“We’re going to hit pretty hard, aren’t we?” Red asked.
The lieutenant nodded. “Pretty hard. I’ll try and break it as much as possible with a couple of short climbs, but it’s going to be pretty hard.”
Ten minutes later, the fuselage of the plane was sweeping over the tops of the trees.
Tink took Jing’s hand and held it tightly.
“We’ll be all right,” he said, “and maybe we’ll save the lieutenant and Red.”
The lieutenant suddenly stood up and moved quickly toward the tail of the plane.
“Come on, Red,” he said, speaking quickly. “This is it.”
A moment later, the plane scraped the tops of the highest trees, twisted slightly and then plowed straight ahead into a dense mass of foliage that snapped under its speed with a hissing scrape. It plunged groundward, sweeping a clean wide swash through the underbrush and finally settling with a rocking crash against the yielding mass of tangled jungle vines and foliage.
Brilliantly plumaged birds wheeled from nearby trees and circled the spot with high piercing screams of terror, before streaking away into the bright dawn. A curious unnatural silence gradually settled over the wreckage of the once-trim plane...
Chapter IV
Tink held Jing tightly until the plane had come to its rocking swaying stop, then he looked down anxiously at the young lieutenant sprawled on the floor.
The young man wasn’t hurt seriously. He had been thrown to the floor with the impact of the crash, but he was breathing, and even as Tink watched he raised himself with one hand and shook his head groggily.
The cameraman, Red, was lying farther toward the rear of the plane and his eyes were closed and his face was a deathly white. Tink saw that his left leg was buckled under him at a twisted, unnatural angle.
The lieutenant crawled slowly to his feet and stood upright, swaying slightly, his hands pressed to his forehead.
“Is he all right?” Jing whispered.
“He seems to be,” Tink said, “but the other one has a broken leg, I think.”
The lieutenant knelt beside Red and felt his pulse. Then, with a relieved expression on his face, he stood up and stumbled toward the door. He opened it with difficulty, and climbed down to the thick, soft carpeting of jungle underbrush.
The plane had fortunately landed in a small clearing and this had saved it from complete destruction. If it had crashed against one of the towering trees that bordered the clearing it would have been battered into a total wreck.
Tink and Jing followed the lieutenant outside.
“I wonder where Nastee is?” Jing asked.
“We probably won’t see much of him,” Tink said. “He’ll be smart enough to keep out of my way for a while.”
The young lieutenant staggered slowly to the middle of the clearing and looked helplessly about with bleak eyes. He put a hand to his forehead and shook his head slowly.
“He doesn’t look very good,” Jing said. “Isn’t there something we could do for him?”
The lieutenant turned slowly and started back for the plane but he hadn’t taken half a dozen steps before he staggered and dropped to one knee. He made an effort to rise, but his legs gave beneath him and he fell slowly forward on his face. He lay on the rotting floor of the jungle, motionless and inert, and for an instant Tink thought he was dead. But then he saw the slow, uneven rise and fall of his chest and he knew he still lived.
“Oh, the poor man,” Jing cried. “We’ve got to do something for him.”
They started across the clearing, but suddenly, to their left, a mighty rumbling roar sounded, and they froze in their tracks. There was a heavy rustling in the tangled underbrush that enclosed the little clearing, and then a great head appeared over the top of the brush, its great mouth opened wide and another thunderous roar rocked the ground.
Jing clung to Tink, trembling, as the underbrush parted and a mighty lion stalked slowly into the clearing, its red eyes intent on the motionless figure of the man lying on the ground.
“What is it?” she asked fearfully.
“I don’t know,” Tink said. “It’s awful big, isn’t it?”
The lion paused for a second on the edge of the clearing, its tail lashing slowly and its little eyes flicking alertly from side to side. Then it trotted slowly across the clearing toward the lieutenant’s sprawled body.
“Come on,” Tink said urgently.
“What are you going to do?” Jing said, and her voice was almost a wail.
“I–I don’t know,” Tink said. For once in his life he was completely stumped. Nothing in his experience had prepared him for a situation like this, but he knew he couldn’t just stand by and watch the lieutenant be devoured by this great beast.
He started across the clearing running as fast as he could, but the lion reached the lieutenant before him. It paused for an instant sniffing the ground and then it put one huge paw on the lieutenant’s shoulder and turned him over. A deep rumble sounded in his throat and his tail lashed ominously as its little red eyes stared into the man’s white, still face.
Tink and Jing reached the lieutenant’s side and Tink felt his courage deserting him as he stared incredulously at the size of the monstrous beast.
He took an involuntary step backward and something sharp jabbed painfully into his back.
“Ouch!” he cried.
He looked around and saw that he had bumped into a long, shiny thorn. He rubbed his back ruefully, and then a sudden idea occurred to him. He pulled the thorn from the ground and regarded it with speculative eyes. It was almost twice as long as he was, and its thin hard point was as sharp as a needle.
Jing was watching him anxiously.
“What are you going to do?” she asked.
Tink’s jaw was set firmly.
“We’re going to attack!” he said grimly.
“With thorns?” Jing asked incredulously.
“It’s all we’ve got,” Tink said. “But,” he added, rubbing his back tenderly, “I think it might be enough.”
He trotted toward the lion, and when he reached the beast’s massive forepaw he extended the thorn like a lance and drove forward, head lowered, with all his strength.
The needle-sharp point dug into the lion’s tender paw with all of Tink’s weight behind it.
The lion roared and lifted the paw into the air. His little eyes flickered with rage. Jing had decided on a rear attack and as the lion stood irresolutely on three feet, glaring in baffled anger about the clearing, she drove a thorn into his hind paw.
The lion wheeled, snarling wildly.
His long tail lashed about and there were flecks of murderous rage in the close-set, red eyes. Tink backed slightly away and then dashed in again, imbedding the thorn in the same spot he had first attacked.
The lion turned and its giant paw flicked out blindly, tearing the thorn from Tink’s hand. The impetus of the blow dumped Tink to the ground a dozen feet away. He crawled to his feet, dazed and bruised, and limped back to the attack.
But the fight was over. Jing’s second thrust drove in between the lion’s claws and with a frightful roar the great beast bounded from the clearing.
Tink hurried to Jing’s side.
“Are you all right?” he asked anxiously.
Jing was smiling widely.
“I feel wonderful,” she said. Her face sobered as she glanced at the young lieutenant who was stirring slightly. “What are we going to do with him?” she asked.
“I think he’s all right,” Tink said. “He just passed out from shock. When he comes to, he’ll feel better.”
The lieutenant opened his eyes slowly and then struggled to a sitting position. He passed a hand dazedly over his forehead.