Part 7 (2/2)

Ginger went to sleep, to dream of ants. The forest had taken on a new horror.

o SWIFT DEVELOPMENTS.

GINGER was awakened in the morning by a wild shout from Biggles, a shout that brought him, still half dazed with sleep, to the deck. It was just beginning to get light, and it did not take him long to see what was amiss. The water, which normally was black, was now streaked with yellow, and was swirling past at a speed sufficient to cause the Wanderer to drag her anchor. There was, as far as he could see, no reason for this, and he said so.

It must be raining higher up the river,' declared Biggles. 'The water is rising fast. We shall have to tie up to the bank-the anchor won't hold.'

By this time they were all on deck, and between them the machine was soon made fast to a tree-stump. Biggles stared for A minute at the sky, and then at the river.

'We've no time to lose ifwe're going to get that petrol,' he said urgently. 'Apart from the current, with all this mud coming down we soon shan't be able to see a thing under the water. Algy, you stay here and look after things. Ginger, Dusky come with me.' So saying, Biggles picked ill) a length of line, jumped ash.o.r.e, and set off down the riverbank at a run, Ginger and Dusky following behind. Ginger noted that there was little, if anything, to mark the pa.s.sage of the ants.

It did not take them long to reach the raft, where the water was only just becoming discoloured. Biggles carried a large piece of loose rock on board, and pushed off; then using the rock as an anchor, he brought the raft to a stop over the spot where the canoe had sunk-or as near to it as he.could judge. Throwing off his jacket, and holding a spare piece of line, he prepared to dive.

'Here! What about the alligators?' cried Ginger in alarm.

I shall have to risk it,' answered Biggles curtly. 'We've got to get some petrol, or, we're sunk. Dusky, you keep your eyes open for danger.' With this Biggles disappeared under the' water.

He had to make three dives before he located the sunken canoe. After this there was a short delay while the raft was moored directly over it. Then the work was fairly straightforward, and had it not been for the rising water, and the discoloration, it would probably have been possible to salve every petrol-can, for Biggles had only to tie the line to a handle while the others hauled it up. As it was, by the time seven cans had been recovered the river was in full spate, and the raft straining at its moorings in a manner which told them that their position was already perilous. With some difficulty they got the raft, with its precious load, to the bank, after which began the work of transporting the cans to the aircraft. By the time this was done the river was a swirling flood, bringing down with it debris of all sorts.

It's getting worse,' announced Algy, with a worried frown, as they poured the petrol into the tank. 'We shall never hold the machine here in this, and if she gets into the rapids she'

s a gonne r. '

'We'll go down the river to the coast and report to Carruthers,' declared Biggles. 'It's no use going on with our job while that rat Chorro is at large, advising the Tiger of all our movements. We've got just about enough petrol to do it. Get those empty cans ash.o.r.e, and stand by to cast off.' So saying, Biggles went through to the c.o.c.kpit.

Algy went forward to cast off the mooring-rope, but seeing that he was having difficulty with it, for the Wanderer was pulling hard, Ginger went to his help. At the same time Dusky started throwing the empty cans on the bank. In view of what happened, these details are important. Actually, just what did happen, or how it happened, none of them knew-beyond the fact that the line suddenly snapped. Ginger made a despairing grab at it, slipped, clutched at Algy, and dragged him overboard with him. The Wanderer, breaking free, bucked, and Dusky, caught in the act of throwing, also went overboard.

All three managed to reach the bank, while the Wanderer went careering downstream.

From the bank, Algy, Ginger and Dusky stared at it with horror-stricken eyes, too stunned to speak, helpless to do anything.

Ginger felt certain that the machine would be wrecked in the rapids. Not for a moment did he doubt it. And it was not until he heard the Wanderer's engines come to life that he realised that Biggles still had a chance. He could no longer see the machine, for overhanging trees, and a bend in the river, hid it from view. But when, presently, the aircraft appeared in the air above them, and he knew that Biggles had succeeded in getting off, he sat down limply, weak from shock.

Algy looked at the machine, and then at the river. 'He'll never dare to land again,' he announced.

'He'd be a fool to try,' declared Ginger: 'At least, not until the flood had subsided,' he added.

They watched the Wanderer circle twice; then, as it pa.s.sed low over them, something white fluttered down, and they made haste to collect it. It was an empty tin; in it was a slip of paper on which Biggles had written, 'Wait. Going to coast.'

'That's the wisest thing he could do-go down and fill the tank, and let Carruthers know about Chorro,' remarked Ginger. 'We shan't take any harm here for a few hours.'

I hope you realise that we've no food, and that we haven't a weapon between us except Dusky's knife,' muttered Algy.

In that case we shall have to manage without,' returned Ginger.

'Food-me find,' put in Dusky confidently, indicating the forest with a sweep of his arm.

'You mean you can find food in the forest?' asked Algy hopefully.

'Sure, boss, I find.'

'What sort of food?'

'Honey-roots--fruit, maybe.'

'Good. In that case we might as well start looking for lunch.' 'You stay-I find,'

answered Dusky. 'Plenty fever in forest. I go now.'

All right, if that's how you want it,' agreed Algy. Dusky disappeared into the gloomy aisles of the jungle.

For some time Algy and Ginger sat on a log gazing moodily at the broad surface of the river. There was little else they could do, for they dare not risk leaving the spot, in case Dusky should return and wonder what had become of them. It did not occur to either of them that they were in any danger. Perhaps they felt that in such a case Dusky would have warned them, although later they agreed that they were both to blame for what happened-but then it was too late.

They did not even see where the natives came from. There was a sudden rush, and before they realised what was happening they were both on their backs, held down by a score or more of savage-looking Indians armed with spears and clubs, bows and arrows. It all happened in a moment of time. Still dazed by the suddenness of the attack they were dragged to their feet and marched away into the forest, menaced fiercely by the spears of their captors. They could do nothing but submit.

In this manner they covered some five miles, as near as they could judge, straight into the heart of the forest before the party halted in an open s.p.a.ce on the bank of a narrow stream on which several canoes floated. A few primitive huts comprised the native village. Into one of these they were thrown, and a sentry was placed on guard at the entrance.

Inside, the light was so dim that they could see nothing distinctly, and Ginger was about to throw himself down to rest, for the long march through the oven-like atmosphere had reduced him to a state of exhaustion, when, to his utter amazement, a voice addressed him in English.

'Say, who are you?' inquired the voice, with a strong American drawl.

'Who on earth areyou?' gasped Ginger when he had recovered sufficiently from his surprise to speak.

Eddie Rockwell's the name,' came the reply.

'What the d.i.c.kens are you doing here?' demanded Algy. 'Guess that's what I should ask you.'

Algy thought for a moment or two. 'We're explorers,' he announced, somewhat vaguely. '

We've got a plane, but our chief has gone to the coast for petrol. While he was away this mob set on us and brought us here. That's all. What about you?'

'My tale is as near yours as makes no difference,' answered Eddie quietly.

As their eyes became accustomed to the gloom the comrades saw that he was a young man in the early twenties, but in a sad state of emaciation. His clothes were filthy, and hung on him in rags.

'Having more money than sense, I was fool enough to allow myself to be persuaded to start on a treasure-hunt,' continued Eddie. 'My father told me that the whole thing was a racket, and I reckon he was about right-but of course I wouldn't believe it.

A treasure-hunt?' queried Ginger.

I saw an advertis.e.m.e.nt in a paper that a couple of guys knew where a treasure was waiting to be picked up. The map they had looked genuine enough, and I fell for it. I financed the expedition, and everything was swell until we got here. Then my two crooked partners just beat it with the stores and left me stranded. If you've tried getting about in this cursed jungle, you'll know what I was up against. However, I did what I could. I blundered about till I struck a stream, and then started down it, figuring that sooner or later, if I could hold out, I'd come to the sea. Instead, I b.u.mped into a bunch of Indians and they brought me here. I didn't care much, because I was pretty well all in. I'd been staggering about without grub for a fortnight, and the Indians did at least give me something to eat. They brought me here, and here I've been ever since. That's all there is to it.'

An idea struck Ginger. He realised that these must be the three Americans about whom Carruthers was so concerned. 'You've been here for some time, haven't you?' he asked.

'Sure.'

'How long?'

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