shadows. All was still,
silent; nothing moved. It was almost as if nature herself was closing her eyes in sleep.
I suppose there are lions and things wandering about out there, reflected Ginger in a low
voice.
As if in answer a deep, vibrant roar rose menacingly on the sultry air; it came from far away,
rolled sullenly across the deserted landscape and lost itself again in the distance.
Theres your answer, smiled Biggles. Thats the voice of Africa speakingstraight from the
lions mouth.
Doesnt sound so good out here as it does at the Zoo, muttered Ginger, frowning Hadnt we
better get the rifles out?
I dont think so. Nothing is likely to worry us, except mosquitoes.
Hark! What was that?
A harsh, coughing grunt had come from somewhere in the trees behind them.
Dont ask me, protested Biggles. I should say it was a crocodile, or a leopard, but Im no
wild-beast expert. At a rough guess there are probably a hundred different sorts of wild animals,
birds and reptiles, wandering about the landscape within a few miles of uslions, leopards,
hyenas, elephants, jackals, ostriches, hippos, rhinos, buffaloes, zebras, giraffes, antelopes, and
goodness knows what elseand if youre going to say what was that every time one of them
makes a noise, youll give us all the heebie-jeebies. I dont know any more about them than you do,
except hyenas and jackals, and weve seen plenty of them, havent we, Algy?
Algy nodded. Too many, he answered moodily.
Well, I think wed better turn in, observed Biggles presently. Weve had a longish day, and
weve got another long day in front of us tomorrow. He led the way back into the rest-house, and
Ginger closed the door behind them.
So this is Africa, he observed facetiously.
Just the first sniff of it, agreed Biggles, but were going to see plenty more of it before were
through with this job, unless Im very much mistaken, he added thoughtfully.
A raucous howl split the night air not far away. It rose to a quavering scream, and then subsided
in a series of ghastly chuckles and gurgles. Another joined it, and another, until the night became
hideous with the clamour.
Ginger started up. What in the name of goodness is that? he gasped.
Hyenas, replied Biggles laconically. If you say whats that again, Ill throw you out to
them.
1
Haboob is the local name for the fierce sandstorms that sweep across this part of the world.
CHAPTER III
AN UNPLEASANT PASSENGER
BIGGLES was the first to awake the following morning. It was still quite early, scarcely more
than the break of dawn, with the stars paling in a pearly sky.
Come on, you fellows, he cried, throwing back his mosquito net and springing out of bed.
Whats the hurry? grumbled Algy.
The sooner were in the air the better, Biggles told him crisply. It should be quite nice in the
air now, but presently it will get as hot as the dickens and the heat-haze will spoil visibility. Ive
been thinking, and Ive come to the conclusion that there is no necessity for all of us to fly every
time the machine takes the air. It would only mean carrying extra weight, besides tiring us out more
quickly than if we worked in relays. I suggest that we take it in turns, or its quite likely that we
shall be sick to death of the job before weve covered half our territory. Suppose Ginger comes
with me now while you stay behind, Algy, and knock up some breakfast. Well do, say, two hours,
and then, after breakfast, you can take a turn at the stick.
I think thats a sound idea, declared Algy.
Good enough; then thats settled. Slip your things on, Ginger; well wash and eat when we get
back. Algy, you might come along and give us a hand to start up.
Together they walked along to the hangar, Algy still in his pyjamas, with a pair of canvas shoes
on his feet, and the others in trousers and sweaters, caps, and goggles. The usual heavy flying kit
was unnecessary, for although the dawn air was quite chilly they knew that the heat would be
intense later on.
Biggles glanced suspiciously at the pool of oil as they passed it. Be careful of Sarda, Algy, he
said seriously. There is something going on here or it wouldnt be necessary for him to lie,
although whether or not that has anything to do with Harry Marton it is yet too early to say. No
doubt we shall find out in due course. Meanwhile, try to keep an eye on Sarda without letting him
know you are watching him, but bearing in mind that he is probably watching us, too.
Between them they folded back the rickety doors of the hangar and pulled the machine outside,
with its nose pointing to the open aerodrome. Biggles, with Ginger dose behind, opened the door
of the machine and walked through to the cockpit, and with his left hand resting lightly on the back
of the seat, he reached forward with the other to turn on the petrol cock. As he did so he happened
to glance down. The next instant he had spun round, almost knocking Ginger over in his haste.
Outside for your life! he hissed tensely.
Ginger took one amazed look at Biggless face; the expression of it made him catch his breath,
but he was too well trained to waste time asking questions. Without a word he whipped round,
darted to the door and leapt to the ground.
Biggles landed almost on his heels. Run, he yelled at Algy, who was staring at this astonishing
behaviour in bewilderment. Make for the rest-house, he went on, desperately, and dont stop on
the way.
With one accord they made a wild rush in the direction of the rest-house.
What the dickens is it? cried Algy in something between fright and anger.
Dont talkrun, panted Biggles, snatching a glance over his shoulder. Faster, he yelled, his
voice rising to a frenzied cry of panic.
His fear communicated itself to Ginger, who sprinted for dear life; but with Algy curiosity
overcame all other emotions and he took a quick look behind. Twenty yards away what appeared
to be a short length of black hosepipe was covering the ground at incredible speed in a series of
galvanized jerks, and it told him all he needed to know. With his elbows pressed against his ribs,
he shot forward like a sprinter leaving the starting line, while a gasp of real terror burst from his
lips.


They reached the rest-house about half a dozen yards ahead of their pursuer, and Biggles, who
was in last, slammed the door behind him. On the table, he roared, glancing at the base of the
walls, which he now noticed for the first time had been undermined in several places by rodents
and storm water.
It was touch and go. For a moment it looked as if the table would collapse and throw them into
a heap on the floor, but they recovered their balance just as the snake, twisting and curling like a
whip-thong, shot through a hole near the door.
There was a roar as Algys gun blazed, but the target was a difficult one, and the bullet only
sent up a shower of earth, which served to drive the reptile to greater fury. Biggles snatched up a
wooden case from the pile on the table. It weighed about twenty pounds and was marked corned
beef. For a moment he held it poised, and then brought it crashing down on the snake, now almost
at the foot of one of the table legs. It curled back upon itself furiously, but uselessly, for its back
was broken, although the ends which projected from under the box continued to writhe
convulsively. Biggles took the revolver from Algys hand, and leaning down, fired three shots at
point-blank range at the squat black head. The third shot shattered it to pulp, and the threshing
became a slow sinuous movement. Then he jumped down, not very steadily, and stood staring at it.
Well, he said in a curious voice, now we know where we are.
What is it? asked Ginger in a strained whisper.
Im not quite sure, because Ive never seen one before, but I think its a mamba, replied
Biggles quietly. Did you ever see anything go so fast in your life?
Is it poisonous? asked Algy, getting off the table.
Biggles felt in his pocket and took out a small, thin book. This is a handbook on Africa issued
by the Zoological Society, he said. I thought it might be useful. Swiftly he flicked through the
pages. Here we are, he went on. Mamba. Two species; green and black. The black mamba is
one of the deadliest snakes in the world, and one of the few that will attack a human being without
provocation. It is extremely venomous and can travel at great speed. It has been known to catch a
fast runner and, it has been said, can catch a man on horseback, although this is regarded as
doubtful. It can only travel slowly uphill, however, and natives, when pursued, always seek to
escape by making for a gradient if one is available.
Very pretty, observed Algy grimly. Ill take a gradient about with me while Im in Africa.
What did you mean when you said that now we know where we are?
How do you suppose that thing got into the cockpit ?
It must have crawled in.
Crawled in, my foot! Nothing is going to make me believe that a snake can open doors, go
through, and then close them again behind it.
Algy whistled softly. Of course, he said. The machine was all shut up, wasnt it?
It was; doors, windows, and windscreen. I took particular care to shut everything up tightly in
order to keep dust and insects out.
Then it looks as if somebody must have put it in.
Your powers of deduction are improving.
But who would do a thing like that, and why?
Somebody who wants us out of the way, but is cunning enough to try to make cold-blooded
murder look like an accident, answered Biggles coldly. Can you imagine what would have
happened if we had taken off with that horror in the cockpit? I caneasily. It would just have been
another of those mysterious crashes that defy explanation. No doubt the hyenas and jackals would
have removed any traces of snake-bite. Ssh! Here comes Sardaleave this to me. He raised a
warning finger as a soft footfall was heard outside. The door opened and Sarda stood on the
threshold, looking inquiringly from one to the other of the three airmen.
I heard shooting, huh? he said. Then, following Biggless eyes, he looked down and saw the
crushed reptile. Ah! he exclaimed, sibilantly.
Thats a mamba, isnt it? asked Biggles carelessly.
Yaashim mamba. Very dangerous, answered the half-breed.
Many of them about these parts? inquired Biggles.
Yaasmany.
Well, thats how we treat them, murmured Biggles, looking Sarda straight in the face.
You may not always be so lucky, replied Sarda thoughtfully, picking up the dead reptile by the
tail and throwing it out on to the aerodrome. You were just going to fly, huh ? he queried.
Yes, and were still going to, Biggles told him shortly. Come on, chaps, dont lets waste any
more time.
Wed better have a debate about this after you get back, declared Algy as Biggles got into the
machine and Sarda walked back to the bungalow.
Biggles nodded. Yes, he agreed. One thing is certain: we shall have to mount a guard over
the machine or it will take more nerve than Ive got to get into it. I dont mind the ordinary risks of
flying, but Im no snake-charmeror lion-tamer. Are you O.K. Ginger?
O.K., Chief.
Right-ho. Cheerio, Algy, see you presently.
Biggles twirled the self-starter and, as the engine roared, taxied slowly out across the
aerodrome into position for a take-off.
Five minutes later they were in the air, circling for height, with the vast African continent
stretching away on all sides, harsh, forbidding, mysterious.
Far to the north a cloud of yellow smoke marked the position of a bush fire, a common enough
sight in Africa where native tribes employ this method of driving game towards their traps. To the
west, a range of mountains, their blue serrated peaks softened by distance, rose above a bank of
heat-haze that was now beginning to form.
Im going to try the south first, declared Biggles to Ginger, who was sitting beside him, gazing
around with absorbed interest. Its almost certain that Marton started for Juba, whatever may have
happened afterwards to make him change his course, he concluded.
For an hour they flew on, watching the ground closely on each side for any signs of a crash, but
in vain. Automatically they also kept a watchful eye open for prominent landmarks, and although
they picked out one or two, salient features were few and far between. For the most part the
landscape was wearisome in its monotony. Wild animals they saw in large numbers, giraffe,
buffalo and deer, and occasionally a solitary lion. Once they saw a small herd of elephants
standing flank deep in a lake by a forest of considerable dimensions.
Wed better be getting back, murmured Biggles at last, and suiting the action to the word
brought the nose of the Dragon round until it was pointing to the north. Ive learnt something,
anyway, he added as an afterthought.
Whats that?
The size of the task weve taken on. Its all very well to sit at home and look at maps, but when
you get out here and see thishe indicated the vast territory below with a wave of his left hand
one begins to get an idea of what one is faced with. And I dont mind telling you that it gives me a
sort of hopeless feeling.
Ginger said nothing, possibly because he shared Biggless pessimism. Nor did they speak again
until the aerodrome came into sight and they were gliding down towards it.
What the dickens does Algy think hes playing at? asked Biggles, as he flattened out and
landed.
Ginger peered forward through the windscreen and saw Algy standing just inside the hangar
making strange but definite signals to them. I fancy hes got something to tell us, he said slowly.
If I were you Id taxi right up to the shed.
This apparently was what Algy was trying to induce them to do, for he remained in the shed,
beckoning them on, without making any attempt to meet them.
Has the sun given you St. Vituss dance or something? inquired Biggles, opening the
windscreen and looking down.
No! Come on out; Ive got something to tell you, was the impatient answer.
Well, what is it? asked Biggles a moment later, as he jumped lightly to the ground.
Theres some one else in the bungalow besides Sarda.
Biggles pursed his lips. How do you know? he asked quickly.
I heard Sarda talking to him. Shouting might almost be a better word.
How long ago?
Its happened twice. Once, immediately after you had taken off, and again just now. I may be
wrong but I fancy he didnt know I was in here. He thought wed all gone off together.
What makes you think that ?
Because as the machine took off he dashed out and looked up at it; then, as soon as you were
well away, he ran back without even glancing in this direction and started shouting at somebody. I
was so surprised that I stayed here in the hope of learning something else, instead of letting him see
me as he would have done if I had gone back to the rest-house to make the coffee.
Very interesting. Is the other fellow still in there, do you think?
Im certain of it. Ive kept my eyes on the place all the time.
Good! Ginger, watch the bungalow until further orders, commanded Biggles; and as Ginger
jumped to obey he turned again to Algy. By fair means or foul weve got to find out who it is, he
declared.
Why not go to the place openly?
Because Im afraid that if there is any one there he wont let us in, and we couldnt force our
way in without an open declaration of war. Still, there may be no harm in trying. Come on, lets go.
Leave the talking to me.
Side by side they walked down to the bungalow. Sarda must have seen them coming, for he
opened the door and stepped on to the threshold as they reached it.
Phew! Its warm, muttered Biggles, truthfully enough. May we come in?
Yaas. With pleasure. Why not? was the prompt reply.
Biggles concealed his surprise at this invitation, and threw a quick glance round the room into
which the front door gave access, but except for the fact that it was in a filthy condition there was
nothing unusual about it. Indeed, it was pretty much as a stranger would expect to find it. Not a
very big place to have to spend your life in, is it? he murmured sympathetically, with his eyes on
Sardas face.
Plenty big enough for me, the aerodrome manager assured him. Another big room here. He
opened a communicating door and showed them an adjoining room which, in a primitive sort of
way, was furnished as a bedroom.
These are all the rooms you have, arent they? asked Biggles, making a quick mental
calculation of the overall dimensions of the place.
All except the kitchen. Kitchens over there. Sarda pointed to a small door on the opposite
side of the living room.
Biggles strolled over and opened it. As Sarda had said, the room into which it led was a small
kitchen. But there was no one in it.
Well, well, he said smiling, youre better off than we are in the rest-house. What we really
came down for was to ask you if youd care to have two or three tins of preserved fruit; weve got
quite a large stock.
Thanks, answered Sarda with alacrity.
Come across and collect them when you have time, Biggles told him, and with a cheerful
wave of farewell, led the way back to their quarters. Inside the rest-house Algy gave full rein to
his astonishment. Well, Im dashed, he muttered. If that doesnt beat the band. Id have bet my
life some one was in there.
Its time you knew that betting is called a mugs game, smiled Biggles.
I had a good look round and there wasnt an inch of space unaccounted for, said Ginger.
Quite right, agreed Biggles. Sarda is the only man in that house.
In which case he must have been talking to himself.
Not necessarily.
Algy started. You mean that he was talking to somebody?
Biggles nodded.
Who?
Ah I Thats what weve got to find out.
But where has the other fellow gone?
He was never there.
Are you trying to be funny?
Far from it. Mr. Sarda was speaking to somebody, but the person with whom he was
conversing might be anywhere in Africa.
You mean!
He was talking on the telephone.
Great heavens! I never thought of that. But I didnt see a telephone.
Neither did I, but I saw the wire.
Here he comes now, put in Ginger quickly.
Biggles made one of those quick decisions that had been responsible for much of his success in
the past. Look, Ginger, he said tersely, slip across to the hangar. As soon as you see Sarda come
in here, nip down to the bungalow, find the telephone receiver by following the lead-in wire, and,
if you can, pick it up and see if you can get on to anybody without giving yourself away. Jump to it;
we might find it difficult to keep Sarda here for very long.
Ginger went out as Sarda came in, and Biggles selected from the stores the tins of preserved
fruit that he had promised him.
Ah! Here you are, he said. Then, as a thought struck him, he added, Have a drink?
An unpleasant smile spread over Sardas face. Yaas, he said.
I cant let you have much, apologized Biggles, because we dont carry liquor in the ordinary
sense of the wordjust a bottle of brandy for medicinal purposes in case of accident; still, I dont
suppose it will taste any the worse for that. Where the dickens did you put that bottle, Algy? he
went on, making a long business of finding it, and then polishing a glass carefully before pouring a
small measure of the spirit into it. Anything to gain time.
Did you find a new landing-ground this morning, huh? asked the half-caste, sipping with relish
the brandy that Algy had passed over to him.
Biggles shook his head. No ; Im afraid its going to be a big job, he replied. I think it would
be a better proposition if a little more money was spent on this place, which would mean better
business for you, eh?
Sarda looked doubtful.
Insula wouldnt be a very popular place, of course, if you are going to allow mambas and
things to crawl about peoples machines, went on Biggles good humouredly, with the object of
putting to rest in Sardas mind any idea that they suspected him of being concerned with the snake
incident.
The half-caste laughed boisterously. You bet, he said ambiguously, putting down the now
empty glass. You flying again to-day, huh?
Biggles nodded. Yes, we shall make another flight presently, he answered. Out of the corner
of his eye he saw Ginger bolt out of the bungalow and run towards the hangar, so he knew there
was no point in delaying Sarda any longer. Well, well, well be seeing you sometimes, he
smiled.
The aerodrome manager picked up the tins that Biggles had given him. Yaas, he said again,
noncommittally, and with a nod of thanks left them.
That fellows yaas gets monotonous, muttered Algy after he had gone.
It does rather, but no doubt his English vocabulary is a bit limited. But unless Im mistaken, it
will be when he starts saying no that the fun will begin. But here comes Ginger. My goodness,
the lads pale. Hes discovered something, judging by the look on his face.
Ginger burst into the rest-house, but stopped short just inside the door, staring at the others.
Well? asked Biggles shortly. Have you got cramp in your tongue?
Ginger nodded. I have had, he answered grimly. I found that phone: its in a little box in the
kitchen. I took it out, put it to my ear, and wound up the thing like a self-starter. After a minute a
voice said Hello, but it sounded a long way away. I said Hello. Then a voice said, Youre
English? For Gods sake help me. I said Who are you ? Then he told me his name. Ginger
stopped, unconsciously dramatic.
Biggles eyed him coldly. Keep going, he said. What was the name ?
Ginger tossed his hat on to the table. Harry Marton, he said simply.
CHAPTER IV
SINISTER DEVELOPMENTS
THERE was a profound silence which lasted for some seconds after Ginger had made his
momentous announcement.
Biggles was the first to speak. Well, well, he said in a quiet voice, while a curious smile
spread slowly over his face. It did not express humour so much as comical surprise. This is a
development that I did not expect, he added whimsically.
Algy merely continued to stare at Ginger as if he could not believe his ears. Well, its
something to know young Marton is still alive, he observed presently in a tense voice.
Biggles hoisted himself on to a corner of the table and rubbed his chin reflectively. Whats
going on here, I wonder? he murmured. This has sort of taken the wind out of my sails with a
vengeance. We shall have to readjust our ideas, thats certain. What earthly reason could any one
have for kidnapping a perfectly harmless lad like Harry Marton? If any one can tell me the answer
to that I should be very glad.
Maybe somebody wanted his machine, suggested Ginger.
Biggles looked at him thoughtfully. Theres something in that, he said seriously. But why not
get rid of him altogether instead of leaving him alive, perhaps to bear witness one day against the
thief, or thieves? He is certain to get away if ever he gets a chance.
I think we may assume that the people who are holding him are not likely to give him a
chance, ventured Algy grimly. I should say myself that he had either seen something, or heard
something, that he shouldnt have seen or heard, and thats why theyve collared him.
Biggles nodded. Well, its not much use sitting here guessing; wed better start and do
something about it.
Are you going to let old man Marton know that the boys alive? inquired Algy.
No, I dont think so, replied Biggles, drumming on the table with his fingers. We dont know
whats behind this, and if a spy lets the people we are up against know what we know now, we
may be the means of causing the boys death. It would be a ghastly thing to raise the old mans
hopes only to dash them down again. I think wed better keep our knowledge to ourselves for the
present. Obviously the first thing weve got to do is to find out the direction in which that
telephone of Sardas leads, in order to get an idea of where the other end of it is. When we know
that I fancy our troubles will begin in earnest.
Why take the risk? Why not let the authorities know the truth so that they can handle the affair?
Theyve a better chance of clearing things up than we have.
And a better chance of putting the tin hat on the whole thing. One of the troubles of a service is
that it cant move without people knowing. It would be fatal to let the world know that Harry
Marton is alive, and we should have to reveal that fact before the authorities would help us. After
that anything might happen, but Marton would disappear for ever and we should just look a trio of
fools.
Well, whats our first move to be ? asked Ginger impatiently.
Biggles did not answer for a minute or two. I think the first thing should be to get on friendly
terms with Sarda and allay any suspicions that we may have aroused in his mind. I only hope that
Marton hasnt given the game away at his end of the line. Its a pity we dont know the direction of
it or we could do a bit of exploring from up topsides. We dont know that yet, but I hope we shall
soon find out. Meanwhile, I think it might be a good plan to pretend to leave the place for a time, in
which case Sarda might make a move that would tell us something. I say pretend because I
should remain concealed in the hangar to watch what happened after the machine was out of the
way. You can take her off and cruise around, keeping out of earshot. You might spot something, but
I dont think you will, because the other end of that telephone must be a long way away or it
wouldnt be necessary to have a telephone at all. Come on, lets be going.
Within a quarter of an hour the Dragons engines were ticking over just in front of the hangar, a
position from which only the front part of it was visible from the bungalow. Then, all wearing
flying kit, they made a business of getting aboard; but when the machine took off Biggles was
sitting on an empty oil drum at the back of the hangar.
Within five minutes of the machine leaving the ground Sarda emerged from the bungalow and
walked towards the hangar in a manner that left no doubt but that he had a definite object in view.
Biggles saw him coming and looked around quickly for a place of concealment. There was none,
but a pile of old sacking lying in a cornerkept, so Sarda had told them, for covering engines
when the wind was raising a dustoffered possibilities. Holding his breath, for the pile looked a
likely home for crawling things of all sorts, Biggles lay down beside the sacks and pulled them
over him. Almost at once he heard the soft pad of Sardas footsteps. There was silence for a
moment; then he heard them receding. After a cautious peep to make sure that the coast was clear,
he lost no time in evacuating his undesirable nest, and shaking himself violently to dislodge the
ants that were already indicating their disapproval at being disturbed, he dashed across to the
flimsy wall and peered through a crack just in time to see Sarda go back into the bungalow. He
waited, fully expecting to see him come out again, but that evidently was not the half-breeds
intention.
Then began an interminable wait which caused Biggles to wish fervently that he had decided on
some other plan, for what with the heat, which was almost unendurable, and the flies, which kept
up a vicious and continuous attack on all exposed parts of his person, he was driven nearly to
distraction. Torn between discarding his clothes on account of the heat, and muffling himself up in
his flying kit as protection against the insects, he could only pace up and down, stopping every few
seconds to glance at the bungalow. Leave the hangar he dare not for fear Sarda should see him, in
which case the half-breeds suspicions would certainly be increased rather than allayed.
An hour and a half passed in this way, and just as Biggles had reached the point when he felt
that whatever the cost might be he must rush out into the open or go mad, he heard a sound that set
his blood tingling and caused his troubles to recede to insignificance. It was the sound of an aero
engine, a single engine, ever increasing in volume, and before he had time to conjecture who the
stranger might be a black-painted Puss Moth had swept low over the hangar and landed in the
middle of the aerodrome. Swinging round almost in its own length, it then taxied tail up in the
direction of the rest-house, towards which Sarda was now walking briskly.
From his hiding-place Biggles saw the door of the cabin open, and a short, stockily built man
step out on to the baked earth; he beckoned impatiently to the half-caste, who broke into a run and
joined him near the door of the rest-house, where a swift altercation took place. It was only of
short duration, but from it Biggles learned two things. The first was that the new-comer was a
foreigner; and the second, that he was either Sardas employer or superior officer. That he was not
English was revealed clearly by the way he waved his hands when talking; and that Sarda was his
employee was made obvious by the half-castes servile manner. Indeed, his servility was not far
short of abject fear. So much Biggles was able to surmise within a minute of time. That the stranger
did not intend staying long was also suggested by the fact that he left his machine out in the broiling
sun with the engine ticking over; so Biggles was disagreeably surprised when, instead of getting
back into his machine at the end of the conversation, the Puss Moth pilot strode into the rest-house,
closely followed by Sarda.
Biggles bit his lip, for this was something he had not foreseen. In the rest-house were their
belongingspapers and miscellaneous kit that were too bulky to be carried about in their pockets
and the last thing he wanted was their inspection by the lessees of Insula aerodrome. Even
although it meant disclosing himself, he knew he must prevent that, for amongst his papers were
letters from Mr. Marton.
Swiftly, and without any attempt at concealment, he walked towards the rest-house. As he
approached it the voices of the occupants, speaking in broken English, reached him clearly, and he
slowed down to listen. Here it is, the new-corner was saying. Do what I tell you and we shall
have no more trouble. Nuzzing could be more simple.
But began Sarda, but the stranger interrupted him. Say no more, he said shortly. Leave all
ze rest to us; we make ze finish.
Then fell a silence that Biggles could not understand, so he walked quickly to the open door and
looked in. One glance was enough. The pilot, clad only in a thin sweater, shorts, shoes and
stockings, was opening Biggless log-book, which he had just taken from the kit-bag that lay open
at his feet. Sarda, with a white envelope in his hand, was watching him closely. Neither of them
saw Biggles standing in the doorway, and the announcement of his arrival was dramatic.
Can I help you ? he said quietly.
At the words, both Sarda and the stranger leapt round as if a gun had been fired. Sardas hand
flew to his shirt and the strangers went to his hip pocket. In that position they remained, while
Biggles eyed them coldly. I said, can I help you? he repeated.
A queer expression crossed the strangers face, while Sarda simply stared at him as if waiting
for a lead. Presently it came.
Ha! Why zere you are, cried the pilot effusively, removing his hand from his pocket. Zis fool
erehe indicated Sarda told me you were in ze air.
I changed my mind, answered Biggles calmly. Have you finished with my log-book? If so,
Ill put it back.
The other smiled apologetically. I vas just interest to know who come to zis part of ze world,
he explained with an expressive shrug of his shoulders.
Well, I can tell you all about it, replied Biggles suavely. Sorry I cant offer you a drink. My
name is Bigglesworth.
Mine is... LerouxLeon Leroux.
Biggles knew from the momentary hesitation that the man was lying, but he did not let him see it.
What are you doing in this part of the world, anyway? he asked coolly.
Oh, I fly for Stampoulos et Cie, of Cairo. They have tobacco plantations near.


Where?
Over zare. The other waved his hand vaguely.
Youre French, arent you ?
Yes.
Prefer to fly a British machine, though, eh?
My firm buy ze aeroplane, not me, answered the Frenchman quickly.
Thats a mistake, smiled Biggles. I wouldnt work for a firm who didnt allow me to choose
my equipment. But thats neither here nor there. If you leave your machine out in the sun much
longer the dope will be blistered off it.
The other walked towards the door. Yes, he said, and then hesitated. You are ver interested
in zis aerodrome, is it not? he inquired, eyeing Biggles shrewdly.
More or less. Weve been asked to have a look round, answered Biggles casually.
It is a bad place. Ze fever
`Yes, I know, interrupted Biggles smiling. Ive heard all about it from Sarda. Still, we shant
be here long, he added.
`No, you will not be here long, agreed the other slowly, in an expressionless voice, as he
walked towards his machine.
Biggles followed him out, wondering what he was really thinking, for the formal conversation
had meant nothing, and he was well aware of it. His eyes ran quickly over the machine as Leroux
got into his seat. Then he stepped back out of the slipstream as the engine roared, and waved his
hand as the machine raced across the barren earth and into the air.
He turned to find Sarda watching him narrowly. I suppose Mr. Leroux often comes here? he
observed, hoping to lead him into conversation.
But Sarda was not to be drawn. He my boss, he said in a surly voice, and turning on his heel,
walked quickly towards the bungalow.
Biggles retired to the rest-house and sat down to contemplate the situation. He was still sitting
there deep in thought when, twenty minutes later, the Dragon landed and the others joined him.
Well, have you discovered anything? he asked.
Algy shook his head. Nothing, he answered laconically. Have you?
Yes, replied Biggles.
Algy started, and Gingers eyes whipped round to his chief. What is it? they both asked
together.
While youve been away a machine has landed here, a Puss Moth belonging to the Stampoulos
Companythe people were up against. The pilot, with whom I had a short conversation, told me
his name was Leroux, but unless I am mistaken, he is Jean Lazarre, who lost his job with the
Aeropostale people a few years ago for being drunk on duty. Ive never seen him in the flesh, but I
remember seeing his photo in the French paper LAile, when he was reckoned to be one of the best
civil pilots in France. What happened to him afterwards I never heard, but he is here now, doing
the sort of job one would expect a man of his sort to be on.
Anything else ? asked Algy.
Biggles lit a cigarette and put his heel on the match. Yes, he said. As I told you, Leroux
wed better call him that for the time beingis flying a Puss. It is painted black, but here and there
where the paint has peeled off one can see another colour underneath; and that colour is
Red, muttered Ginger succinctly.
Biggles smiled. For one of such tender years your perspicacity approaches the abnormal, he
observed approvingly.
There was silence for a few moments. And what now? asked Algy, opening a bottle of soda
water.
As you rightly remark, what now ? murmured Biggles. Things are moving fastalmost too
fast. We shall skid if we arent careful. I caught Leroux in here going through my log-book. He has
given something to Sarda, something to do with us, I believe, but I dont know what it is. Leroux
suspects that we are what we really are, thats certain, but how much he actually knows about us is
more than I can say. I fancy Sarda told him over the telephone that the machine had gone off, so he
took the opportunity of slipping over to have a word with him and give him some instructions.
Weve got to watch out.
Which way did Leroux go when he took off?
Due east.
Which means that his head-quarters are somewhere in that direction.
You may be right, but I fancy it is more likely to mean that the plantationor whatever it is
lies to the west. That is, unless Leroux is a bigger fool than I take him to be. Even before he took
off I made a mental note that he would choose a line of flight other than the one he is most
concerned with.
What can we do to confirm it ?
Nothing at present, but as soon as it is dark I propose to find out the direction in which our
objective lies.
How ?
By seeing which way the telephone wire goes. Thats bound to go straight to it, because when
it was set up there was surely no need to lay a false trail. So unless any one has a better plan, what
I suggest is this. As soon as it is dark I am going down to the back of the bungalow to find out
where the telephone lead emerges, and then follow it for a distancethat is, assuming it is an
overhead wire, as I expect it will be. Youd better come with me, Algy, to keep cave. Ginger will
have to stay in the hangar while were away to guard the machine. With Sarda prowling about I
dont think it would be wise to leave it even for a moment. We dont want to get in it tomorrow
and then find that a longeron has been sawn through, or a turnbuckle unscrewed.
No, youre right there, declared Algy emphatically.
Good! Then if thats settled a bite of lunch wont do us any harm.
The remainder of the day passed slowly, though rather than waste time they employed
themselves by refuelling the machine and giving it a top overhaul. But the heat and the flies were
trying, and they were all glad when the sun sank behind the distant hills and darkness fell. There
was no moon, but one by one the stars came out and glowed against a background of sky that was
like purple velvet.
Well, I think its dark enough to be moving, announced Biggles, when he was satisfied that it
was safe to act. You know what you are to do, Ginger? Whatever happens, dont leave the
machine. If Sarda starts monkeying around, stop him; we shant be far awaynot out of earshot,
anyway.
Good enough, Chief, answered Ginger firmly. Can I take one of the rifles?
You may, but be careful what youre up to. Dont shoot me or Algy if we happen to walk in
unexpectedly.
Ill try not to, promised Ginger, smiling. I dont mind Sarda, but the idea of things creeping
about gives me the pins and needles down the back.
Never mind the pins and needles: you look after that machine, Biggles told him as, with Algy
by his side, he set off on a detour that would bring them to the rear of the bungalow, from the
window of which a shaft of yellow light told them that Sarda was at home.
Neither of them was accustomed to night work in a country where wild beasts roamed at large;
it called for an entirely different form of mental strength from flying, and more than once they
stopped and strained their eyes in the gloom when a slight sound suggested that they were not alone
in the coppice. They saw nothing, however, but it took them a good deal longer to reach their
objective than they had allowed for. Further, the business of finding the telephone lead in the
darknessfor with the windows of the bungalow blind-less, they dare not risk striking a match
was more difficult than they expected. In the end they found it, but by that time Biggless watch told
him that they had been away for nearly two hours.
We shall have to move faster than this or we shall be out all night, he breathed as, feeling
along the wire with his hand, he followed it to an insulator on a tree some ten or twelve yards
away from the house.
Thereafter there was no great difficulty in following the wire, but it was slow work. Once they
nearly stampeded as a dark form sprang up just in front of them and dashed away into the darkness.
We ought to have brought rifles with us, growled Algy as he stood staring wildly in the
direction in which the beast had disappeared. Automatics are about as much use as pea-shooters
in this sort of place. What do you suppose that was?
I havent the remotest idea, answered Biggles irritably. It might have been anything except an
elephant, and it wasnt big enough for that. Wheres that confounded wire?
It took them some minutes to find it again, but shortly afterwards it emerged from the coppice
into the open plain where, supported at intervals by bamboo poles sunk into the ground, it went in
a straight line for as far as they could see. The direction, as Biggles pointed out with a nudge at
Algy, was due west.
They followed it for a little way, but the direction remained constant, and at last Biggles
stopped. I dont think there is any point in following it farther, he said. If we fly on a compass
course due west, sooner or later we shall find what were looking for.
Could we see the wire from the air, do you think, if we flew low? asked Algy.
I doubt it, replied Biggles. That is, not unless we flew very low, which might be a bit risky in
this sort of country. In the early morning, while the sun is at an angle, we might sec the shadows of
the poles on the ground, but in the middle of the day, with the sun slap overhead, there wouldnt be
any shadows. Anyway, I dont think we need worry about that. If we fly west, and fly high, we
shall be able to see at least fifty or sixty miles in all directions in this atmosphere, andhark!
Both Biggles and Algy sprang round as the silence was broken suddenly by an unmistakable
noise. It was the soft, rhythmic purr of aero engines ticking over.
Great heaven! Thats the Dragon, gasped Algy.
I didnt think it was a buffalo, rasped Biggles. What does that young fool think hes up to, I
wonder?
Even then it did not occur to either of them that the machine was preparing to take off.
Hell fetch Sarda out to see whats going on, the young ass, began Algy. He got no farther, but
clutched Biggless arm as, with a deafening roar, the engines broke into full song. For a moment or
two the noise receded, then it increased again to earsplitting force as it swept towards them.
Staring up, they could just make out the dark silhouette of the machine as it raced low across the
sky on a westerly course.
As the sound faded away Biggles pulled his paralysed faculties together. Come on, he cried;
and regardless of Sarda, wild beasts, or anything else, he sprinted for dear life towards the hangar.
Ducking under branches and jumping over obstacles, Algy followed until, panting and
dishevelled, they dashed into the empty shed.
Ginger, cried Biggles sharply.
There was no reply.
With trembling fingers Biggles struck a match and looked around the floor, afraid of what he
might find. His eyes fell on a rifle lying in the dust; it was one of their own, and he glanced at Algy
with a peculiar expression on his face. Then, as the match went out, he drew a deep breath. Well,
he said, in a hopeless sort of voice, thats that. I cant say I blame myself or any one else; its hard
for any one to make allowances for this sort of thing. Wed better go down to the rest-house and
talk it over.
In the gaping doorway of the hangar they met Sarda, lantern in hand.
What is happening here ? he asked with studied politeness. Did I hear an aeroplanehuh?
Oh, no; it was just the breeze sighing through the trees, sneered Biggles sarcastically. Come
on, Algy.
Without another word they set off towards the rest-house.

CHAPTER V
ALONE WITH A LION
GINGER had been by no means happy when he left the others to take up his position of guard
over the Dragon. He was not exactly afraid, but the idea of remaining alone, in the dark, in a
building that would not have kept out a determined sheep, in the heart of lion-infested country,
gave himto use his own expressionpins and needles down the back. Nevertheless, it did not
occur to him to quibble at his allotted task.
On reaching the hangar his first act was to go into the machine and unlock the armament chest
with the key he had obtained from Biggles. From it he selected an Express rifle and a clip of
ammunition. Then he relocked the chest, put the key in his pocket, loaded the weapon, and with it
resting across his knees, took up a position on an oil-drum at the rear of the building from which it
was possible to command a view of the whole machine, the dark bulk of which he could just
distinguish in the gloom.
For a time all was silent, but the minutes passed slowly. Once a lion roared in the far distance,
and the sound did nothing to make him feel happier. Later, strange noises began to occur; soft
rustlings and unexplainable whispering sounds. What caused these he did not know, but as they
were obviously animal and not human, he did not investigate. Once, too, he distinctly heard the
faint swish of wings over his head, and looking up fearfully, with eyes now accustomed to the
darkness, he could just make out the form of a huge bat that circled the hangar thrice before
disappearing as mysteriously as it had arrived.
In such circumstances he had not the slightest fear of going to sleep, but in this he was mistaken,
for as the night wore on, although he certainly did not sleep, he was by no means wide awake
when a fresh sound brought every nerve in his body with a rush to the alert. Somewhere, not far
away, a dry twig had snapped. Obviously, only a weight could have caused the twig to break, and
he was well aware of it, although at the moment just what shape the weight in question took he had
no means of knowing. He was not kept long in suspense. There came a soft footfall, a muttered
word, and then a harsh, crackling noise. A wide slit of star-studded sky appeared, and he knew that
one of the rush-plaited doors of the hangar had been opened. No longer was he in any doubt as to
the character of the visitors. Animals might break twigs, but they did not open doors.
Leaving his seat, he crept stealthily as far back in the hangar as possible, both in order to
prevent his face being seen and in the hope that he might see something of the visitors who, until
then, had been just outside his field of view on account of the machine. He saw them at once. It
was too dark for faces to be recognized, but by his outstanding physique he could see that one was
Sarda; the other was a short, stoutish man whom he had never seen before.
Quietly and deliberately they opened the hangar doors wide, and then stood talking in whispers
just inside.
Now Ginger was in what is commonly called a quandary. Should he challenge them, at the same
time calling aloud for Biggles, or should he wait to see what they proposed to do? That was the
problem with which he was faced. As he reasoned it out, he decided that if the men were on
legitimate business, which admittedly seemed unlikely, his presence in the hangar and his actions
would make it clear to them that something in the nature of a trap had been set. In any case, if he
shouted for help, and the others came to his assistance, what could they say? What could they do?
No doubt the intruders would soon find a feasible excuse for being thereanyway, Sarda, who,
after all, as aerodrome manager had even more right there than he, Ginger, had. So he decided that
the only thing he could do was to let them commit themselves by some act of sabotage, if such was
their intention, before he disclosed his presence.
It was quite a sensible course to adopt, but he was utterly unprepared for what was to follow.
Not when Sarda turned and walked away towards the bungalow did he suspect it; nor even when
the stranger opened the door of the machine and got inside. When he heard the whirr of the self-
starter the explanation struck him like a blow, but by that time the engines had come to life and the
propellers were filling the hangar with a dust-laden whirlwind.
Now, only those who have stood immediately behind the revolving propellers of an aeroplane
on a dusty aerodrome have any idea of just what the effect can be. Ginger was literally blinded
temporarily, of course. To open his eyes was a physical impossibility, so he could only grope his
way to the machine. His questing hands found the tail, and worked their way along the fuselage
until they came to the door. It was shut. By the time he got it open the machine was moving
forward, slowly, but with swiftly increasing speed, and as the full desperation of the situation
struck him he acted in a sort of frenzy of consternation. He dropped the rifle, for it only impeded
him, and flung himself through the doorway. He was round in an instant, and although he was still
unable to see, he managed to close the door behind him. Then he sank down and put his hands over
his eyes, for the pain in them was intense.
It was two or three minutes before he could see reasonably well, and by that time the machine
was in the air, banking steeply as the pilot turned. I suppose I ought to be thankful that Im inside,
he thought, as he rose to his feet and blinked forwards towards the cockpit, where he could just see
the vague outline of the pilot, clearly unaware of his presence, silhouetted against the glow of the
luminous instrument board. Feeling in his pocket he took out his automatic. Then, with a sudden
feeling of helplessness, he sat down again, for he perceived that although he held all the
advantages of surprise attackperhaps the most vital element in fighting of any sorthe was by
no means master of the situation. To attempt to hold up Leroux for such he assumed the pilot to
beat the point of a gun must be a palpable bluff, and the Frenchman, when confronted, could
hardly fail to realize it. It would he no use telling him to go back and land. However much he,
Ginger, might threaten, the man could ignore him with impunity, knowing perfectly well that he
dare not use his weapon even if he was capable of shooting an unarmed man at point-blank range,
for during the interval that must inevitably elapse while he was removing the body in order to get
to the controls, the machine would fall out of control and crash. Added to this, there was always
the risk of the body falling across the joystick and jamming it.
The more Ginger thought about it the more awkward the situation appeared. He had enough
common sense to see that by revealing himself he automatically reduced by a considerable margin
his chance of success in any plan he might formulate. So in the end he did nothing, but resolved to
preserve his advantage of surprise until the machine was on the ground, when it could be employed
with telling effect.
He had barely reached this decision when, to his astonishment, the roar of the engines died
away and the nose of the machine tilted down, the pilot obviously making preparations to land. He
could see him peering down while he held the Dragon in a steady spiral glide.
In something like a panic, he looked about for a hiding-place, for the dark interior of the cabin
was not the ideal place to start proceedings. The luggage compartment in the rear was clearly
indicated, and into it he bundled just as the wheels touched the ground in a landing that was by no
means smooth. For a minute or two he remained where he was, hardly daring to breathe, ears
strained for any sound that might indicate the pilots movements. At first, after the machine had
finished its run, he could hear him moving about, but then there was silence. Slowly, an inch at a
time, with his automatic held at the ready, he opened the door. There was no sign of the pilot. With
finger crooked round the trigger, he opened the door wider, but was still unable to see Leroux.
With no sound in his ear but the beating of his heart, he crept out. The machine was empty. A short
rush took him to the cockpit, but there was no one in it. Then the open cabin door told its own
story. Leroux had left the machine.
Ginger must be forgiven for hesitating, for the situation was both unusual and nerve-testing. But
he did not wait long. His first inclination was to get into the now vacated seat, push the throttle
open and take off, and he strained his eyes through the windscreen to see what sort of country lay
in front of him; but it was too dark to make out the details beyond the fact that the ground was
covered with long, coarse grass with an isolated tree here and there. Whether he was facing an
open runway, or whether the nose of the machine was pointing to the near edge of the landing-
ground and the obstacles that would undoubtedly occur there, he could not tell, and anxious as he
was to get away, he knew that to attempt to take off in such circumstances would be an act of
madness. Where was Leroux? What on earth was he doing?
Swiftly he made his way to the cabin door and looked out. In the dim starlight he could just see
that in all directions except one the ground was flat, a wilderness of dry earth and coarse grass; but
behind the machine, some fifty to a hundred yards away beyond the tail, a sombre, blurred mass
rose high into the night sky. From the ragged outline of the top he could just make out that it was
either the edge of a forest or a clump of trees. But of Leroux there was neither sight nor sound.
What the man was doing in such a place he could not imagine; nor did he care particularly, for his
main idea still was to get the machine into the air and back to Insula with all possible speed. As
near as he could judge they had been in the air about twenty minutes to half an hour, which meant
that Insula was at least fifty miles away, but in what direction he could only guess. That did not
worry him; once in the air he could cruise round in a wide circle until he saw a landmark he
recognized, after which the location of the aerodrome would be a fairly simple matter.
His next move was a mistake. Later, and in the very near future, he realized it, but at the moment
he was so taken up with the idea of getting away before Leroux returned that he proceeded with the
plan to the exclusion of everything else. A hundred yards was all the distance needed to get the
lightly loaded machine off the ground, and it was with the object of examining the surface that he
jumped out and ran quickly for a little way in the direction in which the nose of the machine was
pointing. He may have gone seventy or eighty yards; then he stopped, peering into the gloom.
Satisfied that the course was clear, he was about to turn back to the machine when a low, choking
grunt brought him round with a rush to the point whence it came, which was a few yards to the
right. To his horror he saw a dark form rise slowly out of the grass. From the centre of it two orbs
of green light glowed balefully.
Too late he realized what he had almost forgotten: that he was not on a European aerodrome but
in untamed Africa. To say that he was petrified with fright is to express his sensations but mildly.
He was not rooted to the ground, as the saying is, but he felt as if he was. At least, he was quite
unable to move, although he wanted to run more than ever in his life before. Fortunately, he did not
do so, or this story might have had a different ending. He just stood and stared, moistening his dry
lips with his tongue. The creature, whatever it wasfor he did not know for certain, although he
supposed it to be a liondid not move either, and thus they remained for several seconds.
At the end of that time he began to think more clearly, and remembering his automatic, he took it
out and levelled it. At the precise moment that his finger was tightening on the trigger there came a
sound that put a new complexion on the situation. It was the door of the Dragon being slammed.
Simultaneously, the green orbs went out as abruptly as electric lights that have been switched off.
The Dragons engines roared. The noise threw him into a condition of hopeless despair such as he
had never before experienced, but there was little time to dwell upon the calamity. With a bellow
that shook the earth the engines roared full out, and an instant later he saw the black bulk of the
machine rushing towards him. For a second he stood transfixed; then he flung himself flat as the
machine swept past him not five yards away, the wing-tips actually passing over his recumbent
body.
He was up in a moment, staring wild-eyed at the spot where the lion had been. It was no longer
there. Quickly he looked round, but the beast had completely disappeared. Nevertheless, the relief
he experienced at this discovery was more than a little squashed when he realized that he was
alone on the veldt.
But was he? When he thought about it he was by no means sure, and he would have been far
more comfortable in his mind had he been certain of it. What was to be done ? He must think
think.
What would Biggles do in a case like this, he asked himself, but he could find no answer until a
solitary tree about a hundred yards away caught his eye. To his distraught mind it was like an
island to a shipwrecked mariner, and he started off towards it with more haste than dignity; but he
had not taken a dozen paces when, happening to glance over his shoulder, his worst fears were
realized. The lion was trotting along behind him. He stopped. The lion stopped.
He could see it clearly now, see the great tufted tail switching from side to side. The desire to
run was almost uncontrollable, but the first shock of horror having worn off, he had the sense to
realize the folly of it, for there is no creature on earth that can outdistance a lion over a hundred
yards, which it can cover in three or four mighty springs.
Slowly, still watching the beast, he began to edge nearer to the tree, a move to which the lion
instantly responded by uttering a low growl. It reminded him of what he had once read in a book,
that all wild animals are afraid of the sound of the human voice. Forthwith he proceeded to put this
to the test. The noise that emanated from his dry throat was by no means a triumphant shout; to him
it sounded more like a plaintive howl, so the test was hardly a fair one. In any case it failed, for the
lion took not the slightest notice of it, but stood its ground, regarding him with significant interest.
Ginger, in his despair, remembered something else, and he could have kicked himself for not
thinking of it earlier. In his pocket was a box of matches. It was the work of a moment to find it and
drop a lighted match into the dry grass. To his infinite relief a little tongue of flame licked hungrily
round his shoes. There was no breeze to help it, but the grass was tinder dry, and crackled
cheerfully as the flames began to spread in a little circle. It had the disadvantage of making it
difficult to see clearly what lay outside the radius of light, but he could just make out the form of
the lion backing slowly away, and he offered a prayer of thankfulness.
Following up his advantage, he walked to the outside of the circle of fire on the side nearest to
the tree and repeated the performance. Thereafter the gaining of his goal became only a matter of
time, although he had some anxious moments as he crossed small areas of bare earth, similar to
those that occurred at Insula, which he knew were caused by the levelling of ant-hills.
He had rather a job to climb the lower part of the tree, for the trunk was bare of branches, but
his fears lent him unsuspected strength, and he managed to find a secure perch in a fork fairly near
the top, from which he regarded with disfavour the fires he had started; for while they were
burning only in a desultory sort of way, the smoke hung about and made his eyes and throat smart
unmercifully. However, on the whole he had little cause for complaint, he decided, as he settled
down to review the state of affairs, trying to muster the facts into some sort of coherent order.
First of all there was Biggles and Algy. What would they be thinking? They would have heard
the Dragon take off, of course, and rush to the spot. What would they do then? What could they do,
stranded as they were at Insula, without transport and hopelessly cut off from civilization? And
Leroux? Where had he taken the machine? Wherever it was, there seemed small chance of
recovering it. Why had he done it? Obviously, either to leave them stranded or to curtail their
activities; to prevent them from findingwhat? In either case it was a cunning move; Ginger was
forced to admit that. How had Leroux achieved it? How had he managed to take off in the Puss, yet
return to the aerodrome so quickly on foot?for it was certain that he had not landed in an
aeroplane. That would have been impossible without its being heard. These were questions for
which he could find no answer, and which time alone might explain.
Somehow or other he had got to get back to Insula, there was no doubt about that, for it was
useless to expect Biggles or Algy to come to his assistance when they could have no idea of where
he was. In which direction was Insula? It gave him a severe jolt when he was forced to admit to
himself that he did not know, although if Biggless theory had been correct when they had
discussed why the Puss Moth had taken off towards the east, Insula ought to lie in an easterly
direction. Biggles had contended that Lerouxs easterly take-off had been only a blindthat his
real destination lay to the west. Following that line of argument, the Dragon would have been on a
westerly course when it landed, and if that were so, then Insula must now be to the east. But even if
this assumption were correct, the thought of walking fifty or sixty miles across wild-beast-infested
country without a rifle, and without food or water, appalled him; yet he could see no alternative if
he was ever to get back.
At last, with his brain aching from the contemplation of so many vital problems, he leaned back
with a sigh of weariness and prepared to wait for the dawn.

CHAPTER VI
SARDA STRIKES
AFTER the first shock occasioned by the disappearance of the Dragon had passed off,
Biggless reasoning ability quickly returned to normal. Taking an electric torch, he went back with
Algy to the hangar and made a thorough examination of the place, both inside and out, Algy
assisting him in the search. They found nothing more, of course, for the simple reason that there
was nothing more to be found, but Biggles was able to reconstruct the scene fairly accurately.
Ginger was sitting over there on the oil drum when the business started, he observed half to
himself. Leroux then came in and went to the machine.
Algy started. You think Leroux did it?
Who else? Ginger was hardly likely to take the machine off himself, and the chances against
any other pilot but Leroux being in the district must be pretty remote. As I say, some one, who for
the sake of argument we will assume was Leroux, got into the machine, or attempted to do
something to it ; whereupon Ginger came across to see what was going on. Leroux must have seen
him and struck him down. He then put him into the machine and flew it away, leaving the rifle
where it had fallen.
But why in the name of goodness should he take Ginger with him?
God knows. But he isnt here, is he?
Algy shook his head. Im sorry, old lad, but your theory strikes me as being a bit weak in
places. I cant think that Leroux would lumber himself up with a prisoner.
I cant imagine Ginger getting in of his own free will. And what about young Marton? Hes
being held prisoner, isnt he?
Algy nodded. Thats true enough, he admitted reflectively.
Then as I see it the odds are that before the night is out Ginger will either find himself with, or
in the same place as young Marton.
Dont overlook the possibility that Leroux might have killed him and taken the body away to
cover up the crime.
Biggles thought for a moment. I cant somehow think thats likely, he observed. Had there
been a struggle, Ginger would have cried out and we should have heard him. In the same way we
should have heard a shot if Leroux had used a gun.
He might have used a knife.
In which case, surely there would be bloodstains.
Yes, I suppose there would.
I suppose it wasnt quite fair of us to leave him here alone; but without making any excuses I
must confess that I did not think matters had reached the stage when these peopleStampoulos
Leroux or whoever they arewould go to such lengths as this. Well, I dont think its much use
staying here; lets get back.
Without speaking they walked over to the rest-house.
Im afraid its going to be a bad business for Ginger, muttered Biggles, with a worried frown,
when they were inside. And for us, if it comes to that. Without transport our hands are absolutely
tied. It would be out of the question for us to start walking about looking for him; we might spend
the rest of our lives searching in a country of this size, even if it were possible to get about without
supplies, which it isnt. It seems to me that the only thing left for us is to get to Malakal and cable
home for another machine.
Get to Malakalhow ?
Hoof it; theres no other way.
You dont think these people will make another move?
Why should they? Theyve effectually put us out of action, as no doubt they intended.
What about seizing Sarda and making him speak?
How would you propose to do that?
By beating the hide off his back if necessary. Hes a dirty skunk.
Biggles smiled grimly. I dont think he could tell us much even if he wanted to; I fancy he is in
a very subordinate position, he said. Then he started. By gosh! I tell you what we can do,
though, he whispered sibilantly. What about the telephone?
Yes, by James! We can at least tell these swine what well do to them if they dont send
Ginger back.
I dont think were in exactly the position to threaten, Biggles reminded him gently.
No, perhaps not. Never mind, lets go.
Wait a minute; not so fast. What do you suppose Sarda is going to say if we just stroll in and
ask him if he minds us using his telephone?
Why ask? Lets stick a gun in his ribs and tell him.
Your impetuosity will one day be your downfall, I fear, murmured Biggles sadly. Fixed as
we are, I think it would be a wiser plan to keep what few cards we hold up our sleeves. I also
think that we should be fools to start a rough house with our dark-skinned friend in the middle of
the night; no doubt he could find his way about blindfolded, whereas we hardly know it in broad
daylight. No, well wait for morning and then say what we have to say. When in doubt, sleep on
it, is a very sound axiom. For the moment well get some sleep, although wed better take it in
turns; the idea of closing my eyes while I am within striking distance of that wall-eyed baboo
becomes more repugnant every minute.
The remainder of the night passed slowly, for although they tried to sleep, the knowledge of
their desperate plight made it difficult, and they were both glad therefore when the sky grew grey
with the approach of dawn, and the light enabled them to see about the preparation of a meal
before proceeding to the prosecution of their plan.
Algy, whose job it was to make the coffee, strolled to the door and looked out while he was
waiting for the pot to boil. He was back instantly, gripping Biggless arm excitedly. Heres Sarda
coming now, he said tersely.
Biggles swung round. Sarda!
Yes.
What the dickens does he want at this hour, I wonder ?
I dont know, but it looks as if hes carrying something.
All right; stand fast. Dont let him see were antagonistic.
A moment later the half-caste appeared in the doorway. Goot morning, he said cheerfully.
Morning, answered Biggles, smiling. What have you got there?
Sarda was holding a large calabash in his hand. Milk, he replied. I think perhaps you like
milk with coffee, huh?
Biggles stared. Milk! he cried. Where did you get it?
Sarda raised his eyebrows as if questioning Biggless surprise. From my goat, he explained.
Of course, nodded Biggles, who remembered seeing the animal tethered at the back of the
bungalow. Thats very kind of you, he went on. A little fresh milk will be a treat. If the half-
caste was anxious to hold out the olive branch, it was up to them to accept it, he thought. By the
way, he continued, I suppose you know that our young friend went off last night on a joy-ride and
hasnt come back?
Yaas, I heard him go, was the frank answer.
If hes had to make a forced landing out on the veldt hell be in a mess, Biggles told him. And
without an aeroplane to look for him, so are we. What do you think would be the quickest way of
getting in touch with Mr.what was his name?Leroux. The gentleman who landed here
yesterday. He cant be very far away, and he might be willing to help us.
Yaas, sure hell help you, declared Sarda emphatically. You ring him up on my telephone.
Algy, who had heated the milk and was pouring it over the coffee in the cups, nearly dropped
the lot in his agitation at this very unexpected suggestion. Even Biggles was at a loss for words for
a second or two.
Telephone! he exclaimed. You didnt tell us you had a telephone.
You never asked me, returned Sarda simply.
Thats true enough, Biggles had to admit. Where does it go to? he inquired quickly.
To Karuli.
Wheres that ?
Thats the tobacco plantation where my boss lives.
Why, thats fine, declared Biggles. Sit down a minute while I drink my coffee and Ill come
back with you. I shant be a minute.
Nothing more was said until Biggles drained his cup and then stood up, reaching for his hat
which lay on the table. Suddenly, as if his legs were too weak to support him, he sat down again.
Dash it! he muttered, I feel queer. Must have got a touch of fever. He raised his hand to his
forehead. Algy, do you mind passing me the quinine?
A moment later, as Algy made no reply, he raised his head wearily and looked across at him.
He was sitting on his bed, swaying gently, while beads of perspiration rolled down his pale face.
Sorry, he said slowly, as if with an effort, but I cant move.
With a dreadful suspicion in his mind Biggles turned towards Sarda, although it required a
tremendous effort of strength to do so. The half-caste was grinning broadly.
You like my milk ? he sneered.
You swine! Biggles ground the words out through his teeth. He tried to reach to his pocket for
the automatic he carried there, but the effort was too much for him and he sagged forward limply.
Calmly, and without haste, Sarda walked across to him, removed the gun from his pocket and
tossed it on to the table, afterwards treating Algy in the same way. Then he walked to the door.
Ill be back, he said with an unpleasant leer.
Algyold sonIm afraidwere sunk, whispered Biggles weakly. That skunk has
poisoned us.
Algy made no reply; he had rolled on to the floor and lay rigid. Only his eyes moved and
showed that he was still conscious.
Biggles felt his strength ebbing fast. For a minute he fought against the action of the toxin as he
had never fought before, but it was in vain. He made a stupendous effort to get to the table where
the automatics lay, but it was beyond his strength, and he collapsed backwards across the low
camp bed.
Lying thus, on the point of unconsciousness, he saw Sarda reappear, and, in a dreamy,
subconscious way, saw that he carried a can of petrol in his hand. The half-caste unscrewed the
cap and then proceeded to splash the contents of the can on the flimsy walls of the building. When
it was empty he tossed it aside and took out a box of matches. With a match between his fingers he
turned to Biggles. You think youre damn smart, he sneered. But you aint smart enough. Not
likely. He struck the match. Presently Im going to make out report how English gents like fools
made big camp fire in the rest-house and set the whole place afire. Got burnt to death. Good story
huh? And no one to say no. Only me here to see it so no one calls me a liar. Now I go outside
and hark at you frizzling. With that he struck the match and tossed it against the petrol-soaked
wall. With a dull, terrifying roar a sheet of flame leapt upwards.
CHAPTER VII
GINGER COMES HOME
FOR Ginger the long night passed slowly. He saw no more of the lion. One by one the fires he
had started died down and went out, and in spite of his predicament the desire for sleep became
almost irresistible: more than once he caught himself nodding. Yet sleep he dare not, for fear he
fell off his perch and injured himself, for he had no means of tying himself to the branches between
which he sat astride.
It was, therefore, with profound relief that he saw the stars begin to pale, and the faint flush of
dawn steal upward from the eastern horizon. A shaft of light shot upwards, another, and another,
and in spite of his position he found heart to admire the glory of the African sunrise.
He waited no longer. A searching scrutiny of the landscape revealed nothing more alarming
than a small herd of giraffes peacefully grazing, their ungainly legs outstretched, a mile or two to
the south, so he prepared to evacuate his haven of refuge. Before he did so, however, he glanced
fearfully at the edge of the forest, still dark and forbidding, not more than a few hundred yards
away. His eyes fell on something and he started, an expression of incredulity crossing his face. At
the risk of falling, he leaned forward and stared as if he could not believe his eyes, for standing
amongst the trees on the edge of the forest, close to a tumble-down shack, was an aeroplane. It was
a Puss Moth, painted black.
A short, sharp scuffle, in which he left some of the skin of the palms of his hands on the rough
bark of the tree, and he was on the ground, running towards his new hope of deliverance. He
slowed down as he neared it, and advanced towards the but cautiously, automatic at the ready. No
sound came from inside, so very quietly he opened the door and peeped in. The but was empty.
That is to say, it contained no human occupant, although there were other things which at first made
his eyes go round with wonder.
Stacked on one side was a high pile of petrol-cans, which a swift investigation showed were
full. There was also a spare propeller, two under-carriage wheels, some fabric, and tins of dope.
On a shelf were some tins of bully beef, biscuits, and condensed milk. An emergency repair
depot, eh? he breathed, as he took in all these things with a sweeping glance. My goodness! This
is a bigger thing than we thought, and no mistake.
There was nothing else of interest, so he went out, closing the door behind him, and hurried
towards the Puss. The tanks, he found, were more than half full, which was far more than he would
need for the short run to Insula, so he did not stop to fill them up, for he was afraid that some one
might arrive at any moment. Inside five minutes he had started the engine and had taxied out to the
spot from which the Dragon had taken off. Watching carefully ahead for obstacles, he opened the
throttle, and with fierce exultation in his heart, swept over the burnt patches of his fires into the air.
But his troubles were not yet over, for before many minutes had passed he detected a certain
roughness in the engine, and a glance at the rev-counter confirmed what his ears had told him. The
needle was flickering unpleasantly, and as he watched it he saw it sink slowly backwards. The
trouble, whatever it was, was not very bad, but once trouble starts in an aero engine it usually
develops quickly if it is allowed to run on, and this case was no exception, for although he
throttled back to as near stalling point as he dare risk, the rev-counter dropped steadily, while the
ever-rising thermometer warned him that if he went on much longer the whole thing might seize up.
If I can only get back to the aerodrome I dont mind, he thought desperately, as he throttled
right back for a few seconds and dipped his nose in the hope of cooling the engine. But it was not
to be. The noise grew steadily worse, and the vibration became alarming. He gave a grunt of
satisfaction as his anxiously questing eyes picked out a dried-up waterhole that he had marked
down on an earlier flight ; it was not more than three or four miles from Insula, and looking ahead
he could just see the small clump of trees that hid the bungalow.
At that moment there was a sharp explosion in the engine and a little cloud of black smoke
swirled away aft. Its no use, he told himself bitterly as he throttled right back and examined the
ground swiftly for a landing-place, for he had very little altitude.
The country was still fairly open, sun-baked earth for the most part covered with the usual
coarse grass, and here and there stunted trees, alone and in little groups. There were also an
unpleasant number of high, conical mounds which he knew were ant-hills, and it was these that
worried him most. However, he chose the most open place he could see within gliding distance,
and with teeth clenched he side-slipped down to land, for the place he had chosen was almost
immediately below him. The wheels touched, bumped, and bumped again, and then the whole
machine quivered as it ran over the rough surface. He pressed on the rudder with his left foot as a
low group of ant-hills appeared directly in his path; the machine swerved sickeningly, and for a
moment he thought his under-carriage must collapse, but it stood up to the strain, and the machine
came to rest in a little fold in the ground.
Well, Im down, anyway, he muttered, expressing the relief that most pilots would have
experienced in similar circumstances; and his relief was intensified by the knowledge that the
machine was likely to prove their only link with civilization. He switched off the petrol and
ignition and then jumped to the ground. There was nothing more he could do.
He did not like the idea of leaving the machine out in the sun, but there was no help for it; all he
could do was to hurry to the aerodrome and advise the others of how things stood. Between them
they might be able to effect the necessary repairs and get the machine into the hangar at Insula
before the sun reached its zenith. Accordingly, he took a last look round to make sure there were
no wild animals about, and then set off at a steady trot in the direction of the aerodrome.
A trifle more than half an hour later, hot and dishevelled, he arrived at the aerodrome, and after
a glance at the empty hangar and the bungalow, he turned his steps towards the rest-house. He was
still several yards away when he was amazed to hear Sardas voice speaking, although he could
not catch the words. Wondering what was going on, he hurried forward just in time to catch
Sardas last sentence when he informed Biggles that he was going outside to hark at them
frizzling.
Ginger heard the whoof of the petrol as it flamed up, and then Sarda appeared in the doorway.
Considering that the half-caste was taken completely unawares, he acted with commendable
promptitude. His right hand flew to his shirt. Gingers hand flashed to his pocket. Both weapons
came out together. There was a flash of steel as the knife sped through the air. Simultaneously,
Gingers gun roared. A sharp stinging pain in the cheek made him jerk his head convulsively, but
he recovered himself to see the half-caste stumble, clutching at his chest. For a moment or two he
swayed, coughing; then his legs seemed to collapse and he pitched forward on to his face.
In a kind of daze Ginger leapt over the fallen body and tore into the rest-house, trying to fight off
with his arms the heat that seemed to be blistering his skin. He saw Biggles lying across his bed
and Algy stretched out on the floor. At the same time he was also subconsciously aware of a snake
that was threshing about on the table on to which it had evidently fallen from the blazing roof.
Stooping, he seized Algy, who was the nearer, by the collar, and dragged him outside. Then he
dashed back to Biggles. The heat was appalling, and his nostrils were filled with the stench of
singeing hair and clothes. Seeming to move in a ghastly nightmare from which he could not
awaken, he dragged his two unconscious comrades farther out on to the aerodrome, and then made
a final sally into the flames for the kit-bags. He saw the rifle and the two automatics lying on the
table, and paused for a moment to fling them through the doorway before snatching up the kit-bags
and leaping clear. He would have liked to save some of their stores, but it was out of the question,
so he ran towards Sarda, who was still lying near the doorway where he had fallen. But before he
could reach him there was a rending, tearing crash, and the whole building collapsed in a cloud of
flying sparks, burying the half-caste under the debris. Another moment and Ginger, too, would have
been caught in the blazing ruin; as it was, he only just managed to leap back in time.
He saw that the sky had turned a peculiar shade of purple, and wondered vaguely why. His face
was still smarting and he raised his hand to it to see what was the matter. It felt wet and sticky, and
unaccountably his legs began to tremble. Im going to faint, he thought, but I wont... I wont.
Water... I must get water.
Unsteadily he began to run towards the bungalow. The movement saved him and the crisis
passed, and by the time he reached the building he felt better, although his actions still seemed to
be unnatural and automatic. He found a pail of water in the kitchen and drank deeply, using his
cupped hands. He also splashed some of the water over his face.
Then he snatched up the bucket and ran back to where the others lay. They looked ghastly, and a
dreadful fear that they were dead set him trembling again.
Hi, Biggles, he croaked, tipping some of the water over the white face. Then he treated Algy
in the same way. But it was a good five minutes before he could get any response. Then Biggles
moaned feebly and opened his eyes. Slowly, from vague wonderment, recognition crept into them.
Hello, he said with a foolish smile. Where the dickens have you sprung from?
Ginger tried to speak, but the sky seemed to be going dark again. It was nearly black, and the
sun a great white ball that bounced about on it. II he faltered, but he could get no farther. His
knees crumpled under him and he flopped down like a coat falling from a peg.
CHAPTER VIII
SAVAGES
WHEN he opened his eyes again he was lying in the shade inside the hangar. Biggles, in his
shirt sleeves, was dabbing his face with a wet rag, while Algy, still looking very groggy, was
watching the proceedings.
Feeling better ? grinned Biggles.
Ginger struggled into a sitting position, his hand going to his face at the same time. Whats all
this? he asked as his fingers came in contact with a rough bandage that had been bound round his
head.
We had to tie your face up, Biggles told him. Somehow or other youve managed to cut it
pretty badly; it isnt deep, but youve bled quite a bit.
Sardas knife did it, announced Ginger briefly.
Biggles whistled. My gosh! You must have had a pretty close squeak.
Closish, admitted Ginger.
Where did Sarda go?
Go?
Yes, where is he now? There isnt a sign of him.
Ginger scrambled to his feet, walked unsteadily to the door of the hangar and pointed to the
smoking remains of the rest-house. Hes under there, he said quietly.
Biggles stared at him. How did it happen? he asked.
I shot him, muttered Ginger. Not intentionally, though. We met at the door. He went for his
knife and I pulled my gun, intending to tell him to put his hands up; but before I could speak he
flung the knife at me and somehow or other the gun went off. I remember feeling the knife whizz
past my cheek, andwell, I dont know quite what happened after that, except that I managed to
drag you out and was just going to haul Sarda clear when the whole place collapsed on top of
him.
There was silence for a few moments.
Well, no one can say that he hasnt got his deserts, observed Biggles philosophically. If ever
there was a cold-blooded murderer he was one. It may sound callous, but Im no hypocrite, and I
dont mind telling you that I feel happier with him out of the way. What with losing the Dragon and
all our stores we are in a bad enough mess without him taking pot shots at us. And now, if youre
feeling well enough to talk, you might tell us what happened in here last night. In fact, there are a
lot of things I should like to hear, such as where youve been and how you got back here so
providentially. Another five minutes and all youd have found of us would have been cinders.
Briefly, but omitting nothing of importance, Ginger described the events from the time Leroux
made his entry into the hangar.
The sooner we get out to that Puss the better, declared Biggles, when he had finished. With it
weve got a good chance to put up a show; without it were sunk. How far away is it, do you
think?
I should say about three miles.
Thats three-quarters of an hours walk. Do you feel fit enough to travel?
Me! Im as right as rain, answered Ginger. But what about you and Algy? Neither of you look
in what one might call the pink of condition.
I think were pretty well all right, answered Biggles. At least, I am, except for a sort of
stiffness in the joints. How about you, Algy?
Same as you, replied Algy quickly. A bit stiff and a headache, thats all. I wonder what that
dope was Sarda gave us.
Never mind about that; Im glad it was only a drug and not poison. Lets muster up our things
and get away. It seems reasonable to suppose that Leroux will soon be looking for his Puss, and
weve got to get to it first. Its fairly clear now to see what happened. After he left here yesterday
morning he didnt go back to Karuli, or whatever Sarda called his headquarters, but dropped down
at that secret landing-ground of his either because his engine was giving trouble or because he had
resolved to steal our machine. I rather suspect it was on account of his engine, though, because,
having given Sarda the dope to put us out of actionthat was what was in the envelope he gave
him, I expecthe could have come back here today without any risk. He may have been in a hurry
to get to Karuli, and when his engine started to conk he decided to go down and come back for our
machine.
It was a tidy step if he came on foot, put in Ginger.
Possibly he had a horse. I should say that that telephone of Sardas goes to the aerodrome
where you found the Puss, or at least passes through it. Did you notice a receiver in the hut,
Ginger?
No, I didnt, but I wasnt there many seconds and I might easily have overlooked it.
I was thinking that perhaps Leroux got into touch with his headquarters at Karuli from there.
No matter; he got back here somehow, as we know to our cost. But wed better not stay here
talking. Lets get some food and water from the bungalow and make a bee-line for the Puss. With
three automatics and a rifle we ought to be able to give a good account of ourselves if any one
starts any rough stuff.
What are you going to do with the machine? Algy asked Biggles, as they all walked to where
their kit-bags still lay on the aerodrome.
Put the engine right if we can and fly it back here. Then, after weve had a rest, well either go
to Malakal and report what has happened, or else go and have a look for this plantation that weve
heard so much about. I cant quite make up my mind which is the best course, but well talk more
about that when weve got the machine. Wed better park these in the bungalow for the time being,
Biggles added, as they picked up their kit-bags.
Its not much use trying to do anything aboutthat, he concluded, nodding towards the still
smouldering ruins of the rest-house. It will be hours before those ashes have cooled down.
They hurried on to the bungalow, put their kit in the living-room, and after closing the doors and
windows, they set off in the direction of the abandoned aeroplane.
Suppose the telephone rings? asked Ginger as they hurried along.
I thought of that, nodded Biggles. In fact, I seriously considered putting a call through, but
decided that it would be better left alone. The silence will get the people at the other end guessing,
whereas if we try to use it we might easily slip up, which would tell them that Sardas scheme has
misfired, and that we are in charge of the situation here. Its another thing we shall have to think
about when we get back. For the present, I shant have any peace until weve got that machine in
safe custody.
They had no difficulty in finding the Puss Moth, nor did they encounter trouble of any sort on the
way. For this they were all thankful, for what with nervous reaction after what they had been
through, sheer weariness, and the heat of the sun, they were in no case to meet adversity with their
customary optimism.
Well, here she is, observed Biggles, as he opened the cabin door. Its Harry Martons
machine, theres no doubt about that. Look! He pointed to the fabric under the exhaust pipe where
the black paint had been rather carelessly applied, with the result that the original red dope
showed through it as a dull maroon tint. Did you form any opinion as to what was wrong with the
engine, Ginger?
Yes, I fancy its faulty lubrication. She started by running rough and got hot very quickly.
If its nothing worse than that it shouldnt be a very big job, muttered Biggles, as he brought
out the tool kit. Great Sam! This sun is the dickens; mind how you handle that cowlingits
nearly red-hot.
None of them is likely to forget the next hour and a half. The sun, as it approached its zenith,
blazed down with relentless fury, making all the metal parts of the machine so hot that the handling
of them was a matter of extreme discomfort. Flies and stinging insects added to their misery.
However, in the end they found the cause of the troublea piece of cotton waste in an oil lead
and thereafter it was only a question of time before the job was done.
With a grunt of satisfaction Ginger screwed up the last engine-cowling bolt, and then turned to
where the others were collecting the tools and replacing them in the kit. As he did so, a movement
some distance beyond caught his eye, and he looked up.
Say, Chief, look whats coming, he cried.
Both Biggles and Algy sprang up and followed the direction of his eyes with their own.
Approaching them at a fast trot, in single file, and not more than two hundred yards away, was a
line of savage warriors. And they were the real thing. Nude except for a short skirt of leopard skin
and a garter-like fringe of white hair bound below their knees, they fitted perfectly into the
inhospitable landscape. All were armed with short-handled broad-bladed assagais, with a tuft of
hair at the end, and carried oval-shaped shields of white ox-hide threaded with black strips of the
same material. Above the head of the leader rose a plume of glorious ostrich feathers, held in
place by an encircling band.
I dont like the look of those gentry, stated Biggles, as he gazed at them steadily.
Cant we start up and get away before they reach us? suggested Algy.
Biggles shook his head. Impossible, he said. It would be fatal to try to get off without first
clearing a runway, even if we knew that the engine was giving full revs, which we dont, and
shant until we run her up. Somehow I cant think those fellows mean any harm, though; they must
have seen plenty of white men, and most African natives have learned by this time that it pays to
leave them alone. Ginger, take the rifle into the cabin and keep us covered without letting them see
it. Above all, dont look scared, anybody, but be ready for anything.
If you dont think they mean any harm, why do you say you dont like the look of them? asked
Ginger from inside the cabin.
Because I didnt notice at first the direction they are coming from, replied Biggles shortly.
Its the direction of Karuli, and the emergency landing-ground where you collared this machine,
isnt it?
It is, answered Ginger briefly.
Well, here they are, continued Biggles. Leave the talking to me, although as none of us knows
their lingo there isnt likely to be much.
The black warriors slowed down to a walk a short distance away, and then advanced in a rough
half circle.
Biggles raised his hand. Stop there, he called loudly.
Rather to his surprise the order was obeyed. What do you want? he asked curtly.
The leader raised his assagai to his forehead in a curious sort of salute. What you make with
my masters aeroplane? he asked harshly, in an even, high-pitched voice.
Biggles expressed no surprise at this unexpected question. Who is your master? he asked.
My master white man.
Yes, Id guessed that, but what is his name?
My master say go Insula and find aeroplane.
A faint smile flitted across Biggless face as he realized that the savage was no fool. Where is
your master ? he asked.
The native pointed with his assagai to the east. How far away?
Two daythree day march.
Biggles suspected that the fellow was lying, but he had no means of proving it. You go and tell
your master that were taking his aeroplane to Insula, where he can have it just as soon as he brings
my aeroplane back, he answered in a firm voice.
If you no give aeroplane, then we take it, declared the other impudently.
Biggless eyes glinted and his lips came together in a tight line. You insolent rascal; you talk to
me like that and Ill thrash the skin off your back. Be off, and sharps the word.
The savage did not move a muscle.
Did you hear me? cried Biggles, in a voice that cut through the air like the crack of a whip.
The savage stood his ground. He did not answer, but some of the others began to mutter amongst
themselves.
Give me that rifle, Ginger, ordered Biggles quickly.
Ginger leapt out and put the weapon into Biggless hands.
Now! snapped Biggles. Perhaps youve heard it said that Englishmen always keep their
word. Think hard on that, because in one minute by my watch Im going to shoot at any one I see
within spear-throw.


Some of the savages began to back away instantly, while the leader, clearly torn by indecision,
looked at them and the white men in turn. Finally, finding himself alone, he turned and followed the
others in the slow, insolent, provocative manner sometimes employed by small children when
made to do something against their will.
Biggless eyes narrowed. You cheeky swine, he snarled, and throwing up the rifle, sent a shot
whistling in the direction of the cause of his ire.
The natives pose of indifference disappeared in a flash. Bending low and zigzagging like a
snipe, he ran for his life until he disappeared from view behind a slight rise in the ground a quarter
of a mile away.
Start up, Ginger, snapped Biggles. Algy, come and help me choose the best path to get off.
Theres no wind, so the direction doesnt matter. He started off at a run, but pulled up again with
a jerk. Hark! he cried.
From afar off came the low, powerful hum of aero engines.
Algy threw up his arm, and with finger outstretched pointed to a tiny speck in the east. There he
is, he cried. Its the Dragon, and its coming this way.
Come on, yelled Biggles. If he catches us on the ground were done.
The next few minutes can only be described as hectic. With perspiration streaming down their
faces, Biggles and Algy ran along the least obstructed fairway, flinging aside large stones,
trampling down small ant-hills, and examining the ground for holes which might spell disaster if
the fast-moving wheels of the Puss struck them during the take-off. Then, satisfied that they had a
fairly clear run, they raced back to where the machine was ticking over.
Run her up, shouted Biggles to Ginger, and running round to the rear of the fuselage, he threw
himself across it to keep the tail down while Ginger opened the throttle. The blast of the slipstream
as it struck him was as refreshing as a cold shower-bath, and while it lasted he revelled in it.
Then, as the roar subsided suddenly, he dashed up to the cockpit. How does she go? he asked.
Shes O.K., answered Ginger crisply.
Then let me have her. In you get, Algy; make it snappy, ordered Biggles, as the roar of the
twin-engined machine suddenly increased in volume. Glancing up, he saw the blunt nose tilted
down towards them. As he jumped in and slammed the cabin door behind him, something struck the
engine-cowling with a metallic zip. It was a spear; the point had pierced the thin sheet-metal
cowling, and remained impaled, the haft sticking out at right-angles. There was no time to remove
it, for glancing through the window he saw the savages closing in on the machine in a wild charge.
Hold tight, he yelled, and shoved the throttle open.
The actual take-off, for the few seconds while it lasted, was a hair-raising affair. Twice the
machine was thrown into the air by tufts of grass before it had reached flying speed, and each time,
as the wheels returned to earth with a terrifying rumble, they all thought that the machine must
break into halves. How it stood up to the strain Biggles could not imagine, but it did, and he sank
back with a pathetic smile, shaking his head sadly as the machine finally lifted.
A little more of this sort of thing and I shall be ripe for a madhouse, he yelled, as he held the
nose down for a moment to get a reserve of speed, and then zoomed high into the air, looking to
right and left for the Dragon.
For a moment he could not see it, but as he turned slowly it swung suddenly into his field of
view. To his surprise it was two or three miles away, flying in a northerly direction, steadily, as if
the pilot intended maintaining his course.
Whats his idea? shouted Algy, who had also seen it.
Goodness knows, replied Biggles. I thought he intended going for us.
So did I.
Maybe he was, but changed his mind when he saw us take off.
Are you going to follow him?
Whats the use? According to Ginger we havent more than an hours petrol. Ill bet hes got a
full load. If we followed him for more than half an hour we should find ourselves down in the
jungle with empty tanks, so that would be a crazy thing to do. Wed better get to Insula and fill up;
then well do a spot of quick thinking.
Im getting sick of the sight of Insula, muttered Ginger.
So am I, Biggles told him shortly, but its the only port weve got in this perishing
wilderness.
What about that landing-ground at the repair depot where I pinched the Moth?
Biggles started. Then he nodded towards the ground where the savages, clustered together,
were staring upwards. They came from that direction, and I fancy theyll go back that way,
otherwise Id consider it, he said. In any case, though, to be on the safe side we ought to go to
Insula first and fill up our tanks, in case anything has happened to the fuel you saw at the repair
depot. We should look fools to arrive there and find that the stuff had all been taken away. Keep
your eye on those niggers and see which way they go when they move off. Im going to Insula.
CHAPTER IX
BIGGLES SUMS UP
WHAT happened to those niggers at the finish? asked Biggles as the machine ran to a
standstill on Insula aerodrome.
The last I saw of them they were walking away in single file, just as they arrived, replied
Algy.
Which way did they go ?
Eastback to where they came from, presumably.
We mustnt forget theyre about if ever we have to land in that district, declared Biggles. Ive
no desire to finish this crazy business with one of these skewers in my ribs, he added, pulling out
the assagai that had stuck in the engine-cowling.
Well, now were here, whats going to be done about it? asked Ginger.
Ive been thinking about that on the way, answered Biggles thoughtfully. Its a bit of a
problem. Theres one thing we must do, though.
Whats that?
Collect everything thats likely to be useful to us and hide itmake a cache somewhere. What
I have particularly in mind is the petrol and oil.
Why is it necessary to move it?
Because I think its an absolute certainty that sooner or later some sort of attack will be made
on this place. Leroux and his crowd are aware that we have got the Puss, and they must know
perfectly well that this is our only depot for supplies. Theyll realize, unless they are bigger fools
than I take them for, that the quickest and surest way to put us out of action would be to remove or
destroy this supply of fuel here. That would put the tin hat on things as far as were concerned,
wouldnt it? Immobile, as we should then be, we should be helpless. In fact, Im not altogether
sure that we should even be able to get back to civilization; Malakal and Juba are our nearest
points, and they are both a long way away. It may sound pessimistic, but from what Ive heard
about Africa I doubt very much if we could carry enough food and water to last us the journey if
we had to walk, and it would be fatal to start without enough because, barring a lucky shot which
might produce fresh meat for us, there is no food to be had. To set out in the hope of living on our
rifle would be folly, but in an emergency we might have to do that. Thats why I say I should feel
happier if we had a secret dump somewhere. Moreover, by removing the fuel it is more than likely
that we should make things awkward for Leroux. In the past he has had to rely on a supply of fuel
here, or it wouldnt be here; so if he lands and finds it gone he might be in a mess.
Yes, I see that, put in Algy. It will be a bit of a sweat, though, wont itmoving it, I mean?
I dont think so; there isnt as much as all that, and we neednt take it far away.
I feel inclined to raze the place to the ground, continued Biggles, as they walked towards the
bungalow. Leave it like the Bosche left some of the French villages when they retired in 1918
you remember? That would make Leroux and Co. scratch their heads, Ill warrant. Its always a
good plan to get your enemies guessing; its far more disconcerting than knowing the truth, even
when the truth is bad news. We played that game for all it was worth during the War, particularly
over the submarine question. Bosche submarines used to put out and just disappear into the blue;
never came back. Did we shout to the world that wed caught them in a trap and sent them to the
bottom? Not likely. We did the Brer Rabbit trick; lay low and kept on saying nothing. Do you
wonder that the Bosche submarine crews got all jumpy? I dont. No doubt they could have heard
without turning a hair that their pals had gone to Davy Jones, but the dreadful uncertainty as to their
fate got ern guessing, and the guessing got em groggy. When Leroux and Co. turn up here to find
out what has happened to Sarda, as they are bound to do before very long, and find the place
deserted, stores gone and all the rest of it, theyll get all hot and bothered, particularly when they
work it out that we must still be somewhere in the offing.
But if you think theyre likely to turn up here why not wait for them, and when they arrive,
shoot them up? suggested Algy belligerently.
For two very good reasons, replied Biggles promptly. The first is that we dont know how
long we should have to wait. It might be days, and while we were waiting our nerves would get on
edge, particularly as we should have to mount a very strict guard day and night to prevent
ourselves from being taken by surprise. I cant think that theyd be such fools as to just stroll on the
aerodrome, or land on it, supposingas they must that we are here. We might find ourselves
besieged by a mob of savages; we know there are at least a score in their pay, and if they have a
score they might well have a whole tribe. And the second reason is that, even if we caught them at
a disadvantage, we couldnt just open fire and shoot them down or we might find ourselves in
court on a charge of murder.
But surely theyve given us cause enough
Of course they have. We know that, but how could we prove it?
What about the snake in the cockpit? And the way they doped us, and stole our machine, and

Told in a court of law that would all sound like a wonderful fairy tale, declared Biggles,
shaking his head. No, when we step up to a judge with our story weve got to be able to trot out
proof. Nothing counts for anything at law without that. And what about young Marton? Have you
forgotten him? As his father is paying for all this, and it looks like costing him a tidy penny,
Harrys rescue must be our first consideration. The bringing of his abductors to justice is a
secondary affair, although, naturally, we shall do that if we can. Open a couple of tins of bully and
some biscuits, Ginger; we might as well eat while weve got the chance.
What beats me is what the whole thing is about, remarked Algy presently, digging into a tin of
bully with his penknife.
Biggles shrugged his shoulders. Ive thought quite a bit about that, he said. A lot of things
have happened since we turned up here, but when you come to examine them youll find that they
havent provided much information beyond the fact that Harry Marton is alive and someone is
using his machine. This is the position in a nutshell, as I see it now. Marton landed here on his way
to the Cape. For reasons not yet ascertained he was abducted, held prisoner, and his machine
confiscated. My own opinion is that it was because he discovered somethingaccidentally, no
doubt about this place, or Leroux, or the people who are running Insula. Very well! We arrive
on the scene and start nosing round. As soon as it became known in the enemy camp that we were
going to stay at Insula steps were taken to cause us to remove ourselves; failing that, to remove us.
Sarda tried to put us off in the first place by talking of fever and so on, but when he saw that we
intended staying he rang up his headquarters and told them what was happening; whereupon
without any loss of time things began to hum. Within a few hours an attempt was made to murder
us, which proves how desperately anxious these people must be to get us out of the way. The
question is, why? Ostensibly they are running a tobacco plantation. That that is merely a blind to
cloak their real activities is certain, for no one is likely to stop them growing tobacco. Just what
they are up tobut lets leave that for the moment. The point is, it is perfectly clear that transport
plays a vital part in their operations.
Why are you so sure about that? asked Algy, reaching for the biscuits.
Dash it all, man, look at the trouble theyve been at to establish aerodromes and fit them up.
They must have at least three.
How three ?
Insula is one, the place where Ginger found the Puss is another, and the one at their
headquarters. Obviously they must have got one there. Then theres the telephone connecting them
up. All these things have meant a pretty heavy expenditure of cash, from which we can reasonably
infer that the business, whatever it is, is a highly profitable one. Theyre using air transport
remember, which again is by no means cheap. That suggests to me that either speed is very
important, or else
Well?
Or else it offers a way of concealing the cargo they are carrying. As we know as well as
anyone, an aeroplane can get about with less interference than any form of surface transport. You
can take it from me that the whole thing boils down to that cargo, and when we have found out
what that is we shall know everything. Harry Marton found out what it was, Ill bet. He found out
by accident, no doubt, but it put paid to his Cape record.
Which means that it is something of an illicit or contraband nature?
Definitely.
What could it be?
The only thing I can think of at the moment is slaves. Theres a big business still done in slaves
between this part of Africa, the Sudan, and Arabia. Our people have tried to stop it for years;
theyve curtailed the slavers activities but they havent stopped the traffic, not by a long way.
Human freight is heavy stuff. What is a slave worthhave you any idea?
About a hundred pounds, I believe.
By the time theyve paid their running expenses, Stampoulos and Leroux are not going to get
very fat out of that, carrying only two at a time in a Puss.
True enough. But as I said just now, what these people are doing is of secondary importance to
us. Weve come to get Harry Marton. Weve managed to get his machine, which is as much as old
Mr. Marton hoped for; but in view of what we know we shall have to count the trip a failure if we
dont bring the boy back in it.
And we cant very well do that until we know where he is, observed Ginger tritely.
Biggles glanced up. Theres an awful lot of truth in that, Ginger, my lad, he agreed. The first
thing we must do, then, is to find out where he is.
And having done that, what are we going to do? inquired Algy dubiously. Are we in a
position to launch an attack on the enemy stronghold for the purpose of rescuing him?
Frankly, I dont think we are, admitted Biggles. Quite apart from the white men, who are
doubtless armed with rifles, there are those toughs we saw this morning to be considered. Im not
exactly aching to get tangled up with a bunch of assagais, and thats a fact.
Sez you, agreed Algy warmly. Whats the programme, then?
Weve got to locate this place Karuli before we do anything else.
What are you going to dofly round and look for it?
Im not going to walk, you can bet your life on that.
When are you thinking of making a start?
Wed better leave it until tomorrow. Its after two oclock now, and weve got to shift this
petrol yet.
Then lets get to it, suggested Ginger. Im nearly asleep on my feet, and the sooner the jobs
done the sooner we can all hit the hay. This business is getting a lot too much like hard labour for
my liking.
Ill bring a gang of navvies next time to do the rough stuff, Biggles promised, smiling, as he
put on his hat and walked to the door. He reached it, and was about to step outside, when a
movement in the distance caught his eye, and instead of going out he took a quick pace backward.
Algy snatched up the rifle and peered over his shoulder. Antelopes, by jingo, he muttered.
Ginger joined the others, and looking out, saw a herd of long-horned animals grazing peacefully
about a mile away near the eastern boundary of the landing-ground. What about knocking one of
them over and having steak for supper?
I think its a rattling good idea if it can be done, agreed Biggles. Its worth trying, anyway.
But youd better not go wandering off, Ginger; youre tired as it is. Algy, you take the rifle and try
your hand at stalking while Ginger and I shift the petrol. If you get one theres no need to drag the
whole beast back; cut off a haunch: that will be enough. The rest would go bad before we could eat
it.
Good enough, agreed Algy enthusiastically, and with the rifle in his hand he crept out into the
coppice.
Come on, Ginger, lets go and find a good place to dump this petrol, ordered Biggles. We
shall have to do it quietly or we shall alarm the game.
CHAPTER X
ALGYS ANTELOPE HUNT
ALLY soon covered half the distance that separated him from his quarry, for he had plenty of
cover, but thereafter the going became more difficult. He knew that it was hopeless to attempt to
get within range of the wary beasts by going across the open aerodrome, and the country on either
side was nearly as bare. After he had left the coppice on the edge of which the aerodrome
buildings were situated, he had been able to advance by keeping a large clump of bushes between
himself and the herd, but he had now reached the end of the bushes, and from there on the ground,
in a direct line with the animals, offered no concealment of any sort. He estimated his distance
from them to be about eight hundred yards, although in the clear atmosphere it looked considerably
less, and he could see them distinctly.
Thinking that it might be possible to achieve success with a long shot, he slipped his rear sight
up to the eight hundred mark and raised the rifle; but he lowered it again immediately, for the heat-
soaked air rippled and quivered like disturbed water, making it quite impossible to take steady
aim.
I shall have to get a lot nearer than this, he mused, and casting about for another way of
approach, he saw something that had previously escaped his notice. It was a shallow gully,
presumably a dried-up watercourse judging by the dry reeds that lined its banks; it meandered
across the landscape, passing within two hundred yards of the antelopes at its nearest point. He
remembered seeing it from the air.
Lying flat in the grass, for in order to reach it he had to pass for some distance in full view of
the animals, he wormed his way towards the gully, and managed to reach it without alarming the
game. He waited for a minute or two to recover his composure, for in the heat of the sun the
method of progress he had been compelled to employ was exhausting, and then set off down the
gully, picking his way with great care, knowing well that the slightest noise would be fatal to his
object.
He was some time gaining his vantage point, for here and there the gully was very shallow, and
in such places he had to crawl; but in the end he reached it and wormed his way into the reeds that
lined the bank in order to reach the brink and thus command a view of the antelopes.
Slowly and with infinite pains he drew himself level with the top and peeped over. There was
not an animal in sight. Dumbfounded, for he was convinced that the antelopes could not have seen
him, he could only lie and stare. But his quarry might have dissolved into thin air for all the sign
there was of them. Then, in the far distance, he saw a tiny cloud of dust slowly settling, and it told
him which way the beasts had gone.
Well, dash my wig! he muttered, in a tone of mixed disappointment and astonishment. Thats
good-bye to our supper. Slowly he slid back down through the reeds, and with all need for
concealment gone, was about to rise to his feet when he saw something that made him gasp, and
sent him squirming into the thickest part of the rushes, where he lay motionless.
Coming up the gully was a line of armed savages, the same, judging by their attire, as they had
seen that morning when they had been at work on the Puss Moth. But now, at their head, in an open
shirt, shorts, with a solar topee on his head and a rifle crooked in his left arm, marched a white
man. No longer was there any mystery about the antelopes disappearance, and Algy saw at once
that to attempt to move would be folly, for to do so without being seen was out of the question; so
he could only lie still and hope for the best, although, lying in the thick reeds as he was, he felt it
was unlikely that he would be discovered. Nor would he have been except for an extraordinary
unlucky chance that completely upset his calculations, and in a few seconds altered every possible
aspect of the situation.
The warriors, with the white man striding along in front, held steadily and silently on their way
towards the aerodrome buildings which, Algy had no doubt, was their objective, and they were
only a few yards away from him when it happened. Without warning, from out of the dry reeds on
the opposite bank came a leopard and two cubs, all yawning and stretching like domestic cats that
have been asleep on the hearth. Algy nearly froze with horror when he realized that they must have
been there all the time, and that during his stalk down the gully he must have passed within a dozen
yards of them. However, there was no time to dwell on his narrow escape, for the leopard, looking
up, saw the party just below. Its sleepiness disappeared in a flash. With a vicious snarl it crouched
low, the very embodiment of feline fury. Another second and it would have charged, but at that
moment the white man fired. That the bullet had gone home Algy knew, for he distinctly heard the
soft phut of the lead striking flesh, and the creatures behaviour proved it. With a frightful roar it
leapt high into the air, tearing at its side with its teeth; then, as it struck the earth again, it twisted,
and with a single bound sprang straight into the reeds where Algy lay hidden.
His actions during the next two seconds were prompted far more by sheer instinct of self-
preservation than lucid thought. The leopard landed almost on top of him. It saw him at once and
turned like lightning, teeth flashing and claws bared, a picture that was to remain clear in his mind
for a long time to come. With a convulsive movement he jerked up the rifle, shoved the muzzle
almost into the beasts mouth and pulled the trigger. Then, not waiting to see the result, still
clutching the rifle, he flung himself over the bank and ran like a hare towards the bungalow.
As he ran two thoughts flashed into his whirling brain. The first was that Biggles would take no
notice of the shot, thinking that he had fired at the antelopes, and the second was that the man he
had left standing in the gully might shoot at him, for the fact that he was with the natives more than
suggested that he was the master to whom the leader had referred that morning during the
altercation near the Puss. With this new fear in his mind he crouched low and swerved ; and it was
a good thing that he did so, for a moment later a bullet tore up the ground close to his feet and
zipped away into the air. He swerved again, expecting another shot to be fired, but it did not come,
and in a detached way he wondered why. He noticed that the unknown mans rifle was of a heavier
calibre than his own, and the report much deeper. Would Biggles hear it? Yes! Algy saw him run
out of the trees with Ginger, stand staring for a moment, and then make a dash towards the hangar
where the Puss Moth was housed.
Still no shot came from behind, so he risked a glance over his shoulder, and the sight that met
his gaze explained why. Strung out along his path of flight, in a direct line between him and the
white man and therefore obstructing his view, were the savages, running; but any relief he
experienced from the fact that he was no longer under fire was more than counterbalanced by the
proximity of the nearest savage, who, evidently a faster runner than his companions, was well out
in front of them and only a short distance behind Algy. What was worse, his speed was terrific and
he was rapidly closing the distance.
Algy saw at once that he could not hope to reach the bungalow before he was caught, and his
back twitched at the thought of the assagai which might pierce it at any moment. There was only
one thing to be done and he did it, for the nearer the fellow with the spear got to him the more
desperate was his danger.
Still running, he jerked the empty shell out of the breach of his rifle and reloaded. Then he
whipped round, dropped on to his knee and took aim. He saw the brawny arm go up, the spear
flashing in the sunlight, and he knew that he could not afford to missnot that he was likely to at
such close range. As he glanced along the sights his war-training came to his aid, and his manner
changed. Coolly and deliberately he drew a bead on the shining black chest of his would-be
slayer, and squeezed the trigger. At the report the savage sprawled headlong, the spear plunging
into the ground, where it remained with the haft pointing towards its owner.
Algy looked at the others, now perilously close; but a rapidly increasing roar made him swing
round. The Puss, with the cabin door flapping open, was taxiing tail-up towards him. He needed no
invitation to join the others inside. He fired two quick shots at the savages, causing one to fall and
the others to stop, and then raced to meet the machine. A bullet smacked through it somewhere as
he literally tumbled aboard, and then lay, with his head on Gingers knees, panting for breath. For
a few seconds the wheels bumped over the rough ground; then the floor seemed to press upwards
into him and he knew they were off.
Thank goodness for that, he muttered fervently.
Wheres that antelope steak? growled Ginger.
Algy glared. Ill knock your block off if you talk to me about antelopes, he snarled. Ill let
you go next time. Where are we making for?
Goodness knowsI dont, replied Ginger frankly. We hadnt thought as far ahead as that
when we saw you making a bee-line for home.
Then I hope its to England, declared Algy. These wide open spaces may be he-mans
country, but theyre not minenot by a long shot.
CHAPTER XI
CRASHED BY A RHINO
As soon as he had recovered his breath Algy tapped Biggles on the shoulder. Where are you
making for? he asked.
Karuli, answered Biggles without hesitation.
Are you crazy?
Possibly.
Havent we had enough trouble already without shoving our heads into the lions mouth?
We arent going to shove our heads into anything of the sort.
Sounds like it to me.
Maybe, but I believe that at the moment the lionas you call himis on Insula aerodrome.
You mean, you think that tall fellow with the sallow face and black moustache who fired at me
is Stampoulos?
Either him or his head man. He looks Greek enough, anyway. While he and his dusky cutthroats
are at Insula seems to me to be the right moment to go to Karuli.
To try to rescue Marton?
You dont suppose Im going there for my health, or for the sake of somewhere to go, do you?
What happened to your antelope hunt? It seemed to go wrong somewhere.
It certainly did, agreed Algy emphatically. First I bumped into Stampoulos and his crowd of
stiffs, and while I was wondering which way to go a leopard bumped into me. Between the lot of
us it was quite a merry party while it lasted.
What happened?
I let drive at the leopard and Stampoulos let drive at me.
You scored and Stampoulos missed, eh?
Thats about it.
And then you decided it was about time to go home.
I did, and without stopping to pick flowers on the way. That bunch of niggers with flattened-out
bill-hooks settled all doubt in my mind about that. What happened to them after I got aboard, did
you see?
The last I saw of them Stampoulos had joined them and they were all marching towards the
bungalow, carrying two of their number, as they say in story books.
I expect theyll look for Sarda.
In which case I hope theyll find himand plant him. I wasnt looking forward to the job. But
the point is, theyre a tidy step from home, and as far as I can see theyve got to walk, whereas
were getting a ride. With luck we ought to be at Karuli first.
Youre not so optimistic as to expect to find the place deserted?
No, but with the big boy absent, the people in chargewhoever they may bemay not know
how to act. If we find the place at all I shall be satisfied.
By the way, did you hide the petrol at Insula?
We hid pretty nearly everything portable; wed just finished and loaded the kit-bags in the
machine when your gun-shot announced that the hunt was over; although from what you tell us it
was only just beginning.
We shall have to get a move on if were going to find this place before dark, observed Algy,
glancing through the window at the sun, which was sinking fast towards the horizon. Dont you
think it would be a better plan to land at this repair depot place Ginger talks about, to re-fuel, and
hide the stuff in the same way as you did at Insula? That would give us two bases where we could
get petrol in an emergency, and at the same time put another one of Lerouxs landing-grounds out of
action. If we go on nobbling his fuel I shouldnt be surprised if he finds himself walking presently,
instead of swanking about in our Dragon.
A furrow creased Biggless forehead as he considered the proposition. Im inclined to think
youre right, he said at last. Quite apart from the points youve raised, were all tired and its
getting a bit close to sundown for operations. We dont want to get benighted on the open veldt.
No, by James, that we dont, agreed Ginger warmly. Ive already had one go at it and that
was one too many. If Ive got to look at lions I prefer to see them through nice thick cast-iron bars;
or better still, behind a sheet of plate-glass in a museum.
Dont talk so much, interrupted Biggles. Just keep your eyes open for this repair
establishment; remember, I havent seen it yet.
You cant make any mistake, declared Ginger. Its on the south side of a large wood, or
forest; I dont know how far it extends because I didnt stop to look when I was there, but its the
first wood you come to.
Then that must be itstraight ahead.
Ginger peered forward through the windscreen. Thats the one, he exclaimed. It will
probably be difficult to see the hut from the air because its just on the edge of the trees, but the
landing-ground is on the south side.
Biggles throttled back and began a long glide towards the objective, and on reaching it circled
twice, both to make sure nobody was about and to pick out the best runway. Then, satisfied that all
was well, he landed and taxied slowly towards the hut, which he could now see on the edge of the
forest. A trio of ant-hills prevented him from going right up to it, so he switched off, and picking up
the rifle, jumped out, watching the door suspiciously. The others followed him.
I dont think any one can be at home, or theyd have come out when they heard us coming, he
said confidently. Lets go and have a look at the place, not forgetting to keep our ears open. We
mustnt forget that Leroux is floating about somewhere with the Dragon, and he might decide to
drop in here. I hope he does. I dont like this Puss after the Dragon; feels a bit cramped for elbow
room. What the
He broke off and spun round as a terrifying noise rose on the still air; it sounded like a cavalry
charge and a pig being slaughtered at the same time.
There was no need to look far for the cause of it. Bearing down on them from the fringe of the
forest was a rhinoceros. With its great horned snout held low, and its ridiculous little tail
switching round in circles, it thundered towards them, squealing in fury, an avalanche of
condensed wrath that would have been funny to watch from a safe place.
The three airmen scattered like small boys caught scrounging in an orchard. Algy made for the
nearest tree; Biggles streaked for the nearest point of the forest; while Ginger, yelling to the others
to follow him, made for the hut. He reached it, only to discover to his unspeakable horror that the
door was locked. In an agony of fright he looked back, and to his relief saw that the great beast
was not concerned with them. It had continued its charge straight on past the place where they had
been and was bearing down on the aeroplane with the relentlessness of a runaway train. He heard
Algy, secure in his tree, shout, and then two rifle shots in quick succession; but neither the shots
nor the shout had the slightest effect on the berserk monster. With a fearful crash it struck the Puss
Moth full amidships, and the machine crumpled up like a match-box that has been trodden on. The
noise of the impact seemed to drive the brute to even greater fury, for it snorted, bucked, kicked,
and stamped on the wreckage in a rage that was as insensate as it was destructive. Finally, as if
satisfied that the life of the strange bird had been crushed out of it, it gave a final snort and trotted
off, shaking its head in a vain endeavour to dislodge an elevator that was firmly impaled on its
horn.
As it disappeared in the distance Algy dropped down from his tree, Biggles emerged from the
forest, and Ginger from the side of the hut from which he had watched the final act of the tragedy.
They met near the machine and for some seconds gazed at the tangled wreck in silence.


Who was it suggested landing here? inquired Biggles at last, coldly.
I did, confessed Algy hesitatingly.
Then perhaps you wouldnt mind starting to stick the bits of this aeroplane together again,
Biggles told him.
Algys reply was a roar of laughter, in which presently the others joined. It was, of course, pure
reaction, but it relieved the strain.
Its all very well for you chaps to laugh, observed Biggles at last, wiping his eyes, but it isnt
going to be so funny walking home; you take it from me.
But did you ever see an aeroplane in such a mess in your life? protested Algy.
Never, admitted Biggles. And as long as I live I shall remember the picture of that ugly brute
walking off with half our tail on its nose. Well, I hope it carries it about with it for the rest of its
life; by that time it should be pretty sick of the sight and smell of aeroplane fabric.
Im not going after it to take it off, declared Algy.
And to think I once paid to go to Whipsnade, murmured Ginger sadly.
Whereupon they all laughed again.
Well, we havent got much else left to lose, there is that about it, observed Biggles ruefully.
At the rate were going, we shall be lucky if we finish this affair with a pair of pants apiece.
He stooped down, dragged the crumpled kitbags out of the wreckage, and threw them clear. His
own came last, and as he moved some mangled three-ply that was holding it, in order to release it,
he stiffened suddenly while a puzzled look came into his eyes.
What is it ? asked Algy who was watching him.
Biggles pulled the kit-bag clear and tossed it out on to the grass. Then he bent down, picked up
a piece of the three-ply and put it to his nose, all the while frowning as if he strove to catch an
elusive memory.
I dont know, he said slowly. Queer smell... reminds me of something... something Ive...
smelt before. Cant think what the dickens it is, though. Still wearing an extraordinary expression,
he allowed the three-ply to fall from his fingers. Then he shook his head as if dismissing the matter
and turned to where the others were standing. Did you say there was some grub in that hut, Ginger
? he inquired.
Yes. There s some bully, hard biscuits, and condensed milk, replied Ginger.
Then lets go and eat in case an elephant knocks the hut down while our backs are turned, said
Biggles bitterly. Combating crooks isnt bad fun, but when all the beasts of the ark join in, the
game ceases to be amusing.
We cant say we didnt know they were here, murmured Algy.
That may be, but I did at least expect them to mind their own business considering that weve
never interfered with them. Come on, lets get up to the hut.
They picked up their kit-bags and walked up to the wooden building.
Its locked! You cant get in, cried Ginger, suddenly remembering.
Cant I! You watch me, retorted Biggles grimly.
He tried the handle, found that what Ginger had said was correct, backed a yard or two away
and then charged. There was a splintering crash as the flimsy lock tore through the woodwork and
the door flew open.
Step in and make yourselves at home, he said smiling. But the smile faded from his face as,
followed by the others, he entered the primitive building. I thought you said there was a stock of
petrol here, Ginger, he exclaimed sharply.
There was, muttered Ginger weakly.
Then perhaps you wouldnt mind pointing it out to me, invited Biggles politely.
Itsit s gone, stammered Ginger, staring at the place where the cans had been piled.
His eyes switched to the shelf where the food had been. So has the food, he cried.
So has everything, by the look of it, said Biggles quietly, looking round the bare walls from
which everything of a portable nature had been moved.
Im afraid weve arrived on the scene a bit too late, he went on; good thing we werent
relying on that petrol for refuelling, isnt it? It just shows that it doesnt do to count on anything in
this business.
Somebody must have been here, declared Ginger.
Biggles eyed him thoughtfully. Wonderful! he said. How did you work that out?
Ginger smiled, for he was accustomed to Biggless mild sarcasm in moments of anxiety. Thats
how the door came to be locked, too, I expect, he observed. Whoever came here locked the door
behind him when he went. It wasnt locked this morning.
Biggless eyes were roving round the walls. Telephone has gone, too, remarked Algy, reading
his thoughts.
Yes, but it isnt far away, I fancy, answered Biggles. It cost too much to put up and its too
useful to them to be abandoned altogether. Well find the wire outside when we look for it.
What are we going to do about food? asked Algy. It looks as if some one will have to take
the rifle and try to shoot something.
No use taking a rifle, returned Biggles.
Why not?
Its empty, and weve no more ammunition. I fired the last two shots at the rhino. Ginger only
took one clip of six rounds when he loaded it in the hangar. You fired one at the leopard, one at the
nigger who was chasing you, two at the others, and Ive fired two just now. Mental arithmetic isnt
my strong point but I am able to work out that that makes six altogether; which means that the rifle
is now about as much use as a walking sticknot so much, in fact.
The others stared at him aghast.
Then we shall have to fall back on our automatics, stated Algy.
Do you feel like taking on the denizens of this oversized menagerie with an automatic?
No, I cant say Im keen.
Neither am I ; and neither, I imagine, is Ginger. It will be dark in about five minutes, anyway.
Then were here for the night?
Thats about the size of itunless anyone prefers the open air.
And in the morning? asked Ginger anxiously.
Well talk about that when it comes, replied Biggles, but it looks as if we shall have to push
on to Karuli.
Karuli? cried Algy and Ginger together.
It cant be anywhere else, as far as I can see, declared Biggles. Were too far away from
Insula, Malakal, or Juba to hope to reach them. To tell the truth, when I saw the Puss Moth go west
it struck me that good might come out of evil. Leroux is bound to fly over here shortly, and even if
he didnt intend landing in the ordinary way, he would not be able to resist coming down when he
saw the wreck on the ground. It looks like a first-class crash, and he would no doubt be overjoyed
at the prospect of finding us tangled up in it, having with great consideration removed ourselves
from the orbit of operations. Whereupon we could step out and ask him how about itwith our
guns. So a half-formed idea was in my mind that wed wait here for him, keeping an eye open, of
course, for Stampoulos and his bodkin-pushers, who might also decide to look in here on the way
home. But that was before I knew the food had gone from here. We cant stay now. It might be days
before Leroux turns up, in which case we should pass out from hunger while we were waiting. As
things are, weve got to move off at the crack of dawn, if only to get somewhere where the supply
of vitamins A, B, C, and D are available.
And you think the best place is Karuli?
Certainly, unless we wander about in the hope that some kind beast will give itself up and
invite us to dine off its anatomy.
Nothing more was said. Darkness fell, and completely worn out by the days events, they lay
down on the floor to get as much rest as the unyielding surface would permit.
CHAPTER XII
THE SNAKE IN THE GRASS
THE sun was peeping over the horizon when they awoke the following morning, stiff but
clearheaded, and refreshed by a sleep that not even the inhospitable conditions of the but could
deny them. Nothing was said about food or water, although they all felt the need of both as they
went outside into the clear atmosphere and surveyed the landscape. Except for a herd of small
buck far out beyond the landing-ground there was nothing living in sight, so without loss of time
they prepared to trek, with their backs to the rising sun.
How about the kit-bags? asked Algy eyeing them dubiously. Are we going to take them with
us?
Biggles shook his head. It will take us all our time to get ourselves where were going without
dragging extra weight about, he opined. Theres nothing in them that we really need at the
moment, so I think the best plan would be to hide them. We darent leave them on the ground or the
white ants will tear everything to pieces, and we dont want our log-books chewed up. I tell you
what: lets sling them in a tree out of sight in the forest; we can use some of the wires from the
Puss for the purpose.
Thats a good idea, agreed Algy.
Without any more ado they set about putting the plan into action. It occupied but a few minutes,
and after they had completed the job to their satisfaction they once more foregathered in front of the
but and prepared to move off. Before doing so, however, Biggles made the others wait while he
quartered to and fro like a hound on the western side of the but and some little distance away from
it. Presently his persistence was rewarded, and he gave a cry of triumph. Here it is! he shouted,
and the others joined him at a run.
Heres the telephone, he went on as they came up to him. There goes the wire, and the
receiver is in this box, I expect. He pointed to a small wooden box half covered with leaves that
rested at the foot of a tree. Yes, thats it, he added, lifting the lid. All theyve done is to clear it
out of the hut in case we found it. They realized that we knew about the hut, of course, because the
Puss Moth was taken from here. Incidentally, it must have given them food for thought wondering
how on earth we found the place; I imagine Leroux would be hard to convince that he was directly
responsible.
Are you going to use the phone? asked Algy.
And tell them that we are somewhere on the line? Not likely! You see what it is worth to us,
though. All we have to do is to follow the wire and it should take us right up to their front door.
By James! I never thought of that, declared Algy.
That was why I was so anxious to find it, Biggles told him as he set off along the track.
For a long way the wire followed the southern boundary of the forest, about twelve feet from
the ground, sometimes fastened to trees by insulators, and sometimes being carried across gaps by
bamboo poles. Then the timber grew more sparse and in the end gave out altogether, leaving them
facing a dreary expanse of sun-parched plain with clumps of the inevitable flat-topped trees dotted
about here and there, often forming supports for the telephone wire. Beyond, at a distance which
they were unable to estimate but which was certainly several miles, great outcrops of grey stone
appeared, increasing in size until they finally merged in an extensive range of mountains.
Biggles eyed the scene of desolation meditatively. Weve got to make those mountains today,
he said softly, as if he were thinking aloud. You see what were up against, he went on in a
normal voice, turning to the others. Lack of water is going to worry us more than the food
shortage, and I think it is extremely unlikely that we shall find water this side of those mountains;
the colour of the vegetation would probably reveal it if there were any, and I dont see a spot of
green anywhere. There should be water in the mountains, though, either a spring or a natural
reservoir of rain-water. Were going to need it, too, by the time we get there; thats why weve got
to get across this plain today. Anybody any suggestion to make?
There was no reply.
Come on, then, lets go, decided Biggles, and taking the lead, he set off at a steady pace, still
keeping his direction by the wire.
For hours they marched while the sun climbed high into the heavens and tortured them with
burning rays of white light that dried the perspiration on their skins as quickly as it formed. They
did not speak, for there was nothing of importance that called for comment; in any case, with their
mouths parched as they were, conversation would have been an effort. Game was fairly common,
particularly antelope, giraffe, zebra, buffalo, and the ungainly wildbeeste, which threw up their
heads and watched the passage of the three travellers with interest. Once they saw a rhinoceros,
standing under a tree attended by the curious birds that live on the ticks infesting its hide, and act,
so it is said, as sentinels. Fortunately, the beast was some distance away, and although the birds
rose into the air uttering warning cries, it merely contented itself with a series of short rushes in
different directions; whereupon, finding nothing on which to vent its bellicose spite, it returned to
the tree, and stood gazing blankly with its short-sighted eyes in the opposite direction.
From time to time Biggles looked speculatively at the mountains, now appreciably nearer but
still some distance away.
How far are they, do you think? asked Algy on one such occasion.
Five miles, but theyre probably farther, was Biggless cheerless reply.
Whereupon, without pursuing the subject, they tramped on. They were all getting in a bad way,
and although they must have been well aware of it, no one made any comment. Ginger in particular
was suffering severely, but not for the world would he have admitted it.
Any one got the time? he croaked, after another interminable silence.
Biggles glanced at his wrist. My watch has stopped, he answered. How about yours, Algy?
Smashed it this morning, replied Algy briefly. It must be about three oclock at a rough
guess, he added.
I should say its about one or half-past, observed Biggles, glancing at the sun. Just a minute.
He sat down and proceeded to take off his shoes and change the socks over from one foot to the
other, inviting the others to do the same. Its an old army dodge, he said, and like most army
dodges, well worth trying.
Presently they set off again, making for what looked like a break in the mountains, which they
could now see very clearly. They did not improve on closer acquaintance: the grey granite peaks
thrust high into the air, gaunt and stark, without a sign of life.
Suddenly Biggles stopped, staring hard at the ground some distance to the right. Then, turning at
right angles, This way, he said.
What about the telephone wire? asked Algy in surprise.
Cant bother about that now, replied Biggles shortly. Weve got to find water within the next
hour, and anyway, we can always come back to the wire. This is a game path, he went on,
pointing to a definite well-worn track which had been the reason for his sudden change of
direction.
The others saw that it was studded with innumerable hoof-marks which had evidently been
made when the ground was soft, but had since been baked to brick-like hardness by the sun.
You think it may lead to water ? asked Ginger, suddenly grasping the reason for Biggless
move.
I hope so, returned Biggles. Im no expert tracker, but I seem to remember reading that by
years of usage wild animals make definite paths to their drinking places, he explained. We can
only trust that this is one. Lets keep going.
They marched on, nor did they stop or speak again until they were within a stones throw of the
rocks, now dreadful in their appalling desolation. Ginger was clearly very near the end of his
endurance. He swayed as he walked; his eyes were glassy and there was a ring of dry dust round
his cracked and blackened lips. Algy was in little better case. He could no longer keep his mouth
closed and he was drawing his breath in short, painful gasps. Biggles alone seemed anything like
normal, but his face was drawn and his lips compressed in a tight, obstinate line.
Stick it, chaps, we cant be far way from water now, he said encouragingly. But his heart was
sick with anxiety, for he knew that in all their travels they had never been in such a desperate
plight. He felt in his pocket and took out his automatic as he continued along the track, looking
warily to right and left as he reached the first rocks, shimmering in the noonday sun. His eyes fell
on a half-devoured zebra and he redoubled his vigilance. With every nerve tense, he jumped
violently, as, with a snort and scurry, half a dozen long-horned buck leapt up just in front of him
and dashed off. For a second or two they bunched as they tried to scramble through a narrow cleft
in the rocks. His hand jerked up. Bang! bang! bang! spat the automatic.
At the third shot one of the animals fell, but it was up instantly, dashing after the others
apparently unhurt. Biggles watched it go dispassionately. Then he turned to the spot from which
they had appeared, and a cracked cheer broke from his lips as his eyes fell on a small pool of
water. It was stagnant and it looked foul, particularly at the edges where the mud had been stirred
up by the buck, which had evidently been wallowing in it.
It was characteristic of him that instead of rushing forward and drinking he first looked back for
the others. They were both hurrying towards the spot, Ginger making heavy weather of it some
distance behind Algy. Biggles ran into the water beyond the edge of the disturbed area, and filling
his topee, went back to meet them. Algy, he could see, would be able to reach the pool, so he
passed him and went right on until he came to Ginger, who was beginning to stumble.
`Here you are, laddie, take a sip, he said. Take it gently... steady... steady... thatll do for the
present. Feel better?
Ginger looked up and smiled wanly. Thats pretty good stuff, he vowed.
You wouldnt think so in the ordinary way, grinned Biggles. Then he took a sip or two
himself, allowing the liquid to trickle over his lips with ineffable relish.
Can I have some more? asked Ginger.
Biggles passed him the hat. Go easy with it, he warned him. Youll knock yourself out if you
try taking too much at one go. Come on up to the pool.
They found Algy sitting by the edge of the water bathing his face; his hat stood beside him, and
from it he drank sparingly from time to time.
I suppose we shouldnt complain, observed Biggles presently when, their most urgent pangs
of thirst assuaged, they were lying by the pool. But this is pretty awful stuff. It ought to be boiled
to make it fit to drink, but not having a can it cant be done. He got up suddenly. Stand fast
everybody, he ordered. Or better still, collect some of this grass and start a fire. You might be
able to get some twigs from those bushes over there, but watch out you dont trip over a lion;
theres one not far away. I shant be long.
He was back in about ten minutes, grinning broadly, and carrying a large slab of red meat in his
hand. He nodded approval when he saw that a small fire had been started.
Where the deuce did you get that? asked Algy. What is it?
Sirloin of zebra, smiled Biggles, laying the meat on a flat rock and commencing to carve it
into strips.
But where?
Im afraid Ive purloined somebody elses supper, explained Biggles. I saw a dead zebra just
below as we came up, but until I went back to it I couldnt be sure how long it had been dead. It
must have been killed within the last few hours, which suggests to me that a tawny-coated
gentleman by the name of Felix Leo isnt far away. Hell probably return to his kill at sundown for
another snack, so wed better keep clear of it. We shall have to move off from here, too, before
nightfall, or we shall find ourselves holding up the drinking parade. If Mr. Leo wants to come and
have a drink, I dont feel inclined to stand in his way and argue about it.
Algy glanced at the sun, already sinking below the peaks of the mountains. Wed better see
about finding a shakedown, then, he suggested. It wont be long before its dark. Hadnt we better
take some water with us?
All we can do is bung up the ventilation holes in our topees and fill them, replied Biggles,
impaling a piece of meat on a stick and holding it to the blaze. We neednt go far away. I dont
fancy sleeping among these rocks, but we cant be choosers.
For a little while they busied themselves with their meal, toasting thin strips of the meat and
eating it half raw. It was tough and not very palatable, but their hunger was such that these
shortcomings did not worry them, and at the end, with their strength rapidly returning, they were
quite cheerful. They spent some time cooking what remained of the meat, and then, with Biggles
carrying the whole of the unpleasant-looking stock threaded on a piece of wood, and the others
each carrying a hatful of water, they set off to find a place where the night could be passed with
reasonable safety.
This was more difficult than it first appeared, for although there were plenty of caves and
shallow recesses in the rocks, they all looked as if they might already harbour inmates; however,
in the end they chosesomewhat hastily, for by this time it was almost darka ledge of rock
several feet wide which was completely overhung by a low cliff. The last remaining minutes of
daylight were spent collecting dry grass and anything that looked as if it would burn. They did not
light this, for even if only a small fire was kept going their entire stock of fuel would not last more
than half an hour, so they decided to preserve it against emergency, when it might serve as a
protection against wild beasts or as a means of illumination in case of any other trouble. The night
was then divided into three watches, Ginger taking the first, which is usually reckoned to be the
easiest. These dispositions made, they settled themselves down for the night.

For some time Ginger squatted on a rock and stared into the darkness with restless, anxious
eyes. A breathless silence had settled over the land, but it was not the comforting quiet of peace
and security ; rather was it an uneasy, living silence, a tense hush of expectancy, as if all the wild
creatures of the veld were crouching, watching, waiting for something to happen.
Presently a faint hum rose on the air. At first he wondered what it was; but when a tiny, burning
pain, as of a stinging-nettle, stung him on the nose, he knew, and he brushed his face irritably with
the back of his hand. Then came another, this time on the cheek, and he stirred uneasily although
without alarm.
Confound these wretched mosquitoes, he muttered angrily, as a dozen stings assailed his neck
simultaneously. Were going to have a bonny night if this goes on; it must be because were near
that water, he thought, as he remembered Biggles once saying something about mosquitoes
frequenting damp, marshy places, which they made their breeding-grounds.
But in spite of all he could do to prevent it, which was no more than pulling his shirt up round
his neck, the vicious attacks of the insects grew steadily more determined and intense, and he
glanced behind him, realizing that Biggles and Algy were likely to be severely stung in their sleep;
but their quiet, regular breathing reassured him, and he resumed his vigil in silent misery.
The moon, a great lemon-tinted ball of light, crept up slowly over the horizon and bathed the
landscape in a pale, eerie glow, insufficient, however, for him to make out more than the broad
outlines of his immediate surroundings and the vast expanse of plain that rolled awayto the end
of the world, it seemedfrom the foot of the hill on which they had made their camp.
Suddenly he stiffened and his mouth grew dry with horror as a dreadful uproar broke out
somewhere below him. It began with a ferocious, snarling roar that was instantly drowned in a
shrill scream of mortal terror. Then came a frenzied drumming of hoofs on hard earth, punctuated
with blood-curdling growls. Another scream, ending in a pathetic, choking sob; then a silence that
was quickly followed by a ghastly purring sound.
Ginger shivered, and edged a little nearer to the overhanging rock.
What the dickens is going on?
Biggless voice made him jump, but he was relieved to hear it. Phew! he gasped, moistening
his lips and swallowing hard. This is awful.
What is? Whats going on? Something woke me up. Biggles raised himself into a sitting
position.
Something is being killed, or has just been killed, down below. I think it was a lion killing a
zebra. I cant see anything, but the noise was shocking. Im fairly sweating with funk, and I dont
mind admitting it. Not only that, but I am being torn to pieces by mosquitoes, went on Ginger
miserably. It feels as if theyve had most of the skin off my face already.
Biggles rose to his feet. I know, he muttered. Im nearly bitten to death, too. I was conscious
of the things biting me even in my sleep. Whereabouts is this lion do you suppose?
I dont know exactly. The sounds came from somewhere out there in the darkness beyond the
water-hole. I think we ought to do something about it.
What do you suggest we dotell the lion to go home and not be a naughty boy? A lot of notice
hed take of us whatever we did while hes busy over his supper. We shall have to do something
about these mosquitoes, though, or we shall be in a pretty state tomorrow.
What the dickens can we do about them?
Light a fire, thats the only thing. The smoke may drive them away, or at least discourage them;
and as the flames may keep the lion at a distance too, we shall be killing two birds with one stone.
But we havent enough sticks to last half an hour.
Then we shall have to jolly well get some more. It isnt much use trying to sleep anyway in this
fly-bitten, lion-infested bedlam. Hark!
They remained silent for a few seconds. From the direction of the water-hole came a horrid
sound of purring and lapping, both at the same time, like the noise made by a contented domestic
cat over a bowl of milk, but magnified a hundred times.
That doesnt sound very pretty, does it? observed Biggles quietly.
Whats the brute doing, do you think?
Slobbering about in the blood of the wretched creature it has just killed, I fancy. Its some
distance away though; moreover, by the time friend Leo has had a good fill of fresh zebra hell be
more likely to think about forty winks than worrying us. At least, we can only hope so. Biggles
brought his hand down sharply on his cheek. Dash these pests, he snarled. Im going down to
those bushes for some more brushwood for the fire, he went on aggressively, taking out his jack-
knife and opening it.
Dont be a lunatic, Biggles, cried Ginger, seriously alarmed.
Lunatic or not, Im going. These little swine are driving me crazy. The bushes arent more than
a dozen yards away so I dont think theres any dangerno more than there is here that I can see. If
the lion has ideas about us theres nothing to stop him putting them into action at either place.
Thats true, I suppose, admitted Ginger reluctantly. But somehow it seems safer when were
all together. Wait a minute while I wake Algy and light the fire. If were going to light it we might
as well start it off now so that you can have the benefit of it.
So saying, he nudged Algy, who sprang up with a stifled cry of alarm.
Whats the matter? he asked breathlessly. Oh, I know; I guess its my turn for guard.
No, it isnt, Ginger told him, but all the mosquitoes in Africa are having a stinging
competition and theyre using us as a stadium. I fancy the winner is on the small of my back, just
out of reach. Our eyes will be completely closed up in the morning if we let them go on with it, so
were going to light the fire and try to smoke them out. Biggles has volunteered to go and get some
more brushwood.
As he spoke Ginger struck a match and held it to the fire. It blazed up brightly at once, and cast
a lurid glow over the dry earth, the rocks, and their travel-stained faces. In fact, although the fire
was only a small one, it glowed like a beacon after the darkness, which naturally had the effect of
making everything outside its flickering radius more difficult to see.
It may have been due, or at least partly due, to this that Biggles put his foot into itas the
saying isin the literal sense of the word. True, he was not looking at the ground. In spite of his
declared assurance, he was by no means certain that he would not encounter a lion, either the one
they had heard or another, so as he walked towards the bushes his eyes were raised to the
surrounding rocks and not on the ground immediately in front of him.
He must have put his foot right in the middle of the coiled python. He did not see it. He felt
something soft and yielding under his foot, and knowing that whatever it was it was alive, he
sprang back; but quick as he was he was too late. In a flash, almost before he had realized what
was happening, the snake, which always seems so slow and somnolent, had coiled itself about
him, pinning his left arm and the hand in which he carried his automatic to his side. Fortunately, his
right hand, in which he held the knife, was left free, and he at once made a number of wild slashes
at the head of the snake as it reared up before him, at the same time letting out a yell that must have
been heard a mile away.
Now he knew quite well what every one knows who has lived in countries where this
particular type of snake occursthat the python is not venomous; it cannot give its victim a
poisonous bite, but endeavours to kill it by crushing it in the same manner as a boa constrictor; but
this it is unable to do unless its tail is firmly anchored to something substantial, such as a tree or a
rock.
Even in his present extremity Biggles remembered that there were no trees near. For the rest, he
was conscious only of the creatures great weight and the swaying head with its ghastly, flickering
tongue a few inches from his face.
His wild yell brought Algy and Ginger to the scene with a rush, and they saw at a glance what
had happened. Both carried their automatics, but to use them was clearly out of the question, for it
was impossible to put a bullet through the python without a big risk of its also going through
Biggles. Admittedly, its head was clear of him, but to hit it as it swayed from side to side would
have tried the skill of an expert revolver shot, and neither of them was that.
Biggles, realizing by this time that in his cramped position he could not hope to give the
creature a mortal wound, and seeing the others run up, flung the knife clear. Go for the tail, he
shouted. The tailthe tailslash its tail.
Algy heard the steel tinkle against a rock, and darted to the spot where the knife fell, but to his
utter and complete consternation he could not find it.
A light, Ginger, he screamed hysterically. Get a light!
But Ginger had no light, for after starting the fire he had put the box of matches down on the
rock on which he had been sitting. However, he did not wait to explain this, but darted back to the
fire, and grabbing a handful of blazing twigs, managed to hold them in spite of the pain until he
reached the spot where Algy, now on his hands and knees, was still looking and feeling frantically
for the knife.
Fortunately the grass, being bone dry, flared up the instant the twigs fell into it, revealing the
knife lying in a hollow of the rock. Algy saw it first, and reached for it, but an instant before his
hand closed over it, the pythons massive tail, seeking a hold on the same rock, swung round and
sent him over backwards.
But Ginger had also seen the knife. Disregarding Algy, he snatched it up with a gasp of relief
and flung himself on the creatures tail just as it found the rock. Out of the corner of his eye, in the
yellow light of the fire, he saw Biggles fall heavily, still swathed in the pythons gigantic coils, so
he started hacking at the tail with a fury born of blind panic.
The rest was nightmare. The dry skin, pulsating under his left hand as he grasped it, made him
feel sick, but he stuck to his task desperately, vaguely conscious of shouting to Algy to help him.
The snake, thus attacked, released its tail-grip on the rock and began threshing about, dragging him
with it; but he hung on, still shouting for Algy to help him.
Algy, whose breath had been completely knocked out of him when the snake had thrown him
over backwards, rose unsteadily to his feet and threw himself across the black, sinuous body of the
creature between Biggles and Ginger. Gripping it with his knees, he pressed the muzzle of the
automatic into it and pulled the trigger.
The result was instantaneous. The python, with incredible speed, released its hold on Biggles
and turned on him; and taken thus unaware, he sprawled forward as its full weight descended on
his back.
At this juncture Ginger, who was still hacking at the tail, behaved with commendable presence
of mind. Holding the knife in his teeth, he tore up a double handful of dry grass, held it in the
flames for a second, and thrust the whole blazing mass into the snakes open mouth.
Almost before they were aware that the danger had passed, the python dropped to the ground
with a crash and glided swiftly away into the darkness, leaving them all staring at each other,
panting for breath and trembling violently from shock and exertion.
Are youhurtBiggles? gasped Algy.
Dont think so, replied Biggles weakly. A bit bruised, I thinknothing more. Gosh! What a
horror to meet on a dark nightugh! He shuddered at the recollection.
If ever I sleep again in this perishing country it wont be my fault, declared Ginger
emphatically, wiping his hands on a tuft of grass. Id no idea such frightful creatures still walked
the earth, or you wouldnt have got me here. No, sir. First lions, then mosquitoes, and now snakes
I think its about time we headed for home and let them have this place as likes it.
Lets head back to the fire for a start, suggested Biggles practically.
He led the way back to where a few twigs still burnt briskly and flopped down limply on the
rock on which Ginger had sat during his brief guard. The others saw that he was pale, and knew
that he had been more shaken than he had admitted.
Well? asked Ginger questioningly, looking at the others in turn.
Well, what? inquired Algy.
What are we going to do?
Stay where we are, put in Biggles shortly.
What about the mosquitoes?
What about them?
You said you were going to get some more firewood.
Quite right, so I did, confessed Biggles. But Ive changed my mind. Of course, theres nothing
to prevent you from going and getting some
Not me, interrupted Ginger decisively. Ive done all the exploring Im going to do for one
night.
Look here, its no use going on like this, said Biggles seriously. We shall have to try to get in
a few winks of sleep or we shall all feel like death in the morning. Lets keep double guards; that
wont be so nervy as doing it solo. Ginger and I will start. In an hour Ginger will lie down, and
you, Algy, will take his place. An hour later Ill lie down and Ginger will have to get up again; and
so on. Its heavy going, but it cant be helped; its better than all of us sitting up all the time,
anyway. We shall have to do the best we can with the fire; by keeping it a mere flicker we might
be able to make it last for some time, and it can always be made up if any visitors start prowling
round.
Sounds a good idea to me, observed Algy.
And me, agreed Ginger.
And so it was agreed, and for the second time they settled down to pass the night.
CHAPTER XIII
WHAT NEXT?
THE stars were still in the sky the following morning when Ginger was awakened by the
crackling of twigs to find Biggles and Algy busily warming up the remains of their unappetizing
meat supply, and the realization of their position brought him to his feet immediately. It was
bitterly cold, and he was glad to stretch his hands to the warmth of the fire.
Did you see anything during your watch? he asked Biggles, more for the sake of saying
something than for anything else, after congratulations had been exchanged on their survival of a
perilous night.
I didnt see much, but I heard a lot, grinned Biggles.
Same here, nodded Ginger. From the grunting, coughing, and splashing, there were enough
animals round that water-hole to fill all the zoos in the world six times over.
Yes, it was a bit alarming, agreed Biggles. Just sink your teeth into some of this steak, you
two, and make the most of it; it may be some time before we get another meal. And dont be too
long about it; the sooner we are on the move the farther we shall get before the sun becomes really
hot. Its going to be a scorcher again by the look of it, and Im a bit stiff from the fond embrace of
that overgrown worm last night.
Youre lucky you arent completely stiff, grinned Ginger, as he helped himself to the
uninviting fare.
It took them only a few minutes to clear up what was left of the meat; they washed it down with
a small quantity of the brackish water, and then, tightening their belts, they prepared to march.
Which way? asked Algy.
Well cut across to the telephone wire again, replied Biggles. It is certain to follow the
easiest pass through the mountains. I expect we shall find Karuli the other side of them. If
Stampoulos is growing tobacco, and I think hes bound to put up some sort of pretence of doing it,
even if the plantation isnt genuine, it wont be on these rocks, thats certain. I dont mind admitting
that Im a bit curious to see this place of his.
They found the wire without difficulty, and following its course, came to a great gash in the
mountains, the floor of which, nevertheless, ascended steeply. They could not see very far ahead,
for the ravine pursued a winding course, but that did not worry them; in fact, they were relieved to
find such an easy path, for the mountains had by now assumed alarming proportions, and they
realized that, but for the telephone wire which showed them the way into the ravine, they would
have found themselves faced with an obstacle beyond their power to cross.
In the shade offered by the towering sides of the gorge they made good progress, and a fresh
turn showed them that they had nearly reached the highest point. In their anxiety to see over the
great watershed they hurried forward, but just before they reached the top they pulled up with one
accord as a distant sound was wafted to their ears. They looked at each other expectantly, for it
was the hum of an aeroplane.
Biggles turned and raced to the summit, for the walls on either side of them restricted their field
of view, and on reaching it turned about and looked back over the plain whence came the sound.
There he is! cried Ginger, pointing to a speck in the distance.
It s the Dragon, exclaimed Algy as, notwithstanding the distance, his eyes picked out the
familiar outline.
Leroux on his way home, said Biggles. Keep under cover; at the height hes flying he will
pass over us very low, and we dont want him to see us.
In silence they stood and watched the aeroplane approach, roar past a few hundred feet over
their heads, and then rapidly diminish in size as it sped on over the unknown country ahead. They
were still watching it when the roar of the engine died away suddenly and the machine began to
lose height.
Hes going down, said Biggles. That leaves us in little doubt as to the position of Karuli.
The machine was still in the air when it faded into the haze, but was losing height quickly, and
they knew that their objective was not much more than a days march.
The subject of their attention having disappeared, they dropped their eyes to the country over
which they would have to pass, and for some minutes they regarded its wild splendour with
admiration. It was, broadly speaking, what is usually described as rolling country: that is,
undulating in rather a big way; and whereas the plain behind them had been arid in the real sense
of the word, the new panorama on which they gazed was fertile; the herbage was a soft green, and
from it rose magnificent trees, singly and in clumps, like the timber in an English park. The reason
for such a striking contrast was clearly visible, for coiling across the landscape in mighty sweeps
was a broad river. In a general way its course was from north to south, so that it formed as it were
a dividing line between the mountains and the fertile country beyond. Indeed, so close to the
mountains did it come in one of its serpentine detours that it actually disappeared from view near
the foot of the elevation on which the three airmen stood looking down with questioning eyes, to
reappear some distance farther on.
We shant be short of water again, thats evident, remarked Biggles, looking down at the
river. On the contrary, it looks as if there might be more than we want. Weve got to cross that
river to get to Karuli, and while a bath wouldnt do any of us any harm, in a country famous for its
crocodiles, hippos, and other nuisances, Id prefer to take mine in a nice enamelled tub. By James!
Stampoulos tucked himself away all right while he was about it, didnt he? If hed searched the
whole of Africawhich he may have done for all we knowhe couldnt have found a more
inaccessible spot, a place less likely to be visited by anyone. On this side he is protected by a
waterless plain, a range of mountains, and a river; on the other side by the Congo Basin which,
from what Ive heard of it, is pretty well impassable. No wonder he used air transport. We should
never have got across these mountains if we hadnt struck the pass. He broke off and glanced back
at the towering crags. As he did so his eyes went round with astonishment. Great Scott! Look at
all this, he exclaimed.
The others turned quickly and beheld an extraordinary sight. In a wide semicircle amongst the
mighty granite crags and boulders was a vast assembly of baboons. Some, most of them females,
judging by the youngsters they held in their arms, were sitting still, but others were moving steadily
forward with their almost-human eyes fixed on the intruders. Observing that they had been seen,
some of these began to voice their indignation by uttering short, sharp barks.
Ginger laughed, for the spectacle was not without humour, and it was plain from their manner as
they stood watching that not one of them suspected that they were in danger.
Then one of the baboons, an enormous creature that might have been the leader of the colony,
ran forward, chattering with rage and showing its teeth viciously. Instantly, as if it were a signal
for a general advance, many of the others began to move forward quickly, leaping from rock to
rock with amazing agility.
The expression on Biggless face changed and he began to back away. Lets get out of this, he
snapped. I believe these brutes mean trouble. Algy, turn round with me and face them; Ginger,
watch the path and tell us if there are any bad places. Look out! Mind your head!
The last warning came as a result of an unexpected action on the part of the leader of the apes. It
had seized a piece of rock and, with unbelievable ferocity, sent it hurtling down towards the now
rapidly retreating airmen. It was followed by a dozen others, and presently the side of the mountain
was alive with leaping rocks of all sizes.
Biggles abandoned all pretence at finesse. Run for it! he yelled. If one of those rocks hits any
of us it will mean broken bones at least.
In something not far removed from panic they set off down the path at a speed which normally
they would have regarded as suicidal, for it began to fall away steeply and sheer drops of several
feet were common. At one such place, where they could only scramble down one at a time, Biggles
whirled round, and seeing that the apes were still following, whipped out his automatic and let
drive at the leader. The range was too long for accurate shooting, and the bullets missed their
mark, but they made a startling noise as they ricochetted off the rocks, and the apes, who seemed to
be fully aware of the danger, slowed down.
Keep going, panted Biggles as he raced on after the others.
The ravine had now broken down into comparatively open hillside although the path was still
clearly defined; in fact, there were places where rough steps had been hewn in the granite.
A glance backward showed that the apes were still following, but they had dropped a good way
behind and it was clear that the immediate danger was past.
I dont think theyll follow us much farther now that they see were going, muttered Biggles,
wiping his forehead with his handkerchief. Wed better not stop, though. What a swine of a place
this is. What will be next, I wonder?
He was soon to know.
Breathing heavily, knuckles and shins barked by the swift descent over the rough rock, they
reached the level of the river and, turning a corner, saw it almost at their feet, the near side
actually washing the rocks on which they stood.
Biggles pulled up with a cry of dismay, looking anxiously from left to right, for although the
telephone wire spanned the river, secured on each side by heavy posts, there was no bridge, and
the river was a good fifty yards wide.
Without speaking, they walked on until they reached the edge of the water.
It looks as if we shall have to swim, after all, observed Algy.
Biggles picked up a piece of loose rock and threw it at what appeared to be a strip of bark
floating down the middle of the river. There were several such strips. It submerged instantly,
leaving a line of bubbles to mark the place where it had been.
Im not swimming in that river, he declared emphatically. Id sooner go back and face the
apes. But surely there must be some way across, or the path wouldnt be here. Peoplethose
warriors we saw, for instancemust use it. They must have come this way. Ive got it! There must
be a boat.
Its probably over on the other side, suggested Algy pessimistically.
No, I wont have that, replied Biggles warmly. Stampoulos and his dart-throwers we know
are over this side, so assuming they crossed here, the boat must be over this side, too. We shall
have to look for it.
He was quite right; there was a boat, but it took them half an hour to find it, and even then it
could hardly be called a boat. Actually, it was a dug-out canoe of the most primitive sort, being
merely a hollowed-out tree-trunk with the ends shaped roughly to points. Moreover, it was rotten,
with the freeboard broken down in places almost to the waters edge.
They found it in a peculiar place some distance below the point where the path ended by the
river. At the particular spot where they discovered it, lying half in and half out of the water, the
river actually flowed through a rift in the foot-hills of the mountains, so that not only was there a
steep rocky bank on the side on which they stood, but the wall on the other side was even steeper,
making a direct crossing impossible. The distance to the place where the wall broke down again
and became the usual reed-fringed bank was not great, but this was in the direction from which
they had come, and therefore up-stream.
How far it was before the bank occurred again down-stream they had no means of knowing, for
a bend hid it from view ; nor could they, owing to the interruption of an unscalable cliff, work their
way along to a point from which they would be able to see how far they would have to travel that
way before they could effect a landing.
For this reason Biggles hesitated after they had tilted the water out of the crazy craft and re-
launched it. He eyed the current, which, owing to the narrowing of the river caused by the rocks,
was fairly fast, with disfavour. Well, which is it to be, up-stream or down? he asked, unable to
make up his mind.
We shall make slow headway against that current if we try to go up-stream, declared Algy,
and this tub leaks like a sieve. I say lets go down.
What about carrying the boat higher up and going straight across, suggested Ginger.
Thats a good idea, agreed Biggles.
It was, and they attempted to put it into execution, only to abandon the project at once when they
found that not by their united strength could they lift the water-soaked craft.
Its no use, muttered Biggles disgustedly. It would need a dozen men to carry it.
He picked up the crude paddle and, not without difficulty, they took their placesAlgy in the
bows, Ginger in the middle, and Biggles in the stern. At first they turned the nose up-stream, but the
difficulty of making progress combined with the waywardness of the dug-out, which, not being
dead straight, went in any direction but the one desired, caused Biggles to change his mind, and as
the nose swung he allowed it to come right round until it pointed down-stream, when forward
progress became easier.
It was not long before they had an escort. It took the shape of a crocodile which appeared
suddenly on the surface of the water a few yards away and watched them malevolently with cold,
unwinking eyes. As they passed it turned and followed them.
Algy and Ginger watched it with a sort of fascinated horror.
Cant you put a bit more beef behind that paddle? muttered Algy impatiently. I dont like the
look of that customer.
If I push any harder the confounded boat will turn over, answered Biggles shortly. Keep your
hands in the boat, both of you.
Another crocodile appeared, then another and another until the water was literally swarming
with them. The canoe rounded the bend, only to face another one fifty yards farther on, so it was
now impossible to land on either side of the gulch.
They all turned pale as one of the saurians deliberately pushed its nose against the side of the
canoe, causing it to rock and ship water through one of the gaps in the freeboard; and Ginger did
not help to keep the boat steady by reaching for his automatic.
Put that thing away, you fool, grated Biggles harshly. Wound one, and one swish of its tail
would sink usAh! you swine! He raised the paddle out of the water and shifted it over to the
other side as one of the crocodiles made a grab at it.
Thereafter, the going, short as it was, became a nightmare of horror that none of them could ever
recall without a shudder. They passed through a pool that seemed to be the head-quarters of all the
crocodiles in Africa, and they surged about the canoe in a manner that made disaster seem only a
matter of seconds. Yet somehow they managed to keep it afloat, and it swerved sideways round the
bend to reveal the end of the rock on the far bank only a short distance away. At the same moment
the dug-out quivered as if a giant rasp had been drawn across the keel, and instinctively a cry
broke from Gingers lips.
Keep your head, everybody, snapped Biggles. Were nearly there.
With agonizing slowness the canoe drifted towards the bank, with Biggles making quick strokes
with the paddle as occasion offered, for the crocodiles were now making regular attempts to seize
it and pull it into the water.
Take it gently when we ground, warned Biggles. If any one tries jumping out we shall
capsize.
Several crocodiles were on the bank, but they all ran down to the water when they saw the
canoe approaching. The surge they made as they plunged in caused the water to pour over the side
of the canoe, and it began to sink bodily. Realizing the desperateness of the situation, Biggles
risked everything on one final effort. He thrust the blade of the paddle deep into the water and
hurled his weight behind it. He nearly went overboard as it was torn from his hands, but the stroke
had had the desired effect, and the nose of the frail vessel swished softly into the muddy bank. Out
you go, Ginger, he cried.
Algy leapt ashore just as the canoe sank, but the water was shallow and the others found
themselves standing only a little more than knee-deep. A splashing rush and they, too, were on the
bank, pale and trembling, while a line of cold eyes watched them from the river.
Biggles passed his hand wearily over his face. Ive had just about as much of this sort of thing
as I can stand, he murmured.
Are you telling me? sighed Ginger weakly. I shall dream of this for the rest of my life.
Well, lets see where we are, said Biggles quietly, and ran to the top of the bank.
Reaching it, he fell back a pace, staring, and there he stood while the others joined him.
Before them, not more than a hundred yards away, was a native village of low, reed-built,
conical-shaped huts. From it came a shrill cry of alarm. A crowd of warriors armed with spears
and clubs poured out of the huts and charged, yelling, towards the newcomers.
Gingers hand flew to his pocket.
No use, laddie, said Biggles sadly, shaking his head. We cant fight that mob, so its no use
irritating them. We shall do better by trying to appear friendly, I think.
CHAPTER XIV
ORDEAL BY FIRE
ANY hope they entertained in that direction, however, was squashed with such speed and
violence as to leave them breathless and flabbergasted. Indeed, with such ferocity was the
onslaught against them carried out that in his heart Biggles felt certain that the end had come; for
the natives, far from stopping a few yards away as he anticipated, dashed right in, seized them, and
flung them to the ground in a manner that was as violent as it was unexpected. Their hands were
tied behind them, and they were conducteddragged would perhaps be a better wordto a hut
and flung inside.
Algy rolled over on to his side and then struggled into a sitting position. He looked at Biggles
reproachfully. We ought to have plugged some of the skunks, he said bitterly.
We should all have been dead by now if we had; as full of spears as a hedgehog is of quills,
Biggles told him coolly.
I had an idea that the natives of Africa had all been tamed by now, but I must be wrong,
observed Algy.
It almost looks like it, doesnt it? agreed Biggles sarcastically.
What is their idea, do you suppose?
Goodness knows. I cant make it out. There s something funny about this attack ; Im sure these
people wouldnt behave like this in the ordinary way. Look out, here comes the head lad.
A shadow had fallen across the low doorway and a moment later two natives entered the hut.
Both were remarkable in appearance and equally repulsive. The first, who was evidently the chief
of the tribe, was a man of great stature, but he was fat to the point of bestiality. He was jet black,
with short curly hair and a broad face on which a tiny snub nose with gaping nostrils looked
ridiculously inadequate. His eyes were small, red-rimmed as if from disease, and set close
together, while his neck would have carried the head of a buffalo. With the two front claws
fastened over one shoulder, a magnificent leopard skin was draped across his body, caught in
round the waist by the beasts tail. This appeared to be his only garment.
The other was a little wizened old man whose wrinkled faceor what they could see of it
bespoke a tremendous age. Above his head, fixed so that it rose above his face, was a mask of
indescribable ugliness, while about his body, in chains, festoons, and garlands, hung an incredible
assortment of articles varying from old tin lids to human bones and the teeth of animals. A filthy
skirt of coloured grasses hung down from his waist, completing a picture at which the three airmen
gazed in loathing and disgust. They knew enough of Africa to be aware that he was a witch-doctor.
Theres getting a King Solomons Mines touch about this business, observed Algy, with a
courageous attempt at humour.
To this Biggles made no reply, but looking the chief straight in the eyes he asked, Do either of
you speak English?
The chief did not answer, but the witch-doctor broke into what sounded like a stream of
vituperation, waving his hands to emphasize his remarks. The noise was not unlike the chattering
of an angry monkey.
Apparently they dont, said Biggles quietly. Im afraid its going to be a bit difficult if we
cant discuss the matter with them.
That such was the case was soon made clear, for after staring at the prisoners for some minutes
the chief withdrew, and the witch-doctor, after removing the one or two odds and ends they carried
in their pockets, followed him. Hip-pockets were evidently unknown to him for he overlooked
these, so the prisoners were left in possession of their automatics, although as their hands were
securely bound they were unable to get at them.
Biggles looked at Algys wrists and saw that the bonds were strips of green hide, and he knew
at once that their chances of being able to free themselves were remote. Still, they could but try, he
decided, and was about to roll over in order to attack Algys with his teeth when a warrior
appeared and squatted down in the doorway, watching them closely.
If that scallywag is going to sit there all the time its going to be hard to get away, said Algy,
eyeing the newcomer vindictively.
He is, you can bet your boots on that, replied Biggles.
Outside a drum began beating fitfully; presently it was answered by another far away. Nothing
more was said. Utterly helpless, they could only sit and wait what might befall. Slowly the day
wore on. Once or twice there was an excited clamour outside as if something unusual was
occurring, but they were left in ignorance as to what it was. They were given neither food nor
water, and they all suffered intensely from thirst and from the attentions of myriads of flies from
whose attacks they were powerless to defend themselves.
It was nearing sunset when from outside there came a babble of excited voices, the clamour
increasing in volume as if those responsible for it were approaching the hut in which the prisoners
lay.
It sounds as if something might happen shortly, observed Biggles.
I hope it does; anything is better than this, growled Algy. If only I could get to my gun Id
give these swine something to yell about.
A moment later a black form blocked out the light and another visitor entered. They all
recognized him at once. It was the leader of the party of warriors who had accosted them while
they were repairing the Puss Moth, and he showed his teeth in a flashing grin of satisfaction as he
looked down upon them.
You no talk so big now, he said boastfully, pricking Biggless leg viciously with the point of
his spear.
Wheres your master? asked Biggles, ignoring the thrust, thinking that if the white man was
about, even if he were an enemy, he could not have so far lost caste as to leave fellow white men
to their fate at the hands of savages.
He no come here, grinned the native. By time he come, two day, three day, you say so-long.
My friends outside get much money, much bacca, much beef, much poshi, for catching you. You no
more shoot at black mans; crocodiles see you finish. With an ironic smile the man went out.
Presumably he said something to the crowd that had assembled outside, for an absolute bedlam
of jeers and shouting broke out. Nor did it cease. Indeed, as darkness fell the pandemonium
became indescribable, the clanging of tins and the banging of drums adding to the uproar.
I should like to make just one small contribution to that din, and thats the good healthy rattle of
a machine-gun, snarled Biggles, as if he could stand it no longer.
What do you think they mean to do to us? asked Ginger.
I shouldnt think about that if I were you, Biggles told him grimly.
What about trying to free my hands with your teeth? suggested Algy. There doesnt seem to
be anybody on door duty now, and if there was he couldnt see us.
At this stage anything is worth trying, replied Biggles, and turning over on to his side he began
gnawing the thongs. He knew it was hopeless from the start, for his teeth could make no impression
on the tough hide which, quite apart from anything else, tasted foul, and the smell of it nearly made
him sick. No use, he muttered at last, turning away and spitting. My stomach will stand a lot, but
not the smell of that stuff.
Outside, the darkness was suddenly dispelled by an orange glare as if a fire had been lighted; it
crept through the open doorway and bathed the faces of the prisoners with a lurid glow.
Looks as if its getting time for the balloon to go up, observed Algy philosophically.
Yes, the fireworks have started, agreed Biggles. Sorry Ive got you fellows into this jam.
I cant see that youve got us into it, murmured Ginger. Ive only one regret, and that is that
Stampoulos and Leroux look like getting away with their graft now, and poor old Marton wont see
his son again. Im afraid we havent much hope.
You never know, declared Biggles, with a conviction that he was far from feeling. While
theres life theres hope is an old saying, and the more you think about it the more patent becomes
the truth of it. When youre dead its the finish, but until then anything can happen. This isnt the
first time Ive thought I was sunk, but somehow Ive always managed to bob up again.
Well, its nice of you to cheer us up this way, replied Algy. Can you think of anything that
might save us at this juncture?
A herd of mad elephants might charge the village, suggested Biggles.
Is there such a thing, do you think? asked Ginger hopefully.
Since you force me to say it, I must admit that Ive never heard of one, confessed Biggles.
There might be an earthquake or a cloudburst, though.
Either of which would put paid to our account just as effectively as the stiffs outside, declared
Algy. Why pretend? Let us face our end with the cold, calm philosophy of our race, as they say in
books, he added sarcastically. Frankly, if they take us to that crocodile pool I shall scream my
head off. I
Oh, shut up, snapped Biggles. Here comes the procession, anyway, he went on quickly as
the uproar approached the hut.
Several natives entered. The prisoners were hauled into the open, dragged to their feet, and
marched towards an open space in the centre of the village, where the entire population had
collected in a circle round three posts that had been let into the ground near a dais on which sat the
chief. To these posts the prisoners were led; their hands were untied, and then retied behind the
posts.
Judging from the audience, I should say that this is what in film circles is called a premire,
observed Algy, looking round.
Suddenly the uproar died away; a hush fell upon the scene, and the air was tense with
expectation.
Here comes Father Christmas to do his stuff, muttered Biggles, looking towards the far side of
the circle where a gangway had opened through the spectators.
It was the witch-doctor, clad presumably in his full robes of office. The mask which he had
worn earlier in the day had been replaced by another even more monstrous, a ghastly effigy of a
crocodile. The head, with gaping jaws, protruded far in front of his face, while the skin hung down
his back until the tail dragged along the ground.
This apparition did not walk straight towards the prisoners, but commenced to make short
zigzag rushes to and fro, the end of each rush bringing it a little nearer.
I suppose weve got to put up with all this tomfoolery, growled Algy.
Of course, answered Biggles. The boys must have their fun.
From somewhere in the folds of his equipment the witch-doctor now produced a short, ivory-
handled assagai, and at the same time a dreadful noise that was something between a howl and a
scream broke from his lips, the high note being accompanied by a fierce thrust with the assagai at
an imaginary enemy.
Slowly but surely he drew nearer. The howls became more spasmodic and the spear thrusts
more vicious. A low mutter ran round the spectators, but it died away again to a breathless silence
as they saw that the witch-doctors last rush had carried him to within a few yards of Ginger.
There was a noise like wind rustling in dry leaves as two hundred throats drew a deep breath. The
witchdoctors hand went back, assagai poised.


Simultaneously a sudden outcry of voices occurred on the far side of the assembly, and several
natives began running across the open space shouting as they ran. The witchdoctor swung round
and screamed as if infuriated at this interruption, but the natives, although they kept clear of him,
continued to run. Others joined them. The chief jumped down from his seat and shouted something
at the witch-doctor, who turned and ran with a speed that was extraordinary for one so
encumbered. In a few seconds the break-up became a panic which ended in a wild stampede, and
within a minute there was not a single native in sight.
Looks as if that herd of mad elephants is coming after all, whispered Ginger, through dry lips.
Somethings coming, thats certain, muttered Biggles, staring at the point where the stampede
started.
Presently it came. Out of the darkness into the ruddy glow of the fire marched a double line of
uniformed men. They were black, but they walked smartly, with military precision, and at their
head, in khaki drill tunic, shorts, and a topee, strode a white man with a walking-stick in his hand.
Biggles took one look at the red fezzes, bandoliers, and rifles carried at the slope. Askaris, by
all thats wonderful, he breathed.
In military step the party marched across the open space to where the three airmen stood
watching them with thankful eyes. At a distance of a few yards the officer halted his men and
advanced alone, a jack-knife in his hand.
Looks as if Ive arrived at what is called the crucial moment, he observed with a curious
smile, as he severed in turn the raw-hide thongs that held the prisoners to their posts.
Yes! Believe me, were pleased to see you, smiled Biggles.
And Im pleased to see you. The officer glanced up. My name is Collison, Seventeenth
African Rifles. Youre Bigglesworth, I suppose?
Yes, thats my name, answered Biggles wonderingly.
Then I arrest you for the wilful murder of Luke Sarda, at Insula, on or about the twelfth of the
present month, said the officer curtly.
Biggles stared at him incredulously for a full ten seconds without speaking. Then a queer, half-
hysterical laugh broke from his lips.
It seems to strike you as funny, said Collison icily.
Funny! Biggles laughed again. I think thats just about the best joke I ever heard in my life,
he said simply. By the way, if youve got any water handy we could do with a drink.

CHAPTER XV
BIGGLES SPEAKS
AND now, continued Collison, when they had all drunk deeply, Im not altogether lacking in
a sense of humour, so perhaps you wouldnt mind telling me just where the joke comes in. From
my point of view, I found nothing amusing in having to tear myself and my men across that infernal
plain in the heat of the day, but we knew it was going to be touch and go whether we got here in
time.
How did you know that? asked Biggles.
The drums told us.
And I suppose thats how you knew we were here in the first place?
Of course. Every native within a hundred miles knows that three strange white men are in
Limshoda.
Is that the name of this village ?
It is. Youd have done well to avoid it: its got a nasty reputation.
We didnt even know it was here, much less know about its reputation, Biggles told him
frankly. Are you in a great hurry to push on anywhere to-night?
No, we shall have to spend the night here; my men need a rest.
So do we, for that matter, answered Biggles. Im glad, because I should like to have a few
words of conversation with you.
I want a few words with you, too, although it is my duty to warn you that anything you may say
may be used as evidence against you.
That sounds like good old solid English to me, grinned Biggles. Lets find a place to sit
down.
Are you going to give me your parole?
No, I certainly am not.
I warn you that if you attempt to escape my men will
Thats the last thing Im thinking about at the moment, interrupted Biggles. For one thing Im
far too tired. All the same, I wont give my parole not until weve had a chat, anyway. Shall we
go to one of the huts?
If you knew as much about native huts as I do you wouldnt willingly go within a mile of one,
declared Collison. Lets sit by the fire; the smoke will help to keep the mosquitoes away.
They walked across to where the fire was beginning to settle down into a heap of glowing
embers. Beside it, for it was too large for them to sit round it, they sat, or rather squatted, on stools
that some of the Askaris fetched from the huts.
I suppose I may assume that youve been to Insula? inquired Biggles.
You may assume what you like, Bigglesworth, Collison answered curtly. But youre here to
answer questions, not to ask them.
All right, theres no need to be provocative, replied Biggles quietly. We shall both get
farther and fare better by maintaining friendly relations than we shall by getting at loggerheads.
And let me say this. I realize that your present attitude towards us is in keeping with your
instructions, or, in case you are acting on your own initiative, the charge that you have preferred
against us. But dont ask me to believe that youve stumbled into this business by accident. Now!
The sooner I am able to convince you that you are on the wrong tack, the better will be our chance
of winding up successfully the business that brought us to Africa, and the better will be your
chance of doing yourself and your regiment a bit of good. So I suggest that either I give you the
facts about this affair, or alternatively Ill answer any questions you like; but it will save time if I
tell you the story. Weve nothing to hide.
Ive only one question to ask, put in Collison. Did you kill Sarda?
I did, replied Biggles.
No you didnt, I did, cried Ginger.
Very well, let us say that we did, suggested Biggles.
Then thats all I want to know, said Collison briefly.
Maybe its all you want to know, but there are a lot of other things you ought to know, and a lot
of things youve thundering well got to know, declared Biggles coldly. If Im right in my
judgement, the information you hold was furnished by one man. Its his word against ours. Now
look, Collison: Ive been a soldier. I was a soldier while you were a kid squealing in a cradle, so
Im not ignorant of military procedure. If youre going to take things for granted because a
renegade Frenchman shot a cock-and-bull story into your ear, youre heading for a court martial.
This is a bigger thing than you imagine. Im not threatening, but by the Lord Harry, Ive been
through too much to stand for any nonsense, from you or any one else.
At the word Frenchman Collison started. What do you know about?
Leroux ? More than you do. His real name isnt Leroux, for a start, and hell be doing a ten
years stretch when this show is finished. I suppose he went and saw you at Juba?
Malakal.
It doesnt matter where. He told you about Sarda, and sent you off after us. Gave you a lift to
Insula to hurry things up, as likely as not.
Matter of fact, he did, in his aeroplane.
Our aeroplane, you mean. Or, to be absolutely accurate, Mr. Martons aeroplane. That
machine was bought by Mr. Felix Marton, of Birmingham, to enable us to search for his son.
Collison stared. Do you mean that youre here looking for young Marton, the boy who
disappeared on a Cape flight a year or so ago?
Yes, thats why were here.
Can you prove that?
Easily, but it will take a few hours. The documents referring to the matter, with my log-book
and small kit, are in my kit-bag at an emergency landing-ground a few miles to the east of this
place. We hid them when we pushed on here. If you care to send a couple of runners to collect it
and bring it here give you my parole until they come back.
Whose was that crashed aeroplane I saw there? We came that way, of course.
Harry Martons, but he didnt crash it. It was stolen by the man who calls himself Leroux.
Collisons manner changed as he grew interested. Stolen? What on earth for?
For one of two reasons. Either because Marton had tumbled on the secret activities of a firm,
with headquarters in Cairo, for whom Leroux acts as pilot, or because Leroux wanted the
aeroplane the better to pursue those activities.
And what are these activitiesdo you know?
Dope running. The biggest dope racket that any one has ever run in the Middle East is
operating between Karuli and Cairo.
Collison stared. What is the dope?
Hashish.
1

It was some seconds before Collison spoke. Are you pulling my leg? he asked suspiciously.
I certainly am not. This is no time for leg-pulling. Do I look as though I should be likely to
waste time talking rubbish?
But why didnt you report this to the authorities?
Because Ive only just discovered what is going on. You see, when I was last at that landing-
ground on the other side of the plain, I was standing by the crash when I caught a whiff of an aroma
that reminded me of something, something that I had smelt once before. You know how the memory
of a smell will persist for ages, and can bring back a scene as nothing else will. At the time I
couldnt remember what the smell was, or what it reminded me of. Lacey and I once had a spot of
trouble with a Greek in the Red Sea; curiously enough his name was Stampoulos, and he may be
the same man for all I know, although it isnt an uncommon Greek name. I saw some hashish then,
and just now the whole thing came back to me.
2
That Puss Moth which you saw crashed there has
been used for a year by Leroux, and the inside of the three-ply luggage compartment smells of
hashish. Go and smell it for yourself if you dont believe me.
But what about young Marton? What happened to himdo you know that?
I believe he is within ten miles of us at this moment, a prisoner on Stampouloss alleged
tobacco plantationwhich I suspect isnt tobacco at all, but the hemp from which hashish is
made.
Good heavens!
You may well look shaken.
I think youd better tell me the whole story, suggested Collison.
Certainly, answered Biggles willingly, and he related the events that had occurred since their
arrival at Insula. Now look here, Collison, he went on quickly, when he had finished, I know
youve only got my word for all this, but I can soon furnish proof if you still feel you need it. Dont
lose sight of the fact, though, that we are within an ace of finding Harry Marton, and, frankly, thats
all were concerned with. From your point of view the hashish business is, no doubt, a much
bigger thing. Well, you can take all the kudos that may be coming on that account. I want Harry
Marton, thats all, and Im going to get him, with or without your consent. To waste time now
would be fatal. If once Stampoulos and his crowd get wind of whats happened here to-night, or
learn that we are talking together, theyll get into my machine and fly away; and they wont come
back. Either that or theyll get rid of everything incriminating that may be about. Either way, Harry
Marton will disappear for ever.
What do you suggest ?
I suggest that first of all you send a couple of your men off to fetch our kit-bags; then, that you
give usthat is, Lacey, Hebblethwaite, and myselffull rein for twenty-four hours. You can come
with us and watch us if you like. At the end of that time, whether we are successful or not, well
report back to you. You can have my parole on that. That lets you out if we are mistakennot that I
think there is any likelihood of that. Frankly, I should feel happier if you would row in with us, but
I see the drawbacks to that from your point of view. If there was any troubleshooting, for
instanceand our plans went wrong, youd be in the cart when you went back to your
headquarters for letting us go. But dont forget this. Im not going to attempt to apprehend
Stampoulos or Leroux. As long as I get young Marton and my Dragon they can go on growing
hashish, and eating it if they like, until theyre blue in the face. Thats not my affair. I dont feel
inclined to lumber myself up with prisoners, or hang about Africa for weeks waiting for the trial to
come on. But Ill do this. You throw in your lot with us and well go for a clean sweepwork
together for a complete roundup. Then, if we get away with it, Ill take Marton and you can have
the hashish crowd. Ill give you a written statement describing how Sarda met his death if you
like, or Ill come back to Africa in person and tell the story to a jury. Now make up your mind, for
theres no time to be lost.
What would be your plan if I agreed to this ?
Go straight to Karuli just as soon as weve had a bite of food and settle the whole thing one
way or the other.
Inspired by Biggless enthusiasm, Collison was on his feet in a moment. Im your man, he
said, offering his hand. I think I know a true story when I hear one. Between ourselves, I didnt
like the look of that fellow Leroux, but as you must see, I was bound to follow the thing up.
Of course you were, agreed Biggles emphatically. Are you going to take command, or am I?
I suggest that we all go to Karuli together. When we get there we can scout round and decide
on the best course. I shall have to have proof before I
Harry Marton will supply you with all the evidence youll need if we can get hold of him,
declared Biggles grimly. Find us a biscuit or two and a tin of bully, and well be ready to trek just
as soon as you are.

1
Hashish is an insidious drug used widely in Egypt and the Far East, where it is called bhang, or Indian hemp.
Produced chiefly in Greece, it is smuggled in large quantities into Egypt where it is in great demand in spite of the
vigilance of the special officers whose duty it is to combat the traffic. The history of the tricks that have been
employed to smuggle the drug into the country would fill a volume. Most of the big men in the trade are
Europeans, chiefly Greeks and Armenians, although the actual distributors are natives. To a vast number of
Egyptians hashish is what tobacco is to other races, and while the demand for it exists no doubt unscrupulous
traffickers will risk imprisonment for the large sums of money successful smuggling produces.
2
See The Sheikh and the Greek in the book of short stories entitled Biggles Flies Again.
CHAPTER XVI
THE ROUND-UP
TWENTY minutes later the column was on the march, the four white men walking in front and
the askaris in file behind. In scouting round the village for signs of the evacuated natives they had
found a path leading in the direction of Karuli, so there was no danger of losing the way. Smoking
had been forbidden, and the passage of the party was almost as stealthy as that of the wild beasts
that occasionally crossed their path.
For two hours the party marched, and then a small cluster of lights ahead told them that they
were nearing their destination. Thereafter the party moved with extra caution, the order no
talking being passed from man to man down the column, and they were not more than a quarter of
a mile away from the lights when Collison gave the order to halt.
Have you any idea of the lay-out of this place? Biggles asked him in a whisper.
Not the remotest, was the answer. Whats your idea of the best plan of procedure?
Biggles thought for a moment, eyeing the lights speculatively. Ill tell you what I think, he said
quietly. If we all go forward, and anything happens to warn them of our approach, theyll clean
everything up by the time we get thereincluding Marton. As likely as not theyll try to do the
same thing if you walk straight up to the place, whether we are with you or not, for they can hardly
refuse you admission. That in itself would look fishy. At the same time, its a bit difficult for you
as a serving officer in an official capacity to go snooping about the place like a spy; I mean, youd
look a bit cheap if they caught you at it. With us it would be altogether different. I suggest therefore
that you detail all your men except one or two to surround the place. We will then go forward and
reconnoitre. If there is anything to report, well come back and let you know. If you hear any
shooting, or anything in the nature of a rough house, you can hurry along to the bungalowor
whatever it isat the same time blowing your whistle for your men to close in. At present our
great advantage lies in the fact that our presence here must be absolutely unsuspected.
How many people are there likely to be in the bungalow, do you think? asked Collison.
Ive no idea, admitted Biggles. Its almost certain that Leroux is there because we watched
him land here this morning. There is a Greek, who may be Stampoulos, about somewhere, but the
last we saw of him was at Insula. Whether hes got back or not I dont know, but I should think its
quite likely if he managed to get across the river.
What do you mean? Theres no difficulty about that.
We had an awful time getting across this morning in that ramshackle canoe.
Why use the canoe? That was abandoned long ago. Theres a flying bridge.
Whats that?
A kind of flat punt affair that goes to and fro on a wire ; there s a rope on it so that whichever
side of the river you happen to arrive at you can pull it over to you.
We didnt see it.
Possibly you wouldnt unless you knew it was there because it is some distance above the
pass.
I see. Well, never mind that now; what do you think of my idea? Shall I take my party for a
look round?
I think its a sound scheme. Id like to come with you, but I see your point about keeping out of
the way for the time being.
All right, then; well get off. If you hear nothing, wait until we return; if theres a row, come
along at the double.
Thats clear. Off you go, then.
Biggles touched Algy and Ginger lightly on the arm. Come on, chaps. This should be the last
act, he added quietly as he glided away into the darkness in the direction of the lights.
He pulled up in the dark shadow of a tree at a point where the open veldt gave way to
cultivated country, and beckoned the others to come nearer. Weve got to watch our step, he said
quietly. Remember, were not alone; we have Collison to consider, which doesnt give us quite
the same freedom as we are accustomed to. Still, its useless to say what we may or may not do
until we see how the land lies. The landing-ground must be on the other side of that building,
which I take to be the bungalow, he went on, peering into the darkness. The lamps are still alight,
so Stampoulos and Co. havent yet gone to bed although it must be getting late. We mustnt waste
time; the lights may go out at any moment, and Id sooner arrive while they are alight because we
shall stand a better chance of learning something. Have your guns handy, but dont for heavens
sake use them unless it becomes absolutely necessary.
They walked on again, only to stop once more while Biggles examined the crops that now
appeared on either side of the path.
What is it? breathed Algy, as Biggles fingered the broad leaves of one of the plants that grew
in seried ranks as far as they could see.
Its tobacco all right, theres no doubt about that, was the mystified answer. Stand fast,
added Biggles, and walked several yards into the growth. He was soon back. Cunning devils, he
almost hissed. Theres something else growing in the middle which I take to be hemp; the tobacco
round the edges of the field is merely camouflage.
In silence they crept nearer to the lights that marked the position of the bungalow, and as they
drew nearer it became possible to see the dark silhouette of other buildings near at hand. One, a
large one, particularly attracted Biggless attention, and he made his way towards it cautiously.
Another few paces and the crops ended abruptly, leaving them facing a vast, open area, silent
and mysterious in the dim starlight, on the edge of which stood the building.
Heres the aerodrome, and that, I fancy, is the hangar, breathed Biggles. Watch out, there may
be a guard.
They saw no one, however, and it took them only a few minutes to confirm that the building
was, in fact, a reed-built hangar like the one at Insula. Moreover, the Dragon was inside with her
tanks filled ready for flight, a condition that Biggles ascertained while the others remained on
guard. He also found something else, something that gave him a thrill of elation when he
discovered it. In the cabin were a number of neat packages, each marked with a number.
We could get away now if we wanted to, he murmured, as he rejoined the others. In the
ordinary way all we should have to do would be to find Marton, but as things are weve got to stay
and help Collison to clean up. Lets go and have a look at the bungalow.
In single file they began to walk quietly towards the building, from which three shafts of yellow
light lit up the bare earth outside. From it came the sound of voices, one raised high as if in anger.
At the same time a low murmur became audible from another building some distance farther on, a
long, low structure, the roof of which was illuminated from time to time by a flickering orange
glow, as if a fire were burning somewhere on the other side of it.
I should say thats the native compound, breathed Biggles. Theyre bound to employ a lot of
labour here, so whatever we do must be done quietly or we shall stir up a hornets nest.
Nearer they crept to the bungalow, approaching it from an angle, so that the details of its
construction could be seen on two sides. One side, which was, in fact, the end of the building, was
in complete darkness, although they could see the black square that marked the position of a
window. But the other elevation, which was the front of the house, was ablaze with light which
came from three windows. Two were quite small, but the other held their interest, for it ran nearly
half the length of the building, and ended at a door, which stood open. So much they could see,
although the whole of the front of the house was shaded to some extent by a roof that overhung for
several feet, supported at intervals by stout posts, forming the usual shady veranda. As far as they
could make out, the room behind it into which the door opened was the main room of the building,
for both the door and the long window commanded a broad view of the path, the plantation, and, to
one side, the native compound.
Unfortunately, the door was at the far end of the window from where they stood, and Biggles
observed that the only way it could be reached without crossing the front of the big window, and
thereby risking discovery, was to go round the dark side of the house.
He might then crawl under one of the smaller windows, the sill of which was about three feet
above the level of the veranda, and survey the interior of the room before going on to the door
not that it was by any means certain that he would find it necessary to enter through that particular
door.
At this stage his plans were still rather in the air, because he did not know what the men inside
were doing. He realized that if they were engaged in some quite harmless occupation it would be
in the nature of an anti-climax to walk into the room and make charges which they would certainly
deny. In any case, he decided, that was Collisons job. His primary object was to find out if Harry
Marton was in the building, and if so, rescue him before any harm could come to him.
Nevertheless, a peep into the lighted room was clearly desirable, and with this object in view he
edged his way a little to the right in order to get into the dark shadow on the unlighted side of the
building.
With the others following him unquestioningly, he crept stealthily towards the wall,
approaching it almost at right angles.
It may be that such a small thing as a stone, or a kink in a chain, saved his life, for although he
was alert for any emergency, he was certainly not expecting danger from the direction in which it
came. The first warning he had of it was a faint chink as if a small piece of metal had dropped
upon another. At the time his attention was divided between the dark wall which he was attempting
to reach, and the door on the lighted side of the bungalow in case any one came out of it; for which
reason his eyes were fixed at his own level and not on the ground. But at the metallic noise, slight
as it was, his eyes switched to the point whence it came, which seemed to be on the ground at the
base of the wall. At first, all he could make out was a smallish, black shadow, but as he stared at
it, trying to see what it was, it moved, and the movement brought it into a new angle of starlight. As
if suddenly illuminated from within, two green orbs of light glowed in the darkness.
He did not wait to see what it was, but instinctively sprang backward, colliding violently with
Ginger who was close behind him, and who, caught completely unaware, had no time to avoid him.
Clutching at each other to save themselves from falling, neither succeeded, but both went
sprawling on the hard ground. Simultaneously, there was a deep-throated snarl, a harsh clang of
metal and a loud thud.
Biggles was up in a flash, drawing his gun at the same time, eyes feverishly seeking the cause of
the dbcle. He saw Algy bending forward, tense as a spring, his right hand out-thrust, and heard
his quickly muttered, Its all rightdont shoot.
What is it ? Biggles gasped, breathing heavily, for the fall had knocked the wind out of him.
Its a leopard I think, but its on a chain, muttered Algy. The chain is fixed to something under
the window. The brute sprang at you, but you stepped back just in time. That bang you heard was
the chain jerking taut; it pulled the beast up short and threw it on to its back. I wonder it didnt
break its neck. Its still there, crouching under the window... see it? We shall have to go another
way.
Biggles stood for a moment watching the animal while he recovered his breath. Are you all
right, Ginger? he asked.
Yes, Im all right.
Sorry I barged into you like that, but I had to move quickly.
So I noticed.
Has any one heard us, do you think, Algy?
I dont think so. I can still hear talking going on inside; it sounds as if theres an argument in
progress.
They all went back to the front of the house, keeping in the shadow slightly to one side.
Im going to have a look into that room, declared Biggles. Stand still.
Half a dozen quick steps took him to the edge of the shadow in which they stood, so he dropped
on to all fours and crawled quickly to the verandah, taking care to keep below the level of the
window. Then, very slowly, he drew himself up until he could see over the sill, and the sight that
met his curious stare caused him to catch his breath sharply.
With his hands tied together and fastened to a hook in the wall was a youth whose pale face he
recognized instantly. It was Harry Marton. Standing beide him, with the stock of a jambok in his
right hand and the thongs in the other, was the native who had spoken to them while they had been
repairing the Puss Moth, and who, only a few hours ago, had gloated over them as they lay in the
hut at Limshoda. From the expression on his face he was enjoying himself.
Seated at a small table in the middle of the room with glasses in their hands were two white
men. One was Leroux, and the other was the tall man whom they had last seen at Insula. Both were
leaning back in long cane chairs, with cigarettes between their fingers, watching the scene. Leroux
was speaking.
We give you something to remember, he said. Go ahead, Chola.
Biggles waited for no more. At the spectacle before him all the worry and anxiety he had
suffered during the past few days seemed to merge into one searing impulse of cold fury that set his
nerves tingling and drew his lips back from his teeth in a mirthless grin.
Come on, he snapped over his shoulder to the others, and without waiting for them, dashed to
the door.
On the threshold he pulled up short, crouching forward, eyes gleaming, his automatic waving
gently like the head of a snake about to strike, as it covered the startled occupants. Move! he
snarled. Move, one of you! Why dont you move and give me an excuse to blow you in halves,
you dirty, crooked rats in white skins. Ive had to kill better men than you, and my fingers
twitching to fill you full of holes for the pleasure of doing it. He broke off, nostrils quivering, his
blazing eyes never leaving the faces of the two white men, who did not move, but sat staring in a
wide-eyed amazement that in different circumstances might have been comical. He heard the others
just behind him, and took a pace forward into the room.


Algy, cut down that boy, he rapped out in a voice that was as cold and hard as cracking ice.
Shoot that black devil if he so much as winks an eyelid. Ginger, go and hail Captain Collison. As
for you, he continued, to Leroux and Stampoulos, as the others obeyed his instructions, you dont
know how lucky you are that Collison is here, or anything I have to say to you, which isnt much,
would be said with this. He flicked the muzzle of the automatic. Keep your hands on the table,
both of you. One false move is all the excuse I need to hand you what you deserve, and Im praying
for you to make it. He broke off as Collison, with a file of askaris behind him, hurried into the
room, looking from one to the other questioningly.
Here are your men, Collison, Biggles told him tersely. If you have any doubt as to what their
business is, there are acres of hemp growing outside and an aeroplane loaded with hashish in the
hangar.
At the word hashish Leroux and Stampoulos stirred uneasily. Stampoulos rose to his feet, and
opened his mouth to speak.
Youd better keep anything you have to say for the court, Collison warned him curtly.

An hour later, with the prisoners handcuffed and under armed guard in the room that had been
Harry Martons prison for more than a year, and Collisons askaris rounding up the natives in the
compound, the rest of the white men sat round the table recently used by Leroux and Stampoulos.
Harry Marton, still looking pale and tired, was telling his story, while Collison, note-book in hand,
was making notes.
There really isnt very much to tell, Harry was saying. As you probably know, I got as far as
Malakal without any trouble, and it was just as I was about to leave that I met this villain Leroux.
He told me that he was a pilot and had been forced to land near Insula, where he had left his
companion who was dying of fever. He asked me to go out and bring him in. What could I do?
What would you have done, Bigglesworth?
Im afraid I should have done what you did, confessed Biggles.
Yes, of course I had to go, went on Harry. I was ahead of my time, and I worked it out that
there was still a chance of getting the record. Leroux said he would come with me to show me the
way. Well, we went, and I never had the slightest reason for suspicion. Sure enough, there was a
crashed machine lying near the edge of the landing-groundan old French machine, by the look of
itwhich Leroux said was his. I landed near it. There was nobody in it, so Leroux said that his
friend must have gone down to the rest-house. So to the rest-house we went, where a half-caste
scoundrel named Sarda brought us drinks. How on earth could I have imagined that... well, that the
drink contained dope?
Of course you couldnt, put in Biggles.
Well, there I was. I just flopped out and that was all I knew about it. When I woke up I was at
this place. Leroux afterwards told me that he and Sarda just carried me back to my own machine
and he flew me here the same day. And here I have been a prisoner ever since, compelled to keep
my machine in order for their use.
I suppose thats why they kept you alive ? suggested Collison.
Of course. When I arrived here Lerouxs mechanic was down with fever, and Leroux himself
is no engineer. In any case, neither he nor his mechanic knew anything about the rigging of a Puss,
nor had they ever seen an engine like mine. So they flogged me and threatened me with death
unless I kept the machine in order for them. Then Barrail, the mechanic, died, and then they had to
keep me. I did what they told me because I always hoped that sooner or later Id get a chance to
escape. I knew, of course, that they would never let me go willingly, because I should have gone
straight to the police. Once I escaped, but the natives caught me and brought me back. I was
flogged for it, and after that a leopard was always kept chained under my window to prevent me
from ever trying to escape that way again.
We know all about that gentleman; I nearly trod on him when I was looking for you just now,
smiled Biggles.
You knew what they were doing, I suppose? suggested Collison.
No, I didnt. I never did find out, but I guessed that it was something illegal. Sometimes, after I
had finished work on the machine, I was made to do housework, so I knew all about the telephone.
I was working near it the other day when it rang, and in desperation I answered it, but I only had
time to get out one or two words when Stampoulos came into the room and knocked me down.
All the same, it was a lucky chance, because thats how we first knew that you were alive,
Biggles told him. It was Ginger ringing up from Insula. Its fairly clear to see what happened, he
went on, turning to Collison. Leroux really did crash his machine, and what with that and his
mechanic being sick, he was in a mess for transport. He was probably going up to Cairo by
Imperial Airways to report the state of affairs at his head-quarters, or perhaps to fetch another
machine, when Harry happened to land at Malakal and put an idea into his crooked mind. A crook
will always choose a crooked path in preference to a straight one, so he decided to steal an
aeroplane and a mechanic at one stroke. It was a clever scheme, for there was very little risk. In
nine cases out of ten he would have got away with it, but Harry happened to have a father who
wouldnt take official reports for granted.
And what are you fellows going to do now? asked Collison.
If its all right with you, I propose to hit the breeze for England, in the Dragon, as soon as it is
daylight and your men come back with our kitbags. There are four of us now, but we can manage
seven, so if you like well give you and your two prisoners a lift as far as Malakal.
Thats fine, agreed Collison. My fellows can march back with the native prisoners, and you
can make out your reports at my head-quarters. If youll do that I dont think any objection will be
raised to your pushing straight on home.
CHAPTER XVII
IN CONCLUSION
FIVE days later a touching reunion took place at Croydon aerodrome, where Mr. Marton senior,
who had been notified of their coming, met his son and the three airmen who had been responsible
for his rescue. Tears sparkled in the old mans eyes when he put his hands on his sons shoulders
and looked into his careworn face. Biggles turned away.
Yes, I think its time we were moving off, observed Algy softly.
But Mr. Marton called them back. Where are you going? he asked.
Weller, I dont exactly know, but I expect were going home, stammered Biggles. Weve
no immediate plans, if thats what you mean.
Then what do you say to a little reunion dinner tonight? Ive yet to thank you for what youve
done, and Im anxious to hear the whole story; there is also a littleerbusiness matter to be
settled yet.
I think thats a fine idea, smiled Biggles.
Seven oclock at the Savoy?
Well be there, Biggles assured him. Goodbye for the present.
Au revoir.
And thats that, murmured Ginger reflectively, as they walked towards the customs barrier to
check in.
As you rightly remark, thats that, agreed Biggles.

THE END