By W E Johns
'Don't circulation but. i go out of front door. they're going to rush me then. that is your likelihood to move out the again manner. received that?'-'Quite clear.'-'Good! yet don't believe i am exaggerating. My possibilities of getting out of right here alive are approximately one in 100. Yours are one in ten. they will kill you with no the slightest compunction in the event that they imagine you are with me. i do not comprehend what you are doing right here, however it does not topic. Make for London. for those who get there, inform them what happened.'Biggles, Algy and Ginger by accident arrive in Spain throughout the civil battle. After an opportunity stumble upon with a British Intelligence agent who passes them a coded message which needs to be bought again to the Ministry of Defence in London, they're eager about a determined chase to come back domestic with the evil leader of Intelligence and Propaganda after them.
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He knew that it used to be not going that there will be a Franco aerodrome in entrance of them, for they have been getting far from the theatre of warfare, so any probability might come from the rear, from the quick interceptor Fiats that would be despatched after them. Algy went aft. He used to be away for a few mins. 'There are 5 machines in the back of us,' he introduced frivolously. 'They appear like Fiats. ' Biggles nodded. 'How far-off? ' 'Two to 3 miles. ' Biggles' eyes rested thoughtfully at the mountains forward. past them they'd be secure. They have been, he judged, twenty miles away. He made no remark, yet moved the regulate column ahead a bit for max pace, turning his nostril a bit of in the direction of what one of many a number of passes during the mountains. 5 mins later rolling foothills lay under; the mountains themselves, gaunt and stark, raised a magnificent line of peaks simply forward. Algy, who had back long gone aft, back. 'They're remaining up,' he acknowledged. 'Has Ginger obtained a machine-gun? ' 'No. i assume the gunner introduced his personal gun with him. ' Biggles nodded, and establishing the part window, craned his neck in an try and see the pursuing machines, yet couldn't, from which he knew that they have to be without delay at the back of. He may now see truly the go which he had selected. the hole used to be no more than a mile away, even supposing how a ways it prolonged he had no technique of figuring out. one other 5 mins might see them relatively secure. due to the fact that he nonetheless had a couple of hundred ft of peak to spare, he thrust the joystick ahead for a last sprint. at the same time, faintly above the roar of the engines got here the crisp chatter of a machine-gun. Biggles pressed his correct foot at the rudder bar; then the left. The desktop swayed drunkenly. back got here the taca-taca-taca of a machine-gun, and an fast later a Fiat zoomed forward, having overshot its dive. Biggles swerved away, yet didn't take his eyes off it. He observed its nostril swing around; observed the brilliant orange flecks of flame dancing from the muzzle of its weapons. there has been not anything he may possibly do, for the mouth of the cross yawned in entrance of him. A burst of bullets rained at the Caproni because it plunged into the chasm that break up the variety. one of many engines coughed, coughed back, and went lifeless, smoking. The bomber roared on, Biggles urgent at the joystick to beat the torque of the one engine. a brief distance forward the ground of the move rose suddenly, forming a ridge. It appeared that the Caproni wouldn't be ready to transparent it. Biggles eased the stick again, yet with a shake of his head allowed it to move ahead back because the controls went slack with the specter of an approaching stall. The Caproni rushed in the direction of the rocks. Biggles may well see each aspect basically. He may well see a double gateway, with the little sq. huts of the customs humans, and knew that it was once the frontier. They seemed to swoop in the direction of him. What had occurred to the Fiats he neither knew nor cared. They not mattered. With each nerve taut, he steading the stick—eased it again ever so a bit. The desktop spoke back, yet its wheels have been lower than fifty ft from the emerging floor, and the frontier 100 yards forward.