by A S Neill
"You planted them lettuces on us", roared Steve, and both of them hammered me with their fists.
"Be yer age", I said between blows; "I ain't no conjurer. Where could I get Central Bank notes? I ain't been to Pirrolo's private office."
"The boss ain't got none", said Alf.
"OK big boy", ses I; "yuh's a flash guy and yuh knows", but I saw a quick look pass between them.
"The boss wouldn't do it", said Steve, but there was doubt in his tone. At that moment Pirrolo entered. His face angered.
"Wot's this mean?" he demanded. "Didn't I tell yuh to give this heel the woiks? Why ain't he unconscious?"
Steve turned on him.
"This ain't no kindergarten", he said sullenly. "We ain't G-Men specialists in beating up; we're gunmen."
Pirrolo gripped him by the back of the neck. "I'm the big shot here", he said, "and wot I ses goes", and he gave Steve a violent push through the door. Alf followed him quickly and Pirrolo turned his attention to me.
"In a few minutes I am going to drop you over the side", he said. "Got wot that means?"
"Yes", I said shortly, "it means death, because, not being a stool pigeon, I can't very well fly."
I knew it was a mad thing to say, but it came out before I could think. He flew at me like a maniac and battered me until I knew no more. I awoke to the sensation of something touching my bound hands.
"Not a word", I heard Betty whisper in my ear.
She cut my bonds in the darkness, and she slid something into my hand. I knew it to be an automatic.
"Why haven't they dropped me overboard?" I whispered.
"Don't know", she replied, "but Spike had a show-down with Alf and Steve, and one of them was killed, don't know which, but I saw a body falling over the side."
"Good", I said, "now there are three, and, if it wasn't Spike that went over, I guess he'll be on my side. Now for action", and I crept to the door. I was just about to put my hand on the handle when the door opened, and Steve entered.
"Raise them dukes", ses I easy like, and I pushed my rod into his stomach. He raised 'em up all right. "Yuh and me's got a little account to settle, Steve", ses I. "Back there on that berg there was a little dispute about quickness on the draw, and yuh said that shootin' watches didn't prove nothing."
"It didn't", said Steve.
"Because I agree with yuh", ses I, "yuh and me's goin' a shoot it out now", and I took his gun from his holster and placed it on the table. At the other side I laid down my own gun. I stuck up my hands and said: "When the jane says go, one of us is got it coming to him. Got me, Steve?"
"Aw gotjer", nodded Steve.
Without turning my head I told Betty to give the word... and, well, I beat him to it and the hole through his heart was a wow.
"That leaves two", I said with content. "Now where's Pirrolo?"
I found Pirrolo in the steering cabin. Spike stood outside with a gat in his hand.
"Elevate 'em, Spike", ses I, but Spike only grinned.
"I ain't guarding the double-crosser", ses he; "I'm waiting for him to come out."
"Spike", ses I, "you're a good chiselling bum of a pal to have, but this is my funeral, and Pirrolo is mine."
Spike shrugged his shoulders.
"As you say, hombre", he smiled, and moved away from the door.
"Hoy, you, stool pigeon", I shouted through the door, "come out and take the rap."
"We'll all take the rap together", cried Pirrolo, and suddenly he dived the airship. We were thrown to the floor, but I got up like lightning and put my shoulder to the door. It gave, and a bullet grazed my shoulder. I saw Pirrolo's face leering, saw his gun spit death, but in a diving airship his hand was not so steady as mine. I planted two beauties right between his eyes (David later covered them with the ace of spades), and seizing the wheel I got the ship level just before it was to crash into the brewery.
That was Robert's story, and the story will be continued next week.
TO BE CONTINUED…
— Discussion Of Chapter 6
Having given Robert so central a position in the story I knew that criticism would be hot.
"Not much of a story", said Bunny aggressively. "All that bit about the gangsters was just a crib from the Ed Jenkins yarns, for Ed always gets one gangster to kill another for doublecrossing him."
"Ed never carries a gat", said I.
"But Race Williams does", said Gordon. "It was a crib from Race Williams."
"I don't think so", said Robert.
"'Cos you got it all to do", said Jean. "It wasn't fair for you to be the hero and Betty the heroine all the time."
"I wasn't a heroine", grumbled Betty. "Making me say I loved Pirrolo."
"That", I explained hastily, "was your cleverness. You had to think quickly how to stay and help Robert."
"Could of done without her help", growled Robert.
"I didn't mind Robert getting it all to do", said Michael, "but there were too many mistakes in it for it to be a good story."
"Yes?" I said.
"Well, when Robert said that about the stool pigeon you said that Pirrolo took a chair and smashed the electric light. How could there be electric light when there was no mains power on?"
"Ah!" I said, "didn't I mention that, being in the suburbs, Pyecraft had his own generating plant?"
"All right then", said Michael, "we'll let you off with that one, but laugh this one off... how could his gang pass the house in curtained cars, taking statues for a ride, when you said yourself that the streets were blocked by wrecked cars?"
This required some thought.
"That", said I, "brings in the time factor. London certainly was full of wrecked cars because it was eleven o'clock in the morning when the cloud came. America is in the west, gets the sun later, six hours later, hence it was five in the morning and very little traffic on the streets."
"You wriggle out of everything", said Michael with disgust.
"I think it was silly", said Jean. "How did Steve and Alf come to have banknotes in their pockets?"
"I fancy", said I, "that Robert could explain that", and I looked over at him.
He thought for a little, then a light dawned in his eyes.
"Got it!" he cried. "I put them in their pockets that time they were shoving me from the room when I went over the street."
"Where did you get them?" asked Jean sharply.
"I dunno", said Robert. "Where did I get them from, Neill?"
"That", I said, "would be a long story, but briefly it was so. You knew that the best way to fight the gang would be to make them suspicious of each other, and knowing they had fled because of the Central Bank hold up, you went secretly to the bank on your way to the brewery."
"That wasn't clear in the story", said David critically.
"Good heavens!" I cried, "can't you leave something to the imagination? Next time I see I'll have to tell you a story like this... It was summer and the grass was green. The trees had leaves on. Pyecraft gazed at a house which is a place people, and he said with his mouth... and so on."
"Getting annoyed because you know it was a rotten story", said Gordon, "and the rottenest thing in it was the language of the gangsters."
"Say, lissen, waffler", I said, "I'll put you wise why I've got yer goat when Robert hijacked the dough and stashed the rib, you stir-bird hadn't an out, so you lammed, and when Robert chiselled in - "
"You don't know what 'chisel in' means", said Gordon.
I arose with dignity and walked out of the room, but I must really ask some American what exactly 'chisel in' does mean.
Chapter 7
It was decided to return to Summerhill. At first Spike did not want to go with them, but when David gave him a picture of his future life Spike began to get uneasy.
Said David: "Say, lissen, Spike. Yuh got nerve, but nerve ain't gonna be much use ter yuh walking around in this 'ere burg among a crowd of stone deaders. They're gonna get on yur raw: yuh're gonna get jumpy, and yuh'll be alw
ays drawing on every tombstone yuh sees. No one to speak ter, to have a wet with, to take for a ride... Spike, yu're gonna be dull in Chicago."
Spike began to waver.
"Only stone broads in Chicago", said Gordon.
Spike looked at the broads, especially Betty.
"Guess you're right, pals", he said. "Me for the pond crossing."
And so they brought Spike to England. They found him a most likeable fellow. They pumped him about his past life.
"How did you become a gunman?" asked Betty, who was beginning to get a little too fond of him.
Spike grinned.
"Gee", he said, "I dunno. I was a cowboy in Texas and one night at poker... I see the game was phoney and I knew that One-Eye Joe was monkeying the spot cards, but 'course I couldn't prove it, so I leans back in my chair and ses I: 'There's somebody doing the lowdown with the pasteboards", ses I. 'I don't wanna mention names, but if he don't cheese it I'll put out his other eye.'" He sighed. "Well, I was quicker on the draw than Joe, and that's why I had the sheriff's posse after me, and that's why I came to Chicago. I had to give a couple of dicks the woiks, and then somehow Pirrolo came along."
"What were your duties when Pirrolo took you on his staff?" asked Neill.
"Just shootin' ", said Spike.
"Enemies?" asked Neill.
Spike laughed.
"Naw", he said, "why, I often had to bump off my pals. Business came first. Pirrolo wanted to put Bill Johnson on the spot, ses to me it was a ten bucks' job. Ses I: 'Bill's a pal o' mine.' 'In that case', says the boss, 'twenty bucks', and I plugged Bill with a sawn-off shotgun."
"You shot a friend for twenty dollars!" exclaimed Jean aghast.
"Should ha' stuck out for forty", said Spike regretfully.
"But had you no feelings about killing a man?" asked Jean.
"Guess I was soft", he said with a little shame in his face, "for I spent ten bucks on flowers. We gave Bill a ten-grand funeral. I'll say this for Pirrolo that he gave his stiffs the best funerals in Chicago."
Neill and the girls thought that his philosophy was awful, but the boys thought it fine.
"Nice of him to send a wreath to Bill's funeral", said Bunny. "Just shows you that there is a good side to everybody."
Summerhill was more dilapidated than ever. Chad's golf stance had tilted a little in the west wind, and his clothes were now rags. Betty and Jean spent a morning redressing him in highland costume, although Neill said that a kilt was the wrong thing to wear playing golf. The result of the dressing gave Spike much amusement; he kept coming to it and laughing.
"Chap with goat whiskers and a jane's skirts seems funny to me", he said.
The hockey-field was beginning to look like a small forest, and the food question was becoming serious. Potatoes and vegetables were now growing wild, but the competition of the grass and weeds was telling, and the wild vegetables were puny things. Neill said that they must now begin to cultivate their own food, and they got tractors from farms and ploughed the garden. Spike became the butcher and killed and dressed sheep and cattle, but the difficulty in finding these was now great, for the Zoo population had multiplied, and the leopards, tigers, and lions roamed the countryside. All that remained of the Scottish horses were a few stray-bones in the hockey-field.
It was not safe to walk down town even by day, for tigers had made their lair in Garrod's Garage, and Titlow's shop nested a litter of lion cubs. Then one windy night the airship broke from its moorings, and in the morning they saw it drifting towards Ipswich.
"That", said David, "puts the lid on it. We are prisoners here now till we die."
As he was speaking the radio began to be active. They heard Fritz speaking, and his voice was one of terror.
"The wolves have broken through the trench and live wire, and I am in the church tower without any food for four days. Help me."
They looked at each other in despair.
"He'll have to die", said Pyecraft.
"And we'll have to die too", said Neill, "now that the airship has gone."
"There are lots of fast bombers at Martlesham", said Michael.
"Where's that?" asked Spike.
"Army aerodrome between here and Ipswich, fifteen miles away."
"We could walk that", suggested Evelyn.
"Through tigers and wolves and lions?" asked Neill.
"I know", said Gordon suddenly. "The Leiston train is still in the station, and the line is clear as far as Sax."
"Yes", said David, "but remember that the Yarmouth train is wrecked at Wickham Market."
"I know", said Gordon, "but I saw a crane wagon at Sax. last time we were there. We might be able to clear the wreckage."
"Take us a year", said Neill without enthusiasm.
"All the same", said Robert, "it's worth trying. Come on, lads, buckle on your guns and we'll go and get up steam."
The engine looked more like a hedge than an engine. Moss had grown on the engine driver's face; crows had made their nest in the funnel; grass was twining its way through the spokes. Rust was over all, and it was decided to clean and oil it first. This took many hours, but in the end the engine looked as if it were ready for a show. The next work was to empty the compartments, and they piled the stone passengers on the platform. Then they filled the boiler and lit the fire. Unfortunately Betty had tied the station-master to the safety valve... "Looks better to have a railway official with us", she explained. The first that Neill and Pyecraft knew of the explosion was when David came through the roof of the school.
"Hullo", said Neill.
"Hullo", said David, with great presence of mind. "I just blew in."
It took them some time to get Michael down from the top of Garrett's chimney, and then he wanted to climb up again for his trousers, which were pronged by the lightning conductor.
The engine, luckily, had scattered so much that there was very little debris to clear away, and they got out the donkey engine from Garrett's Works and coupled it up to the train. Then they set off, Gordon driving, Robert stoking, and the other children with Spike in the first-class compartments. Betty had insisted on their having tickets, and because Jean had a third-class one, she was bundled out and into a third. Neill said he would stay and work the signals, and Pyecraft said that unless they had a sleeper he wouldn't go.
Gordon had no idea of how to drive an engine, and, of course, the first lever he pulled sent the train backwards into the level crossing gates. However, by pulling every lever he could see, he finally got the train to move forward, and they pull-puffed their way along the line. It was a jerky journey because Gordon would not give up his fixed idea that the engine had a three-speed gear with reverse. He kept looking for the clutch. They did the four miles to Sax in two hours, and when they got there Gordon had forgotten where the brake was, but a convenient cattletruck brought his train to a standstill. At Sax they found an express engine, and, having got steam up, they began to shunt so that they could couple on the crane wagon. Well, that is to say, they began to try to move the points, but this was beyond them.
"Give me a screwdriver and a spanner", said Driver Gordon, "and I'll fix everything so's it will move the points."
He spent some time in the signal box, and Bunny looked at the jumble of levers and wires and asked if Gordon thought it necessary to do the same to every signal box all the way to Woodbridge, because if he did he Bunny, would be too old to fly an aeroplane when they got there. Meanwhile Spike had set the points by hitting them with a sledgehammer, and Gordon was dragged from what had once been a signal box, but was now a scrap-iron store, and they set off south. They came to the wreck of the express at Wickham Market, and then found that they had hitched the breakdown wagon to the end of the train, so they had to go back to Sax and put it in front of the engine. Then when they reached the wreck again they found that they had forgotten the handle for winding the crane, and back they had to go again to Sax.
"Now", said Michael, "now I know why they call it the permanen
t way."
They set to work. At first they despaired of ever clearing the line, but Spike took the lead and by nightfall they had done half the work. They slept in the train all night, and breakfasted on what they could rescue from the express dining-car, tinned food of course. They finished the clearing at noon next day, and then discovered that the rails were twisted. Bunny tried to straighten them with a cycle spanner but failed. There was nothing for it but to take a few lengths from the down line, and here the crane was necessary.
Towards dusk they set off south, and at Melton found a goods train standing in their way.
"Back a bit", said Robert, "and knock it hard", and Gordon did this and broke the buffers and his nose. There was nothing for it but to shove the goods in front of them, and so they reached Woodbridge. They went on to the bridge over the main road, and then they had a short walk up the hill to the aerodrome. The bombers were all under cover, and they showed few signs of weathering or decay.
"Oh, we are a lot of fools", suddenly cried Bunny.
"How?", asked David.
"Taking all this trouble to get here, and none of us can fly an aeroplane."
"I thought about that before we came", said Betty, "but I didn't like to say it."
"Ah, well", said Robert, "there's no harm in having a look at the blame things", and they commenced to inspect them. They shoved one outside, one of the very latest, and they filled its tanks with petrol.
"Just try her out, Gordon", said Robert casually, and Gordon looked the other way.
"I "If he can do it we can do it", said Michael, and each of them got a plane out, and one by one they taxied away and rose. The boys began to vie with each other, and soon they were looping the loop and nose-diving, but for the most part unintentionally. Bunny signalled, and they got into battle formation and headed for Leiston. Each made a fine landing on the hockey-field, and, led by Bunny, they rushed into the house and announced that they were ready to set off to the rescue of Fritz. “We should cast lots", said Evelyn, "to see who tries first."
This was agreed to, and each with shaky hand took a straw from Spike's hand. Bunny's straw was the shortest, and sweat broke out on his brow. He went round shaking hands (in both senses) with the others, and left instructions as to what should be done with his belongings. Then bravely he climbed into the cockpit.