BRITISH
COMICS
DANNY
Last episode, taken
from The Hotspur issue: 1013
|
The man
with more grit than the desert railway he runs!
Danny
bribes a band of rebels with a chest of silver he doesn’t have!
The Revolt.
As the
big diesel-driven train sped smoothly across the
Danny Drives On.
“Resistance is useless,” snapped the
leader of the ambushers to Danny. “You will obey orders promptly unless you
want your throats slit. Sheik Dhaga is not a man to be trifled with.” Danny
chewed his pipe stem. He was weighing up the situation. He wasn’t going to
surrender the train to Sheik Dhaga’s men if he could help it. A wooden barrier
had been placed across the track, but it was not strong enough to stop or
derail the train. The half-dozen Arabs were the real menace. “Well, I suppose
we can’t argue with you blokes,” said Danny, shrugging. “But what’s going to
happen to us, that’s what I want to know?” “That is for Sheik Dhaga to decide,”
retorted the Arab leader. “I might make it worth your while to let us go,”
mentioned Danny casually. “Suppose I told you that this train was carrying a
chest of silver for the Emir?” A greedy gleam crept into the Arab leader’s
eyes. “A chest of silver?” he echoed. “By Allah, Sheik Dhaga will be most
interested in that. He needs funds to continue the revolt. Where is this chest
of silver?” “Look in the box-car at the end of the train,” suggested Danny. The
Arabs headed for the box-car. Hassan stared at Danny in astonishment. “But
there’s no chest of silver on the train, Danny, sir,” he whispered. “I didn’t
say there was, did I?” remarked Danny cheerfully. “I just said suppose I told
them there was. There’s no harm in inviting the blokes to look in the box-car,
is there?” He hurried after the Arabs, who now had the box-car open and were
inside searching for the supposed chest of silver. They were so intent in their
task that they didn’t notice Danny at the door. The first they knew of his
presence was when they heard the door slam and the key turn in the lock. Danny
had locked them in. “Open this door!” yelled the Arab leader, thumping on the
door furiously with the butt of his rifle. “There’s no silver here! Open the
door or I’ll shoot the lock off!” “Go ahead, mate,” said Danny good-humouredly,
and he waved to the driver and Hassan. “Help me get this box-car uncoupled
quickly.” Hassan grinned. Between them they got the box-car uncoupled. Then
they dashed back to the engine and Danny took over the controls himself. A
moment later the train was moving, leaving the box-car behind, with the
infuriated Arabs trying to shoot their way through the locked door. Danny
opened the throttle. The train hit the flimsy wooden barrier at full speed and
hurled it clear of the track. Beyond the barrier the desert was full of points
of light, the camp fires of Dhaga’s army.
Shots were fired at the train as it roared
on, but none of them did any damage. Soon it was clear of the danger zone and a
few hours later came safely to a halt at El Aza station.
Everything seemed quite in the capital.
The Emir didn’t seem to be worrying himself much about the revolt. The palace
was in darkness when Danny strode through the gateway, followed by Hassan. The
Emir was in bed. He was rather peeved when he finally emerged from his bed chamber,
after Danny had insisted that the guards should rouse him. “This is a most
inconvenient hour to pay a call my friend,” grumbled the Emir. “Much as I enjoy
the sight of your august countenance, I must remind you that the night is made
for sleeping. Have you no bed to go to?” “There are more important things to do
than snooze, mate,” retorted Danny. “You’re in trouble. A revolt has broken
out. Sheik Dhaga is trying to seize control of the country.” “That is no reason
why I should have my rest disturbed,” protested the Emir. “I have been faced
with revolts before. My army will take care of Dhaga in good time.” “But he’s
got control of the railway line between here and the oil wells. He’s not
allowing any trains to pass.” The Emir smiled serenely. This wasn’t going to
worry him. If the trains were stopped for a week, the oil company wouldn’t be
able to complete the contract. Then the Emir wouldn’t have to pay for the
railroad. “It is the will of Allah,” beamed the Emir. “I cannot be blamed if a
rebellious sheik chooses to take over the
The Armoured Train
A fine country this is,” stated Danny
gloomily as he sat, facing Hassan, in his little office the next day.
“Rebellion flaring up all round us, the train service practically at a
standstill, and your old man toddles off for a holiday as if he hasn’t a care
in the world.” The Emir had departed for his summer palace with the question of
the airport still unsettled. But it wasn’t the airport that was worrying Danny
now. He was worrying about the trains being held up. It was a very sticky
situation for Danny. But as he sat scratching his head and wondering what he
was going to do about it, the door suddenly burst open and in rushed a dusty
and disheveled Arab. He was one of the Emir’s guards. “Honoured Hassan,” gasped
the Arab, “you must return to the palace. As heir to the throne, you must
prepare yourself to take over your father’s duties at once.” “Me?” yelped
Hassan, startled. “You don’t mean my father is dead?” “Not yet,” puffed the
Arab, “But the news may come any minute. Disaster has befallen us. Sheik
Dhaga’s troops have ambushed your father. He escaped with a handful of guards,
but is now besieged in his summer palace by the rebels.” “I warned him he
wasn’t taking that Dhaga bloke seriously enough,” put in Danny grimly. “How
long can he hold out?” “Not more than a day. The sheik has a heavy gun and is
shelling the palace.” “Can’t you get help there in time?” The guard shook his
head. “The road is very bad. It is not suitable for transporting troops in a
hurry.” There was a rail track to the Emir’s palace, but as the trains are out
of action the Emir had set out on his journey by car. “Well, there seems to be
only one way to save the situation, mate,” decided Danny quickly. “We must get
troops there by train.” “But Dhaga’s rebels will stop the train.” “Not if it’s
an armoured train,” said Danny. “We’ve got to make it strong enough to
bulldozer its way through. I’ll get along to the workshops right away. There
are some steel plates lying around somewhere.” He jammed his old bowler on his
head. “You’ll have to take charge of your old man’s army now, Hassan, mate,”
Danny added, “so you go and rustle up some troops and guns. Leave the rest to
me.”
As Hassan rushed off with the guard. Danny
headed briskly for the engine sheds. There were plenty of Arab workers
available. Danny set them to work riveting steel plates to the sides of the
coaches and goods trucks. By
The Four-Wheeled Bomb.
“What are we going to do now?” demanded
Hassan. A great gap had been torn in the track by the explosion. All that was
left of the rails was a tangle of twisted metal. Danny and Hassan stood gazing
at the wreckage. “There’s only one thing for it,” said Danny. “We’ve got to lay
a new section of track. It’s a good job I brought along a gang of platelayers
and spare rails. The troops can cover the workers from the train while the
track is being laid.” In a few minutes the platelayers were at work. “While
these blokes get on with the job,” decided Danny, “I’m going to take a walk
along the track to see if any other damage has been done.” “I’ll come with
you,” said Hassan promptly. Danny armed himself with a rifle and set off,
followed by the Emir’s son. Ridges of rock rose on either side of the track,
but there was no sign of any rebels. In the distance they could hear the boom
of a heavy gun. From the hills columns of smoke were rising. “That’s from your
old man’s palace,” Danny muttered to Hassan. “The rebels are still shelling it.
There won’t be much of it left if we don’t get there soon.” “The guns can’t be
far away from here,” said Hassan. “if we could find it—” He broke off abruptly.
They had turned a bend in the track. Ahead, three Arabs were at work on the
rails. “Rebels,” whispered Hassan. “They must be the men who blew up the track.
It looks as if they’re planning to blow up some more of it.” Danny raised his
rifle. “All right, you blokes, stick your hands up!” he barked. The Arabs
whirled round in alarm, hastily raising their hands. “Tie ‘em up,” said Danny
to Hassan. The Arabs had been planting dynamite on the track, and while Hassan
tied them up, Danny removed it. Just beyond the ridge bordering the track he
found an old lorry containing more dynamite. “That’s useful,” muttered Danny, a
thoughtful grin on his face. “Their camp can’t be far from here. Let’s see if
we can find it. Even if the rebels see us they won’t stop us. They’ll think
we’re the dynamite party coming back. Leaving the scowling Arabs tied up by the
track, Hassan clambered into the lorry with Danny. They travelled about a
quarter of a mile along a bumpy track and then halted at the top of a slope
that ran down to a valley. In the valley was a rebel force. Beside an
ammunition dump was the heavy gun that was shelling the Emir’s palace. “We’ll
soon put that lot out of action,” said Danny. He fixed a fuse to the dynamite
in the back of the lorry and got Hassan to light it while he himself started
the lorry up. Danny released the brake and the lorry began to run down the
slope. Danny leaped out at the vehicle got under way. The rebels didn’t see it
coming until it was too late. A deafening explosion filled the valley. The
lorry had crashed into the gun and blown it to bits. The loss of their gun took
all the heart out of the rebels. By the time the armoured train reached the
Emir’s palace they had fled. “I owe you my life, friend Danny,” beamed the
Emir, meeting Danny in the shattered courtyard. “I shall see that you are
richly rewarded when I return to El Aza.” “When you return to El Aza, mate, I
shan’t be there,” said Danny. “The revolt is smashed now and the trains will be
running to the oil wells as usual tonight. Our contract will be completed on
time and my job will be done. I’ll be pushing off to a new job in some other
country.” The Emir looked disconcerted. He was wondering where he was going to
find another draughts player as good as Danny. “There’s no hurry, my friend,”
he said hastily. “We must finish our game of draughts before you go.” He
clapped his hands for a servant. “Bring in the draughts board.” “There is no
draught board, Highness,” murmured the servant apologetically. “That last rebel
shell smashed it to pieces.” The Emir’s face fell. He tried desperately to
think of some other excuse to detain Danny. “Sorry, but I’ll have to be off,
mate,” said Danny casually. “I reckon we’ll have to call our draughts
tournament a draw.” “Wait!” exclaimed the Emir, a gleam of inspiration in his eyes.
“I have just remembered—you cannot leave my country.” “Why not?” “The airport,”
beamed the Emir. “You will have to stay in Azakand to take charge of the
building of it.” “But I thought you couldn’t afford an airport.” The Emir
smiled. He couldn’t afford to lose a draughts player like Danny either. He was
choosing the lesser of two evils.
“I have changed my mind,” he said. “The
airport will be built—and you will stay in Azakand to build it.” Danny filled
his clay pipe and grinned. “I thought I’d bring you round to my way of thinking
in the end, mate,” he remarked.
THE END
© D. C. Thomson & Co Ltd
Vic Whittle 2010