Air Stories — page 46: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

AIR STORIES ‘‘You’re quite useless, and I intend to report you ! Now get along to the office at once.’’ Meek found the rest of the Squadron pilots gathered there, and soon the Squadron Leader was outlining their job. ‘‘There is some _ insubordination among the natives of Upper Towonga,’’ he said, ‘‘ but as this is a mountainous and wild country, it is unlikely we can take any useful action except to make a show of strength by flying over. There is to be no attack of any sort, as this would only aggravate the situation. As there is no possible landing-ground in the whole country, any pilot who is doubtful of his engine will give the usual signal and return at once to the ship. Otherwise, formation will not be broken on any account. Now we will take-off in the usual order.”’ CHAPTER IV The Secret of Kalunda HILE the squadron of Ospreys were taking-off from the ‘‘ Up- roarious ’’ several hundred miles away, Judy Grant was lying bound and gagged beneath the rocky crest of Kalunda. She had long since ceased to struggle, for her body was bruised and battered and ropes cut into her wrists. Her father lay a few feet away, and beyond him were Sergeant Umtata and two more native police, all similarly bound and gagged. The hours of darkness had been a nightmare of horror for the girl, though they had been mercifully relieved by periods of unconsciousness. But now the sun had risen above the low trees which skirted the mountain at this point, and as its first fierce rays fell on their recumbent bodies, the victims were untied and their gags removed. Judy was dragged roughly to her feet. She looked at her father and tried to smile. His eyes met hers in a glance that was eloquent of encouragement; his lips formed words to which a parched tongue could not give utterance. Then they were roughly hustled away up the mountain. Judy prayed that whatever their fate was to be it would come quickly, for the sufferings she had already undergone were almost more than she could stand, and she did not want to break down and so add to her father’s misery. They had climbed but a little way up the mountain when they came out into the open and found themselves on a smooth flat rock, almost square in shape. With an involuntary gasp of horror, Judy recognised it as the tradi- tional place of sacrifice. Now they were led forward until they stood on the very edge, so close that even the touch of a hand must overbalance them and send them hurtling down that sheer wall three thousand feet into the gorge below. Judy took a deep breath and held it while she tried to control her trembling knees. She was convinced that their last moments had arrived, but determined to show no fear. By her side on the lip of the precipice stood her father, and beyond him were Umtata and the two other policemen. Umtata towered above her father, massive and unmoving as the rock itself. In a line, one behind each prisoner, stood their guards. Far down on the opposite cliff, the station build- ings shone white and deserted in the sun. But their moment had not yet come. Afali uttered a few brief words of com- mand, and the prisoners were dragged back to the other side of the rock. It was then that they had their first inkling of the dread secret of the Place of Sacrifice. For across the rock stretched a rope which was drawn tightly over granite slabs at each side. It was an immense rope, having a diameter of some six inches, and it seemed to be made of thousands of strands of jungle creeper, cunningly twisted and woven. Around the rock on three sides was a sea of black faces which surged excitedly ; expectantly. Again Afali spoke, and eight men sprang upon one of the police- men and dragged him to the rope. The low murmurs of a thousand throats Co LOO)