14 Biggles Goes To War (14 page)

They made their way up the tottering steps until they stood on the remains of the first floor. Biggles looked through the ruins of what had once been a wall. Sitting in a circle round the building were thirty or forty grey wolves, panting, with lolling tongues.

Their breath rose up like a cloud of steam. 'Pretty lot of little fellows, aren't they?' He said to Ginger, who had joined him.

Ginger did not answer. He was drawing his pistol. 'What are you going to do?' asked Biggles.

`Have a crack at the mines,' replied Ginger vindictively.

'It will be time enough to do that when they start coming up the stairs,' Biggles told him bluntly. 'Save your ammunition. In any case, we don't want to tell the world where we are.'

'This is what comes of leaving good old England,' muttered Ginger morosely.

'Well, you said you were craving for some excitement. You're getting it, so I don't see what you've got to grumble about,' Biggles told him shortly, as he sat down to wait for the dawn.

Chapter 15

A Perilous Undertaking

Slowly the moon sank and the sky cleared. The weather turned milder as the wind swung to another quarter; presently it died away altogether, and the mournful silence that settled over the dismal scene was broken only by the drip, drip, drip of melting snow.

Presently Ginger spoke. 'The wolves are coming nearer,' he said, with a hint of alarm in his voice.

Biggles stood up. The wolves were still sitting on their haunches, but several of them had edged appreciably nearer.

'That is their usual way,' said the Count, who was watching. 'They are waiting for one, more daring than the rest, to make a rush.'

'Then we'd better do something to discourage them before they start anything like that,'

replied Biggles. 'I had hoped it would not be necessary to use our pistols in case the shots were heard, but we might as well be captured by the Lovitznians as chewed up by a mob of ravening wolves. Have a crack at them, Ginger.'

Ginger levelled his automatic, resting the muzzle on a charred beam; his finger tightened on the trigger and the weapon went off. For a second or two he was blinded by the flash, but when his sight adjusted itself again he saw that the wolves had all disappeared.

'Didn't I hit one?' he asked in a disappointed voice. 'No, but you made one jump,'

grinned Biggles.

`They'll come back when they get over their fright,' declared the Count.

`Then they'll have to buck up if they aim to get a meal before morning,' replied Biggles. '

It's beginning to get light - look!' He pointed to the east where a grey streak was creeping up over the tree-clad hills. 'Incidentally, a quick thaw seems to have set in,' he continued.

Ì'm afraid Algy won't know what to do for the best.'

Ìt will be no use him thinking of landing in that same field, even if the snow does melt,'

put in the Count quickly.

`Why not?'

`Can't you imagine what happens when a fall of snow like this starts melting? All that low country is inundated.'

`My gosh! I never thought of that,' muttered Biggles. Ànd what about the river?'

The water will pour off the hills, and there will be such a spate that nothing will be able to get across the river, perhaps for some days.'

Òne way or another we look like having a bonny time,' murmured Ginger disconsolately, casually throwing a piece of wood at the swiftly running stream.

'As soon as it gets properly light a hue and cry will start and we shall be chased up and down the country like escaped convicts,' growled Biggles. 'I suppose it is no use trying to swim across the river?'

Àbsolutely out of the question,' declared the Count. `Quite apart from the speed of the current, we should be frozen to death before we were half-way across.'

`Confound it! Surely there must be some way we can get across?'

Ginger suddenly grabbed Biggles's arm. `There is!' he cried triumphantly.

`What do you mean?'

`You saw me throw that piece of wood in the river just now?'

'Yes.'

'Well, it's gone ashore on the opposite bank at the next bend, where that piece of sand sticks out. The current swings round this corner, hits the bank here and shoots right across to the other side at the next bend. Look, you can see the piece of wood I threw lying on the bank. With some of these tree trunks tied together we could soon have a raft strong enough to float us over to the other side. All we need is some rope.'

`Good work, Ginger,' cried Biggles enthusiastically. let's see if we can find something that will do to tie the logs together. What about the barge? We might find something there. As it's light, I don't think we need worry about the wolves, but keep your gun handy in case of accidents.'

They all made their way down the steps, looking for anything that could possibly be used as a binding material. They found nothing in the mill itself, but on the deck of the barge Biggles pointed to an old tarpaulin. 'We could no doubt tear that into strips if we can find nothing else, although it would take a bit of tying. Or that,' he added, pointing to a length of chain. 'Rope would suit us better, of course.'

There was nothing else on the deck, but dragging open a mouldering locker in the bows Biggles gave a cry of delight, for lying in a mildewed heap were several odd lengths of rope. He picked up a piece, and made a grimace as, giving it a sharp jerk, it snapped like a piece of wet cotton.

'That won't hold much,' said the Count ruefully.

'If we handle it carefully it ought to be good enough to keep a few logs together for a few minutes,' replied Biggles.

`We'll thread the chain through the middle to take most of the strain.' So saying, he picked up an armful of the rope and hurried back to the pile of logs that lay nearest to the water's edge. They were, in fact, almost in the now rising water, ordinary fir trees of about six inches diameter, trimmed ready for transportation.

`Count, will you wind the rope round one end, while you, Ginger, tie the other end as I pass them down to you? Make an ordinary flat raft, keeping the logs as close together as you can. Ease them into the water as you go along, then we shall be able to test it until it will take our weight.'

It was a perfectly straightforward task, but one that demanded a certain amount of care on account of the rottenness of the ropes. For half an hour they worked feverishly, Biggles handing down the logs to the others, who then lashed them together at either end.

The sun came out and they actually perspired as they worked.

Ìt must be nearly wide enough,' announced Biggles at last, pausing to look at the result of their labours. `By James! We've no time to lose, either. Look at the river. It's risen a foot in the last half hour and it's travelling twice as fast as it was. Slip and get that length of chain, Ginger; we'll use it as a main bracing. We might have the tarpaulin, too, to throw over the top. What the—!' He broke off and swung round, staring up the river bank. 'I thought I heard somebody shout,' he said breathlessly.

`So did I,' said Ginger tersely. He ran into the mill and sped up the steps to take advantage of the elevation they provided. One look and he was down again, almost falling in his haste. 'Launch her, launch her!' he gasped.

`What is it?'

`Soldiers. Soldiers and bloodhounds. They're following our trail. They are only just round the corner and they're coming at a run.'

Biggles wasted no more time in conversation. Taking one end of that part of the raft which still remained ashore, he dragged it towards the water, while the Count did the same thing on the other side. Ginger got behind and pushed, as much to take the strain off the ropes as for any other reason. In a moment the crude raft was floating on the stream, but under their combined weight it sagged frighteningly. Water surged up between the logs and over the outside edges.

`Lie flat, everybody,' ordered Biggles. 'We shall spread our weight that way.' So saying, he pushed the raft clear. Instantly the powerful current took it in its grip and it swung, turning round slowly, out into the stream.

They were less than halfway over, all watching the bend round which their pursuers would appear, when a hound, baying furiously, bounded round the corner. A moment later a soldier appeared, then another, and a shout told those on the raft that they had been seen.

`Heads down, everybody,' ordered Biggles quietly. 'They'll start shooting in a minute. We needn't get worried if they do; I've yet to meet a man who can fire a rifle with any sort of accuracy after he has been running.'

Hardly were the words past his lips when a rifle crashed and a line of spray zipped across the surface of the water about a yard from the raft. Biggles pulled out his pistol and returned the fire, more to upset the marksman's aim than from any real hope of hitting him. Bang! Bang! Bang! roared the weapon, and the several Lovitznians who had now appeared dived into the wood for cover. 'How far are we from the bank, Ginger?' he asked, with his eyes on the place where the Lovitznians had disappeared.

`Twenty yards.'

`Shall we go ashore on that spit of sand?'

Ì think so.'

`Then jump for it everybody, as soon as we touch, and make a dash for cover. Swerve as you run and throw yourselves flat as soon as you are among the trees.'

An instant later there was a jar as the swiftly drifting raft struck the bank, and a violent lurch as somebody jumped ashore. Biggles could not see who it was. There was a ragged volley from the opposite bank and several bullets flicked up the water perilously near the raft. Bang! Bang! roared Biggles's weapon again as he fired at the flashes. Another lurch told him that the second passenger had jumped ashore and that he was now alone on the raft, so, after emptying his pistol at the enemy's position, he leapt ashore and darted, zigzagging as he ran, towards the trees. A bullet kicked up the sand near his feet; another whistled past his head and tore a long white splinter from the side of a tree, but he reached his objective untouched, and, flinging himself flat, wormed his way into the undergrowth. 'Are you all right?' he called anxiously.

Both Ginger and the Count answered him in the affirmative, and he relaxed with relief. '

Start working your way into the thickest of the trees, but take care not to show yourselves,' he ordered, and after allowing them to get a short start, he followed. There was plenty of cover, so the move was not really dangerous, and when, presently, he came to a fold in the hillside, he found the others sitting on a boulder, waiting for him.

'We were just about in time, weren't we?' He smiled at the Count, who seemed not in the least perturbed by the hardships and dangers he had undergone.

The Count nodded cheerfully. 'We're still in Lovitzna, though, don't forget,' he said warningly.

`How far are we from the frontier?'

`Not more than two miles, I think.'

`Good! Then if it's all the same to you, we'll push on. The sooner we are out of this country and into our own, the sooner shall I breathe freely. The terrain is flat on the other side of these hills, if I remember rightly, isn't it?'

`Yes, the ground falls away quickly to the central plain.'

`Then if we can get there, there is a chance that Algy may spot us and pick us up,' said Biggles thoughtfully. 'I expect he will be in the air by this time, looking for us -that is, if he got back all right,' he added a trifle anxiously.

It was a steep pull up the hill and it took them nearly an hour to reach the top. The river was somewhere below them but they could not see it owing to the trees, nor could they hear any sounds of pursuit. A few minutes' rest to regain their breath and they started off again, now travelling downhill. Another twenty minutes brought them to the frontier, an ordinary barbed-wire fence, but no one was in sight. If there was a frontier patrol they did not see it, so they lost no time in climbing over the fence into their own country.

`That's better,' announced Biggles, as they set off again, plunging down the tree-clad slopes towards the open plain.

They had not been going very long when the sound of an aircraft was borne to their ears.

`That's Algy!' cried Ginger delightedly.

Biggles shook his head as his practised ear took in the note of the engines, now rapidly drawing nearer. 'You're wrong,' he said. 'Look!' He pointed up through the treetops as a formation of scouts raced low overhead. They carried the brown crosses of Lovitzna, and on the leader's wing-struts were small triangular pennants. 'Looking for us, I'll be bound,' he added. 'Well, they'll be clever if they spot us among these trees.'

'What about when we get in the open?' asked Ginger.

'Let's wait until we get there,' returned Biggles evenly.

They saw the enemy machines several times as they went on down the slope. There was no doubt as to their object, but, as Biggles had said, there was little reason to fear that they would be seen, and even if they were it was difficult to know what the aircraft could do, for the hillside was certainly no place for a landing.

'The only thing that worries me is that Algy might come beetling over looking for us and run into this tribe of cut-throats,' murmured Biggles, nodding towards the Lovitznian formation which could just be seen in the distance.

'I was thinking the same thing,' answered Ginger moodily, as they hurried on down the steep incline.

After that little more was said. It took them the best part of an hour to reach the open country beyond the foothills; in fact, during that time only one observation was made, and that was when a machine, obviously a two-seater, sailed over at a tremendous height.

'It looks as if they're bringing out their entire air force to look for us,' remarked Biggles, as he glanced upwards.

'I think I can see a farm-house over there,' put in the Count. 'We might make our way towards it in the hope of begging something to eat and a cup of tea or coffee. They will hardly refuse us that when they learn who we are.'

'That sounds a sensible idea to me,' agreed Biggles warmly.

Increasing their pace, they set off towards the homestead, pushing their way through a hedge and cutting across a wide field as the shortest way. Thus it came about that they were right in the open and a good hundred yards from the nearest cover when the patrol leader of the enemy