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.Bertie did all that was possible in the way of a running commentary."You're doing fine," he kept saying, encouragingly."Starboard a little.Little more.Okay.Hold her there.You're at a hundred feet for a guess.All clear ahead.Nearly there.Steady!"Biggles eased the control column back gently.The machine began to sink."Now!" yelled Bertie.Biggles flattened out, a few feet too high, judging from the bump he took when the machine lost flying speed.He held his breath until the machine touched again.Another small bump or two and the Halifax rumbled quietly to a standstill."Magnificent, old boy! Absolutely magnificent!" cried Bertie."A bit on the high side," muttered Biggles, looking worried."Better to flatten out too soon than too late, laddie."Biggles closed his eyes, shook his head, and passed a hand over his face."You know, Bertie, the trouble with me is, I'm getting a bit too old for this sort of aviation," he said sadly."All right," he went on quickly, pulling himself together."Let's get down and see the extent of the mischief.Where did that infernal bird come from? Did you see it?""Not until it was right on top of us.Came down like a ton of bricks.Beautiful dive, pretty to watch, and all that—but a bit too close."Luck, it is said, usually balances itself in the long run.What Biggles saw when he jumped down and surveyed the landscape appeared to be a good example.It had been brutal luck to be grounded by a bird, but if it had to happen the creature couldn't have chosen a better place for him.The collision had occurred over a range of hills that fringed the eastern side of a wide plain that was partly level and partly undulating.Areas of rushes in the lower places hinted at water not far down.This was to be expected, since the plain was really a vast basin that drained higher ground that surrounded it on all sides.But Biggles' good luck, counterbalancing the bad, was even better than that.In the first place, he suspected that had he touched down on the area that supported the reeds the wheels of the heavy machine would have broken through the surface.Again, there were places where he might have run into foothills on the opposite side of the basin.It so happened that his run had taken him into a long straight arm of flat ground between these same hills.Of course, Bertie had seen these, for which reason he had been definite in his instructions to carry straight on.Finally, a little to one side there was grey stone cairn, apparently a shrine of some sort, since there were carvings on it, which Bertie admitted he had not seen."It wouldn't have improved matters if we'd bumped, into that," remarked Biggles.Bertie agreed.As it was, the machine stood in a little world of its own without a living thing of any sort in sight.What relieved Biggles as much as anything was the fact that the flat arm of the plain ran on for some distance, giving him sufficient room to get off again quickly, should it be necessary, without turning the machine.As a sailor likes to be in a position to put to sea instantly in an emergency, so Biggles liked his aircraft to be all set for a quick take-off.He thought it was quite likely that they would have to take off in a hurry, always supposing that the Halifax was in a condition to do so.The examination of the aircraft did not take long.To say that no serious damage had been done would not be true; but it could have been much more serious.The sticky mess of gore on the windscreen was nothing.That could soon be cleaned off.Unfortunately, however the bulk of the bird, the entrails, sinews and talons, glancing off the perspex, had hurtled away until it was caught by the pressure pump between the top of the cockpit and the centre turret.Apart from that there was little to worry about.The eagle's curved beak had gashed the leading edge of the centre-section.That, too could be put right, although it might take a little time.Grimacing with disgust Biggles removed the pulverised carcass from the pump and threw it on the ground.Then, very carefully, he examined the pump."It's a bit bent," he announced."Enough to throw it off balance, I'm afraid.I wonder the whole thing wasn't carried away.""Can we fix it?" asked Bertie anxiously."I think so, but it'll take time." Biggles glanced at the sun."It's going to be thunderingly hot here presently so the sooner we get cracking the better." He climbed down, wiping his hands on the grass and throwing off his jacket.Although the work to be done appeared to offer no great difficulty, and would, in fact, have been a simple matter at a maintenance unit where every sort of repair equipment was available, it was soon clear that, without such facilities, it would take some time.They worked all the morning, Biggles on the pump and Bertie on the centre-section, stopping occasionally to scan the landscape for possible visitors.None came.About two o'clock Bertie suggested that it was time they had something to eat, so Biggles reluctantly knocked off for this purpose.He walked over to the shrine and found, as he expected, that it was also a well, with a plaited rope and an ancient leather bucket for drawing up the water.The place gave the appearance of being seldom visited.There was drinking water in the machine, but none to spare, so this new source of supply enabled him to have a good wash which, after the dirty work on which he had been engaged, was desirable before touching food.He got his hands fairly clean by scrubbingthem with sand and moss.This done, he joined Bertie, who was eating jammy biscuits in the shade of a wing."You know, old boy, as long as we don't get any bally interruptions it doesn't really matter how long we stay here," said Bertie."It isn't as though we had anything to do back at base.""I can see an interruption coming now," observed Biggles."Where?""Over there."A solitary figure in a grey cloak had emerged from the hills and was walking towards them.They watched him with curiosity as, about every hundred yards, he stopped and rang a bell."Well, stuff me with suet pudding! If it isn't the muffin-man," exclaimed Bertie."He's not likely to do what you'd call a roaring trade out here—if you see what I mean.""I'd say he's one of these wandering holy men out on a little stroll of a thousand miles or so.It looks as though he's coming over to this shrine, possibly to get a drink.We needn't worry about him.He's not likely to interfere with us.""As long as he doesn't talk and give us away.""That depends on where he's going and who he talks to.Actually, these fellows are not much given to talking.They keep to themselves."The man came on, occasionally stopping to ring his bell."The old boy must be nuts," murmured Bertie."Absolute nuts.What's the idea of the bell? Is that to let the customers know that he's about?""The bell is to scare off evil spirits," explained Biggles."Bells and gongs are reckoned to be pretty potent in this part of the world.""He may have something there," agreed Bertie.There's certainly plenty of room for spooks to get around without bumping into each other."The monk approached.He stopped at a distance of a few yards, leaning on his staff.With the other hand he held out a polished wooden bowl."What's in the dish?" asked Bertie."Nothing," Biggles told him."I told you he was nuts.""He's hoping we'll put something in it.""Such as?""Offerings.Money.He's after our loose change.""Ah! I should have guessed there was a catch in it," said Bertie sadly.The monk bowed low, and said something in a high-pitched nasal voice.Biggles' eyebrows went up.He smiled and answered.A short conversation ensued."Are you kidding?" enquired Bertie, looking suspiciously at Biggles.''No.”"What lingo do you call that?""Hindi.This old boy has been to India, or one of the frontier states." Biggles got up, took some loose coins from his pocket and dropped them in the bowl
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