by W E Johns
As he had prophesied, the pilot of the air liner saw it almost at once, and, throttling back his engines, dived steeply in their direction. The stranded airmen ran out into the open and waved caps, coats, and anything they could lay hands on.
'Ghr-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r—' roared the big plane as it swept low over them, and they could see curious faces staring down from the cabin windows.
'All right, stand fast,' called Biggles; 'he's seen us. I don't know what he'll do, though-he's not likely to try and land here. Hullo, here he comes again.'
Once more the Junkers roared past them, at little more than stalling speed this time, and, as it passed, an arm emerged and a white object fell like a stone. The plane circled in a steep bank, dipped its wings, and then headed westward.
'What is it?' asked Dickpa of Algy, who had retrieved the message, for they had no doubt as to the nature of the object that had been thrown down to them.
Algy snorted. 'You'd better read it, I can't,' he said, passing a small piece of paper which had been enclosed in a cigarette-case rolled up in a handkerchief.
'Descanso,' read Dickpa. 'That means "rest"-they mean we are to wait where we are, I suppose. It looks as if they are going to send assistance.'
'In that case I'll finish my breakfast,' observed Biggles.
They had less time to wait than they expected, for in rather less than two hours a party of men dressed in the blue overalls of mechanics appeared from a ravine in the hills to the west and hurried towards them, shouting, as they came, in a language which Dickpa told the others was Spanish, and to which he replied readily as they arrived on the scene.
The newcomers talked volubly as they examined the wrecked Condor with the greatest interest, shaking their heads and gesticulating wildly. Biggles, unable to understand a word of what was being said, sat on a rock and watched the performance with bored impatience.
'Hi, what is it all about, Dickpa,' he called at length. 'Don't keep all the news to yourself.'
'We were luckier than we knew,' Dickpa told him. 'We have crashed quite close to Cochabamba, right on the direct air route between Santa Cruz and Cochabamba. In fact, they say we actually flew right over Santa Cruz aerodrome yesterday afternoon and they sent a machine up to see who the dickens it was.'
'That must have been the machine I saw,' declared Biggles.
'It was. The pilot saw you disappear into the fog and thought that was the end of you. He went back to Santa Cruz then-or, rather, they called him back by directional wireless. He had to fly some passengers and mails to Cochabamba this morning, so he kept a lookout for us, and, as you know, he spotted us. He reported our position by wireless to Cochabamba, and the traffic manager sent out this party to see what could be done.'
'Then we shall have to walk to Cockadoodle, or whatever you call the place?' said Biggles.
'Cochabamba.'
'That's it. We'll make loads of the most important stuff, but I suppose we shall have to leave the rest behind. I'm taking my gold tomahawk, anyway. What about the machine?'
'I've spoken to them about that. The chief mechanic says they can dismantle it and take it back in pieces to their workshops, where he thinks it could be repaired. Alternatively, they'll ship the pieces back to England if we want them to.'
'I would suggest leaving it for them to repair,' returned Biggles, thinking deeply. 'If they can put her in order again and can find room for her in a hangar, well, she would be on the spot ready for us if we came back at any time. If we didn't, then you could probably sell her; she's bound to be worth something, as there is nothing wrong with the engine.'
'Come back again, did you say?' cried Dickpa. 'Haven't you had enough thrills yet?'
Biggles grinned sheepishly. 'Enough for a bit,' he confessed, 'but it just struck me that if we got bored at any time we might fly back and see if the eruption left anything of Ata—'
'Shh!' warned Dickpa. 'One of them might understand English and I haven't told them the real object of our quest, naturally. We had better forget about that for the time being. All right, then I'll tell them to take the pieces to Cochabamba as soon as they can. They are going back now to report, so we had better go with them, and then we'll go on to La Paz. We might as well fly-that will be the quickest way-but I shall have to charter a special machine, because there isn't a regular service. It isn't far-about a hundred and thirty miles or so, I believe. We'll make up loads of all the stuff we want to take; these fellows have nothing to carry, so they'll help us.'
The baggage was quickly collected from the cabin of the wrecked machine, the gold ornaments which represented the fruits of the expedition being kept together in a special bag, which was entrusted to Smyth. As they examined these, they found them to be more numerous than they thought, and Dickpa pronounced himself to be more than satisfied with the result. In addition to Biggles's tomahawk, with its huge emerald, which alone was worth an enormous sum, there was an exquisitely carved peacock with jewelled eyes, and a condor, both of which were of fine gold and weighed several pounds. Algy and Smyth had put a few ornaments in their haversacks before leaving the treasure-chamber, and these included, on Algy's part, two small gold llamas, a priest holding a rod with a good-sized ruby in the end, a sheaf of corn, and three other small gold ornaments of no particular form but of beautiful workmanship.
Smyth's bag revealed a pair of long, jewelled earrings, an effigy of a warrior with sword raised, a chain, or necklace of gold filigree work, with pearls, five small animals and birds, and a fine goblet. The latter had been badly dented in the crash, but not beyond a good goldsmith's ability to repair.
As Dickpa pointed out as they trudged along behind the Bolivians, he was not really very interested in the intrinsic value of what they had found. Each piece was of untold wealth from a historical point of view, and the quipus he had taken alone compensated him for the trouble and expense of the quest. Indeed, he declared himself ready to make another trip at any time for even less results.
A walk of two hours brought them to the aerodrome of Cochabamba, where, after giving an account of their adventure, or as much of it as they deemed wise, and making final arrangements for the salvage and storing of the Condor, they embarked in a specially chartered machine for La Paz, the capital of Bolivia. Through the cabin windows they saw, not without a tinge of regret, the passing of the forest in which they had had so many stirring adventures.
A few formalities had to be arranged with the authorities, and here Dickpa's knowledge and experience of the country stood them in good stead. A mining concession was taken out in respect of the vein of silver they had discovered and the matter left in the hands of a reliable agent until such time as the quality of the ore could be determined.
A week later they sailed from the port of Mollendo, homeward bound, and as they leaned against the rail watching the towering peaks of the Andes drop astern, a queer smile spread over Dickpa's face.
'Well, boys,' he said slowly, 'what do you think of South America now?'
'As a cure for boredom it should take first prize, and I've a feeling in my bones that I shall see it again,' observed Biggles quietly.
'Me too,' declared Algy.
'Then you'll need a mechanic, sir,' murmured Smyth softly.