Part 9 (2/2)

To his right, perhaps a hundred yards away, sat the sentry at the head of the stairway.

With this man he was not particularly concerned-at any rate, for the time being.

Immediately in front, and slightly below, lay the ruined village. Here a gang of men was working with picks and shovels, or carrying away baskets of earth. Altogether, there were about forty workmen, and Biggles had no difficulty in picking out Algy, Ginger and the stranger. They were working close together. Watching the gang were six guards, standing in pairs. They carried rifles. Another man, an enormous Indian, walked amongst the labourers swis.h.i.+ng a vicious-looking whip. Not far away, in the shade of a ruined house, squatted the Tiger and his two white companions. Close behind them stood two natives in tawdry uniforms; they also carried rifles, and were evidently a sort of bodyguard. Beyond, s.h.i.+mmering in the heat of the morning sun, the plateau lay deserted.

For some time Biggles lay still, surveying the scene thought..

fully. A big patch of grotesque p.r.i.c.kly pear attracted his attention, and he saw that if he moved along a little to the left he could use this as a screen to cover an advance into the village. Once among the houses, it should, he thought, be possible to get right up to the gang of workmen, and so make contact with Algy and Ginger-which was his main object. Beyond that he had no definite plan.

Like a scouting Indian he backed down from his elevated position and began working his way towards the p.r.i.c.kly pear.

I2.

GINGER GETS SOME SHOCKS.

WHEN Algy, Ginger and Eddie had been marched off through the forest by Bogat they did not know where they were being taken, but, naturally, they could make a good guess.

Unless Bogat had some scheme of his own, it seemed probable that they would be taken to the Tiger. This suspicion was practically confirmed when they reached the foot of the stairway. Two hours later, utterly worn out, and in considerable discomfort from insect bites and scratches, they were standing before the King of the Forest, who eyed them with undisguised satisfaction.

In his heart, Ginger expected nothing less than a death sentence, but that was because he did not realise the value of labour in the tropics, particularly white labour, which is always better than native work. It was, therefore, with relief that the received the news that they were to be put in the slave-gang. Algy, being older, perceived that this was, in fact, little better than a death sentence; that without proper food, clothes and medical treatment, they were unlikely to survive long in a climate which sapped the vitality even of the natives. However, he agreed with Ginger's optimistic observation that while they were alive there was hope; for, after all, Biggles was still at large. Whether or not he would ever learn what had happened to them was another matter. They were not to know that Dusky had been a witness of the attack.

They were in evil case by the time they reached the plateau, for they had been given only a little maize bread and water, barely enough to support life. The stench of the stone building, little better than a cattle-pen, into which on arrival they were herded with the other slaves, all Indians or half-castes, nearly made Ginger sick. Life under such conditions would, he thought, soon become intolerable.

Tired as they were, sleep was out of the question, and they squatted miserably in a corner, waiting for daylight. At dawn the door was opened by a man who carried a heavy whip; behind him were six other men carrying rifles. A quant.i.ty of food, in the nature of swill, was poured into a trough; upon this the slaves threw themselves like animals, eating ravenously with their hands, scooping up the foul mixture in cupped palms. The three white men took no part in this performance.

A few minutes only were allowed for this meal, after which the gang was formed into line and made to march past a shed from which picks and shovels were issued. Thus equipped, they went to what had once been the main street of the village, where a shallow trench had been opened. The gang-boss cracked his whip and the slaves started work, deepening and extending the trench.

'What do you suppose we're doing?' asked Ginger, getting into the trench behind Algy.

'Probably laying the telephone,' returned Algy sarcastically. 'Ha, ha,' sneered Ginger. '

Very funny.'

The gang-boss advanced, brandis.h.i.+ng his whip. 'No talking,' he snarled.

Ginger drove his pick viciously into the sun-baked earth, and thereafter for a while work proceeded in silence.

'Here comes the Tiger,' murmured Algy presently.

I'll tear the stripes off his hide one day,' grated Eddie. 'They can't do this to me.'

It seems as though they're doing it,' grunted Algy.

Ginger went on working. There was no alternative, for he had no wish to feel the whip across his shoulders.

A few minutes later, standing up to wipe the, perspiration out of his eyes, he noticed something. It was nothing spectacular. He had already realised, from the nature of the ground, which consisted largely of broken paving-stones, that the trench was crossing the foundations of what must have been a large building. One or two of the supporting columns, although they had been broken off short, were still standing; one such column was only a few paces away on his right, and without any particular interest his eyes came to rest on it. They were at once attracted to a mark-or rather, two marks. At first he gazed at them without conscious thought; then, suddenly, his eyes cleared as he made out that the marks were initials.

There were two sets, one above the other. The lower ones had almost been obliterated by the hand of time, after the manner of an old tombstone, but it was still possible to read the incised scratches. They were the letters E.C., and were followed by the date, 186o.

There was no need for him to look closely at the date of the initials above to see that they were comparatively recent. The letters were L.R., and the date 1937. A suspicion, dim as yet, darted into Ginger's mind. He threw a quick glance at the gang-boss to make sure that he was not being watched, and then leaned forward to confirm that his reading of the lower initials had been correct. In doing this he put his hands on the end of a stone slab in such a way that his weight fell on it. Instantly it began to turn as though on a pivot, and he flung himself back with a gasp of fear, for he had a nasty sensation that he had nearly fallen into an old well. Another quick glance revealed the gang-boss walking towards him, so he went to work with a will, aware that he was slightly breathless.

The lash swished through the air, but without actually touching him. It was a warning, and he took it-at least, while the boss was within hearing. Then he spoke to Algy, who was working just in front of him.

Algy,' he whispered, 'you remember Biggles talking about a treasure supposed to have been discovered in these parts by a fellow named Carmichael?'

'Yes.'

'What was his Christian name, do you remember?'

'No-why?'

'Do you remember the date?'

Yes-1860.'

”Then this is where Carmichael came. I've just seen his mark. Go on working-don't look round.'

Ginger now spoke under his arm to Eddie, who was behind him.

Eddie, you said you came here on a treasure-hunt?' 'Sure I did.'

'There was a map, I believe?'

'That's right.'

'Who drew it?'

A guy named Roberts-Len Roberts.'

And was there a date?'

'Sure. It was 1937. What's the idea? Do you reckon we're on a treasure-hunt now?'

I'm certain of it,' replied Ginger. 'You see that paper the Tiger is looking at? Does that look like your map?'

It sure does.'

'Then it's the treasure we're after. We're driving a trench right across the area where it is supposed to be.'

At this point, much to Ginger's disgust, further conversation was interrupted by an Indian, who dropped into the trench between him and Eddie.

'Here, you, get out of the way,' grunted Ginger, hoping that the man would understand what he meant.

'Go on digging,' answered a voice quietly.

Ginger started violently, and nearly dropped his pick. His nerves seemed to twitch, for there was no mistaking the voice. It was Biggles.

<script>