Another Job For Biggles by W E Johns

Author:W E Johns [Johns, W E]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Adventure
Published: 2011-07-22T13:30:32+00:00

The moon was falling on him. The instinct of self-preservation awoke.

With an inarticulate cry he scrambled to his feet and reeling like a drunken man blundered blindly into the benighted desolation.

Chapter 9

Zahar Solves A Mystery

UNAWARE of Ginger’s desperate plight Biggles walked on, keeping close behind Zahar who automatically took the lead. They kept to the bottom of the wadi, which now became broad and shallow, rather than risk exposing themselves now that they were drawing near to their destination. The Sultan’s men, said Zahar, might be moving about, collecting fodder for their animals, or perhaps looking for one that had strayed.

The almost dry river bed was by no means easy going. It was strewn with boulders of all shapes and sizes, with occasional patches of acacia shrub, a bush that bristles with thorns.

Several times as they advanced Biggles passed his tongue over his lips, puzzled by a slight stickiness that formed on them. This had, moreover, a peculiar spicy taste, although not altogether unpleasant. Curiously enough, he did not connect this with the water he had tasted—not that there was any particular reason why he should. Even when, a little later, he experienced a momentary twinge of nausea, he put it down to an adulterant in the condensed meat paste, a tin of which he had opened from the store carried in the aircraft. He recalled that Ginger had eaten rather more of it, while Zahar had had none, such viands being forbidden by his religion. The implication was too obvious to be overlooked, and Ginger’s sudden attack was explained—or so he thought. Ginger, he was now convinced, was suffering from food poisoning, and as this can be a dangerous disorder he regretted that he had left him. Indeed, for a moment or two he contemplated going back, but having got so near the objective it seemed a pity to return without so much as a glance at the enemy camp. Rather worried, he walked on, wishing that he could move as silently as did Zahar over the loose stones.

The first sign that they were nearing their journey’s end came when, from no great distance ahead, there occurred that queer piercing sound, common enough in the desert, that a camel makes when it is grinding its teeth, thought to be a call to its companions. Zahar stopped at once, staring into the darkness; and as they stood there, listening, a donkey brayed.

“We have arrived at El Moab,” announced Zahar in a low voice. “What is your intention, Sahib? Remembering that we are now in the hands of Allah—may he be glorified.”

“My intention is to find out what happens here,” answered Biggles. “In particular, I would know if it was to this place that Hamud brought the seeds that were gathered in the Wadi al Arwat. If there is danger I will go on alone, so that should evil befall me you can go back and carry the tidings to my friends.”

“Wallah! Am I a jackal to be hiding in a wadi when there is men’s work to be done?” protested Zahar.

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