The others laughed at her. “No!” said Jack. “Bill will do something — but don’t ask me what!”
The paratroopers had not appeared again that day, not even the one who was supposed to be going to use the “wings” that night. The helicopter stood there in the middle of the courtyard, the sun glinting on its motionless vanes.
Evening came. The children grew restive. The Japanese had brought them food as usual, but had not said a word. What were all the paratroopers doing? Having a ceremonial feast or something to celebrate their comrade’s experiment?
And where, oh, where was Kiki? Jack was feeling very miserable about her now. He turned over and over in his mind all the things that might have happened to her. She had never been away from him so long.
That night the beam shone out again in the courtyard. Meier, Erlick, three or four servants and the paratrooper appeared, followed by the lean-faced, scarred pilot and his companion.
Then up the opening, stepping out majestically, came the king!
He was dressed in his grand robes and crown and was hardly recognisable as the poor, bald old fellow who had talked to the children a day or two back. He held himself proudly as he walked to the centre of the courtyard.
Behind came four Japanese servants, carrying a box. They laid it down at the king’s feet. In silence he stooped down and opened it.
He took out a pair of wings! They glittered like gold, and were shaped like a bird’s outstretched wings, big and wide. Lucy-Ann gasped in delight.
“Oh! Look, Dinah! Real wings! Aren’t they lovely?”
The king was speaking to the amazed paratrooper. “These will hold you up when you jump. Press this button here as soon as you leap from the helicopter. Then you will find that you cannot fail. You will no longer feel the pull of the earth. You will be free and light as air. Then you may use the wings, for guiding yourself, for planing, for soaring, whatever you wish!”
“Doesn’t it sound marvellous?” whispered Lucy Ann, drinking in every word.
“The wings must be fitted to your arms,” said the king. “Hold out your arms and I will fix them on.”
“Here — is this all I’m going to have to stop me falling?” said the paratrooper.
“You will not need anything else,” said the king. “In these wings are imprisoned powerful rays. At the press of the button they are released, and shoot towards the earth, preventing its pull on you. You cannot fall! But when you want to come to earth, press the button once more — and you will glide down gently, as the earth exerts her pull on you once more.”
“Yes, but look here — I understood it was a new kind of parachute I was trying out,” said the paratrooper. “See? I didn’t think it was stuff and nonsense like this!”
“It is not nonsense, man,” said Meier’s curt voice. “It is a great invention by the greatest scientist in the world. You will find Erlick and me waiting for you to come to earth when you have flown a mile or two. We shall take the dogs and find you. Then — riches for you, and honour for the rest of your life! One of the pioneer flying-men!”
“Look here — I’m a heavy chap,” began the paratrooper again. “See? Those flimsy wings won’t hold me — rays or no rays! I don’t know about any pull of the earth on me — all I know is I’ll have to fall, once I jump out with only those things on my arms. Are you crazy?”
“Get him!” suddenly said Meier, in a furious voice. Erlick and the Japanese at once pinioned the paratrooper’s arms. He had to stand while the king fixed on the “wings.” The children watched with bated breath.
The paratrooper cried out and struggled, but the ape-like Erlick was far too strong for him. “Put him in the helicopter and take off,” commanded Meier. “Go too, Erlick. Push him out at the right moment. If he’s a fool he’ll not press the button. If he is wise he will press it — and then he will see how well he flies!”
But the pilot now had something to say. He spoke in a drawling voice, clear and contemptuous.
“I think this fellow’s too heavy. The last one was too. You’d better think again, Boss, and get those wings made twice the size. I’m game for an experiment where there’s a chance for everybody — but I reckon there’s not much chance for a big fellow trying out those wings of yours.”
“Do you mean you refuse to take this fellow?” said Meier, white with anger.
“You’ve got it right first time, Boss,” said the pilot, getting so red with anger that his scar showed up very plainly. “Try a little fellow! I guess the experiment worked all right last time — for a minute or two — and then it petered out. These paratroopers are hulking great chaps — the ones you try out with me, anyway — and I tell you plainly I’m not taking anyone who doesn’t want to go. Got it?”
Meier went up to the pilot as if he meant to strike him. Erlick pulled him back. “That’s right,” said the pilot, who had not turned a hair. “Don’t try any funny business with me, Boss. I know too much — and there’s others will know too much too, if I don’t get back on time!”
He got into his machine, and the swarthy man, his companion, who had not said a single word all this time, got in beside him. The paratrooper watched them dazedly. The engine of the helicopter started up.
The pilot leaned forward and spoke again to Meier, who looked as if he was on the point of bursting with rage.
“So long! I shan’t be coming next time — I’m going for a holiday! I’ll be sending somebody who’s not so pernickety as I am — but I warn you — try a little guy!”
The machine rose vertically into the air, circled round the mountainside slowly, and then made off to the west. In a few minutes it could not even be heard.
The children had watched all this, the girls only half understanding what was going on. Lucy-Ann felt sorry for the frightened paratrooper and very glad he had not been forced to go off in the helicopter.
The little group left in the courtyard paced up and down. A lot of talk and argument went on, though the paratrooper did not seem to be joining in at all. He had stripped off the wings and was held securely by the Japanese. The king carried his precious wings all the time, but at last replaced them in the box and locked it.
“Very well,” he said, “I agree. It may be that the men we choose are too heavy — but who else could we have asked? Only paratroopers are used to jumping from heights! Try someone lighter if you wish. It will make no difference to my ideas.”
And then the children heard a few words that made them gasp in horror. “One of those kids will do,” said Meier. “That insolent boy, for instance. We’ll put the wings on him and he shall jump from the helicopter!”
Chapter 24
THE HELICOPTER COMES AGAIN
WHEN the courtyard was completely empty, and the beam had gone out, leaving the mountain-top in darkness, Lucy-Ann began to cry bitterly. Jack and Dinah put their arms round her. They felt like howling too.
“He doesn’t mean it,” said Jack, trying to think of something really comforting. “Don’t worry! He only said that to scare us. They’d never make Philip do a thing like that.”
“They didn’t say it to scare us. They meant it, you know they did!” sobbed Lucy-Ann. “What are we going to do? We’ve got to do something.”
It was all very well to say that — but what in the world was there to do? The children got very little sleep that night. They debated whether or not to tell Philip what had happened — and what was proposed.
They decided not to. It would be dreadful for him to lie alone in his cave and worry. So, when morning came and they sent Snowy to Philip with the usual sandwiches made from their own breakfast rations, they said nothing in the daily note about what had happened.
But to their great surprise, who should be ushered up the steps by the Japanese that morning, but Philip himself! He bounded forward to greet them, grinning.
“Hallo! They’ve let me out! Tired of starving me, I suppose, and seeing me get fatter and fatter. I say, did you see the helicopter last night? I heard it.”
Lucy-Ann and Dinah hugged him and Jack slapped him heartily on the shoulder. They were delighted to see him again. Snowy had come with him and acted like a mad thing, careering up and down the parapet as if he was in a circus.