Biggles and the Missing Millionaire by W E Johns

Author:W E Johns [Johns, W E]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Adventure
Published: 2012-03-11T17:29:01+00:00

CHAPTER 9

TRAPPED

Biggles made his way to the camping ground with the caution for which the situation called, but also, knowing the men were away, with confidence. Like Ginger, he heard the Gadfly come and go without catching sight of it. That was in order and it did not worry him. It would come over again the next day.

He had nearly reached the camp, and had stopped to look at it before taking the last few steps, when he heard a distant shout. He took no notice of it, supposing it to be made by one of the hunters to scare the goats. As he was now on lower ground, where the vegetation was dense, he could not see them. The sound of shooting, he thought, would tell him when the hunt reached its climax. It was unlikely any of the men would return before that, so he went on to complete the reconnaissance.

What he saw when he reached the open ground was what he expected to see; the general litter of a well used camp; empty tins, bottles and the like. Blankets lay about where the men had been sleeping. Ignoring these things he went on to the sharply rising ground behind the camp, and there to his satisfaction he saw that he had been right about a cave. Actually, it was not so much a cave, in the generally accepted sense of the word, as a fissure, a flaw in the face of the rock, fairly high but narrow. Trampled ground round the entrance showed that it had been well used, possibly by goats before the men arrived.

He went in and saw that it ran some way back. Enough light came in through the entrance to show him all he needed to see, and, in fact, what he was more than half prepared to see.

The place was a store depot. Rifles were stacked along the wall. There were several sub-machine guns. Boxes of small arms ammunition and cases of hand grenades were piled beside cartons of canned food, mostly biscuits and ‘bully’ beef. The only thing that did surprise him was the quantity of stuff that had been stored. The purpose for which it was required would obviously be no casual skirmish. He picked up one of the rifles and found, as he expected, that it was one of the obsolete carbines he had been shown in Algiers. His expression was grim as he replaced it against the wall.

Flicking on his petrol lighter to serve as a torch he followed the cave to the end, a matter of perhaps twenty yards, where it dwindled to a mere crack. There was nothing there, so having seen all there was to see, he walked back towards the entrance, intending to return to Ginger forthwith.

He had nearly reached it when he was startled to hear the sound of hurrying footsteps on the rocks outside. This brought him to a halt. A man appeared outside, to stand with his back towards the cave as he stared down at the lagoon below.

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