Part 16 (2/2)

'Of course.'

'She might do it. She's got brains, that old lady. I remember, out huntin', how she watched for the rabbit holes.'

'Here they go,' came Copper's voice from the ground. 'What did I tell yer, Trapper old chum? Didn't I tell yer we should be fox huntin'

ternight if these two got tergether?'

Trapper clicked his tongue. 'You said it.'

Not so much talking, you two,' requested Gimlet. 'Watch what you're doing.'

'We're all set, sir,' informed Copper, straightening his back. 'Good. All right. You can pull the plug.'

Copper took the sparking plunger in both hands and thrust it home.

Ginger was prepared for a certain amount of noise, but not for what actually happened.

He nearly went over backwards as the earth erupted in a dozen places at once. Spears of flame leapt skyward, taking with them objects that could not be identified. Into the reverberations of the explosions came the crash of falling pylons, which gave a wonderful display of blue sparks as the electrical connections snapped and shorted.

Small arms ammunition continued to crackle in spasmodic bursts from the direction of the ammunition dump. Black smoke began to roll up above a lurid glow.

'Jolly good show, old boy,' murmured Bertie.

'Looks as if we got the fuel tanks after all,' observed Gimlet thoughtfully. He turned to Biggles. 'I wasn't quite sure about them because, having got your message, I had to finish in a bit of a hurry.'

'If I'm any judge of this sort of thing you've made a pretty job of it,'

complimented Biggles.

'Bent the old microphone somewhat, I'll bet,' said Bertie cheerfully.

'Yes. I don't think there will be any Music While You Work from this station for a day or two,' agreed Gimlet.

'In that case we might as well be getting back,' suggested Biggles. 'I don't think we've much to worry about. Everyone seems to be busy trying to put the fires out. From what I can see from here the place is in too much of a flap for anyone to organise anything.'

'Poor old Erich,' said Bertie sadly. 'He'll get a kick in the pants from the boys who thought out this jolly little scheme. Serves him right. Yes, by Jove! absolutely.'

'It's his own fault,' a.s.serted Biggles. 'He will play with the wrong sort of people. Still, I hope nothing serious happens to him. We should miss him. He keeps us on our toes. But let's get mobile.'

They set off, and making good time, overtook Wung and his party just before they reached the coast. There was no pursuit; or if there was, no sign of it was seen. Which was just as well, because the dinghy had to make several trips between the sh.o.r.e and the aircraft to get everyone aboard. However, it was only a matter of time. When the last journey had been completed the dinghy was deflated, and abandoned to save weight, and the Scorpion, loaded to capacity, with Algy at the stick, took off and set a course for its base.

Biggles found Ross and congratulated him on his splendid work. 'By the way,' he went on, looking round. 'Which of these lads is your friend, Macdonald?'

'He isn't here, sir,' answered Ross.

Biggles looked disappointed. 'Why not?'

'He was shot some days ago, trying to escape,' said Ross, in a tremulous voice. 'He blamed himself for getting me into the business.'

'I'm sorry,' consoled Biggles quietly. 'I'm afraid that's the sort of thing that happens only too often when fellows decide to take the bit in their teeth.'

Bertie was sitting next to Gimlet. 'You were telling me about old Seagull?' he prompted.

Copper breathed heavily and nudged Trapper in the ribs. ”Ere they go agin,' he said plaintively. 'This is where I s.n.a.t.c.h a spot of shut-eye.

Strewth! Could I do with a nice plate o' fish and chips? My oath I could.

This stayin' up all night always did make me peckish.'

Ginger looked at Cub and smiled. 'That's not a bad idea,' he whispered.

'I'm a bit weary myself'

The engines droned on under stars that were beginning to pale with the approach of another day.

That really is the end of the story as far as it concerned Biggles and his comrades. The Scorpion reached its base without trouble of any sort, and after a day's rest Biggles took off on the return flight home. He took Ross with him. The other repentant deserters were left behind, having been handed over to the proper military authority for disciplinary action.

Guardsman Ross, it may be said here, was subsequently awarded the Distinguished Conduct Medal for the part he had played, much to the astonishment of his comrades in barracks who had supposed him to be absent without leave.

It turned out that Ross knew the names of some of the renegades who had volunteered to act as spies behind the lines in Korea. Army Intelligence Officers, with this information, soon picked them up. Their fate remained a matter for conjecture. Nothing more was heard of them.

The raid on the village of Fashtun, their headquarters, was made by a force of Marine Commandos with satisfactory results. Biggles knew no more about that than was published in the newspapers, except, of course, he knew why the raid was made. As he said to the others, when they returned to normal duties after a few days break, he had no further interest in Korea.

But he had an interest in a letter that arrived some time later. A slow smile spread over his face as he read it. 'You won't guess who this is from so I'll tell you,' he said. 'Smith, our friend in Prague. He's home, and wants us to have a meal with him.'

'Well, blow me down!' cried Bertie. 'How did he manage it?'

'He doesn't say,' answered Biggles. 'But it should be quite a story'

And it was. But this is not the place to tell it.

end.

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