"That's the Mexican flag," exclaimed Biff. As a sudden thought struck him, he asked, "Just what did that list say, Chandra?"
"It said students would pay visit to the embassy of the United States of—of—"
"The United States of Mexico!"
"Yes, that was it."
"It's my fault, Chandra," conceded Biff. "I forgot that Mexico is officially known as the United States of Mexico. I should have told you the United States of America. Then you'd have checked on the American Embassy." He turned to Kamuka. "Dumb of me, wasn't it?"
"Maybe I was dumb, too," returned Kamuka. "If I had told Chandra to look for United States of Brazil, he would have brought us to the Brazilian Embassy. I could tell our story there."
"You're right, Kamuka," acknowledged Biff. "We had two chances out of three and we missed. Well, we can't sit here. We will have to follow the crowd." Follow the crowd they did. As the last three off the bus, Biff and his companions tagged on into the Mexican Embassy and slid into a rear corner of the reception room where the students were seated. Members of the Mexican diplomatic corps proceeded to hold open forum with the students of New India, exchanging views on their respective countries. After an hour's session was completed, the students started out, shaking hands with the Embassy staff as they went.
Again, Biff and his companions held back. They were able to ease along behind the students, who were so interested in exchanging their own views that they did not notice the dragging trio. Biff particularly, was glad to avoid the handshakes. The diplomats showed interest in a few genuine Sikh students, and Biff was afraid he would be asked embarrassing questions.
There was just one greeter they could not avoid. Outside the reception room, a Mexican youth of about Biff's age had come up to shake hands with the students and was chatting briefly with them. Fortunately, his back was partly turned, so Biff saw a way to avoid him.
"You shake hands with him first, Kamuka," Biff whispered, "but keep moving or he may guess that you are a Brazilian. You crowd in fast, Chandra, and keep him talking while I slide by—"
They had reached the youth by then, and Kamuka's handshake was over too quickly. Chandra, caught off stride, could not think what to say, so the young Mexican politely bowed him on with a brief shake; then turned with perfect poise to meet the last departing visitor, Biff.
The Mexican's expression was momentarily quizzical as he studied the face beneath the Sikh turban. Chandra and Kamuka, glancing back, were sure Biff was getting by with his disguise when, to their horror, Biff himself gave the game away. As though suddenly gone crazy, Biff flung away his turban, sprang forward, grabbed the Mexican boy's shoulders, and began shaking the poise right out of him.
The surprised youth gasped and grabbed at Biff as if in self-defense. Chandra and Kamuka turned to ward off any students who might come back to mix in the fray, only to see that they were all alone. That was when they heard Biff shout:
"Mike Arista!"
Then Chandra and Kamuka realized that it wasn't a fight at all, but just a genuine, heartfelt form of mutual recognition, as the Mexican boy exclaimed:
"Biff Brewster!"
XIIIBiff's Mission
The excitement of the meeting over, Biff realized that introductions were in order. He turned to Chandra and Kamuka.
"This is Miguel Arista—Mike to us," Biff said. "He and I met in Mexico, where we went hunting for a lost Aztec treasure. We had some tough adventures together." Biff turned to Mike.
"This is Kamuka," Biff continued. "I told you once about the trip that I took up the Amazon with him. And this is Chandra, the newest member of the team. He steered us through a lot of trouble from Calcutta to New Delhi."
"And I am glad he did," returned Mike. "We've been watching for you everywhere, that is, for you and Kamuka, Biff. We hadn't heard about Chandra. We alerted the American and Brazilian Embassies in case you turned up there. So, of all things, you walked into the Mexican Embassy, the last place we expected to see you. How did that happen?"
"That," replied Biff with a smile, "was Chandra's idea."
"It looks like I picked the right United States," put in Chandra. He turned to Biff and Kamuka. "You had chance number one and two. That gave me chance number three. I hit it right."
"You sure did," Biff agreed. He turned to Mike. "But how do you come to be in India? How do you know about all this?"
"You remember my uncle, the judge in Mexico City?"
"Of course."
"I came here with him on a visit, and we happened to meet your father. My uncle can tell you about it, better than I can." Mike paused a moment, then asked: "Do you have the ruby?"
For answer, Biff looked around and saw that he and his friends were alone. Then he brought out the priceless packet, opened it, and displayed the Light of the Lama. It took Mike's breath away. Never before, perhaps, had the rare gem flashed more vividly, more dramatically, than at that moment. That was all Mike needed to see.
"Put it away," he said. "We'll go over to my uncle's hotel and talk to him."
Mike arranged for a cab, and they went to the hotel. There they met Judge Felix Arista, a quiet man with a white beard and flowing hair that gave him a very austere expression. But the kindly welcome that he gave to Biff put Chandra and Kamuka completely at their ease.
Then Judge Arista went further. He spoke to Kamuka in Portuguese, then to Chandra in Hindi, so fluently that both boys were quite overwhelmed. Judge Arista also assured Biff that all was well with his father, the last they had heard from him. Next, Judge Arista introduced a middle-aged man of military bearing named Colonel Gorak, who evidently held some key position with the government of India. Both were keenly interested in the ruby when Biff produced it. Then Judge Arista turned to the boys and said, "Tell us all that has happened."
Though Biff was eager to hear more about his father, he realized that Judge Arista was following proper procedure—learning the facts so that he and Colonel Gorak could weigh them. Biff related the events from the time theNorthern Starhad docked in Calcutta. Judge Arista encouraged Kamuka and Chandra to add their impressions. Chandra, especially, came in for questioning regarding Jinnah Jad, Diwan Chand, and Barma Shah.
All three boys had much to say about Barma Shah and their adventures with him, including how he had saved Biff's life during the tiger hunt and had later responded to Biff's call when a thug had tried to steal the ruby at the dak bungalow. Judge Arista finally turned to Colonel Gorak and said:
"I am sure that we can trust these other boys as well as Biff. So I think they should all hear what you have to tell him about Senor Brewster."
Colonel Gorak bowed acknowledgment, then spoke to Biff in an even, methodical tone.
"Your father came here to India to open some old gold mines," related Colonel Gorak. "We were hopeful that investors would supply money to work them. Among these mines were some that once belonged to the Rajah of Bildapore, a small domain that was absorbed by a larger princely state, though the Rajah's family still owned the mines until the Indian government finally acquired them.
"When miners went down into the old shafts, they met with inexplicable accidents. They claimed that the mines were haunted by ghosts and demons, but we blamed it on outside factions. However, Mr. Brewster found there was some basis for the superstition, as it was part of a legend dating back five hundred years."
As Colonel Gorak paused, Kamuka exclaimed despite himself, "Five hundred years! That is a long, long time!"
"Not in India," put in Chandra promptly. "Here it is very short."
"Quite true," agreed Colonel Gorak seriously. "Five hundred years ago, the ruling Rajah of Bildapore received a magnificent ruby from the Grand Lama of Chonsi, a lost city near the border of India and Tibet. The saying was, 'While the Light of the Lama shines, so will the Star of the Rajah'—and that proved true, for the mines showed steady profits and were finally sold at a good price.
"Part of those profits were invested in gems which the Rajah's family promised to give to the Chonsi Lama in return for the luck the ruby had brought them. That was to be done if ever the Rajah's descendants disposed of their holdings, which they finally did. But Mr. Brewster learned that the gems had been hidden by loyal servants of the Rajah's family, because outsiders were seeking them."
As Colonel Gorak paused, Biff asked, "By outsiders, do you mean the Kali cult, sir?"
"For one, yes. For another, there is an international spy ring, run by an adventurer named Bela Kron. We know little about him, except that he will sell out to the highest bidder. Fortunately, Mr. Brewster located the gems and brought them here to New Delhi."
"And as I was here," added Judge Arista, "he came to see me first. I realized that this was an international matter, so I pressed it through proper channels, and Colonel Gorak was assigned to the case. He has done admirably with it."
Colonel Gorak shook his head to that.
"The real credit goes to Mr. Brewster," he insisted. "His story was fantastic, but he had the gems to prove it and Judge Arista to vouch for him. So we had him go to Ladakh in Eastern Kashmir, where he contacted secret messengers from the Grand Lama. They took him to Chonsi where he delivered the jewels with the compliments of our government. There was just one problem. The Light of the Lama was not among the gems."
With that, Colonel Gorak gestured to the huge ruby that was glowing in the sunlight as though its ruddy fire held all the secrets of the past centuries. Never had its sparkle been more vivid. No one could wonder why this was the most prized gem of all.
"We should have thought of that beforehand," declared Judge Arista. "But we had not then seen the Light of the Lama." He studied the gem again, then turned to Colonel Gorak. "I can understand why the Chonsi Lama wants it," he said.
Colonel Gorak nodded. "So can I!" he agreed.
"Then the Lama is keeping my father in Chonsi?" asked Biff anxiously."Until he gets the ruby—like a ransom?"
"Not exactly," replied Colonel Gorak. "Your father is still in Chonsi, yes—"
"Because they won't let him go?"
"No, no." It was Judge Arista who replied to Biff's anxious question. "I am sure that he could leave at any time, but his mission would not have been completed."
"He wants to deliver the ruby, too," explained Colonel Gorak, "and he was sure that Barma Shah would be able to locate it, because they had been working on it together, your father and Barma Shah."
That calmed Biff immediately. His mind flashed back to the tiger hunt, when Barma Shah had delivered that perfect shot while the shikaris were wondering what to do. Then he thought of the dak bungalow and the way Barma Shah had rescued him there. Chandra must have realized what was in Biff's mind.
"It is all right, Biff," Chandra said encouragingly. "Your father andBarma Shah—they are a team."
Biff brightened as he turned to Judge Arista.
"You mean that I'm to go with Barma Shah?" the boy asked. "That he will be there, too, when we deliver the ruby?"
"Exactly that," acknowledged Judge Arista. "We are counting on both of you. Your father said that he had arranged for you to receive the ruby and that Barma Shah would do the rest."
"I have arranged for our trip to Chonsi," added Colonel Gorak. "We can notify Barma Shah to meet us in Srinagar, the capital of Kashmir. From there, we will fly to Leh, the capital of Ladakh, where our equipment has been ordered and is waiting for us."
Two thoughts swam through Biff's mind. In flying anywhere, he would like to be in a plane piloted by his uncle, Charles Keene, who—to Biff's thinking—was the greatest pilot ever. Next to his father, Uncle Charlie was the man he would most like to see right now. The other thought was—what was happening in Darjeeling? He felt concerned about his mother and the twins. And he was worried about Li, who by now probably was worried about him.
"Su Tio Carlos," said Judge Arista, as though he had read Biff's mind. "Your Uncle Charles. We reached him in Burma and asked him to fly from there to Darjeeling, so he would be ready to take off for Leh, to join your party there. He is in Darjeeling now."
With that, Judge Arista picked up the telephone and handed it to Biff, adding with a kindly smile, "We have put in a long distance call to your family in Darjeeling. You can talk to them right now."
XIVThe Valley of Doom
Biff was right about Li being worried. From the time he had arrived in Darjeeling, after a ride in from the airport at Bagdogra, Li's worries had begun and stayed with him. He was wondering constantly how much he could tell the Brewsters if they asked him point-blank about Biff.
Biff's mother, Martha Brewster, had met Likake Mahenili in Hawaii at the time Biff and Li had gone on their thrilling sea hunt together. The Brewster twins, eleven-year-old Ted and Monica, had met Li, too, and they were bubbling with delight at seeing him again.
Of course, they wanted to see their big brother, too, so they peppered Li with so many rapid-fire questions about Biff that Li hadn't time to answer any of them, which turned out for the best. In a slightly reproving tone, Mrs. Brewster had suggested that the twins give their guest a chance to speak for himself.
Thanks to that breather, as Biff would have termed it, Li was able to state simply that Biff and Kamuka had gone directly to New Delhi in response to a message from Mr. Brewster.
"We heard from New Delhi, too," Mrs. Brewster said. "Mr. Brewster's company wired that he would be delayed and that Biff was being notified what to do."
"I'll bet Dad has taken Biff to see some super-special gold mines!" exclaimed Ted. "I wish he'd asked me along."
"That must be it," added Monica, "because Kamuka has been studying mining in Brazil. I'd like to have gone, too."
"It's nice to hear you two agree on something," was Mrs. Brewster's smiling comment, "but please notice that Likake isn't sulking because he wasn't taken on the trip. That's the way a real grownup would act."
Li didn't mention that Biff had also received a wire from the Ajax Mining Company. He merely said that he was sure they would hear from Biff as soon as he reached New Delhi. As the days passed, the twins had a wonderful time with Li. Among other things, they went on a picnic to Tiger Hill, where they viewed Mt. Everest, the world's highest peak, which towered more than 29,000 feet.
To Li, it was no more impressive than the 28,000-foot summit of Kanchenjunga, which could be seen from Darjeeling. But he reserved opinion on that and almost everything else, rather than start the twins speculating on what their brother Biff might think about it. The next step then would be—why hadn't they heard from Biff, a question Li couldn't answer.
Li was relieved when Biff's wire came from Agra, because he honestly didn't know why Biff had stopped there. But Li knew nothing yet of the postcard, which was still on its way when Mrs. Brewster's brother, Charles Keene, flew in from Burma and stated that he had been summoned to Darjeeling by an official call from New Delhi.
With Charles Keene in the twin-engine Cessna was a burly, red-haired mechanic known as Muscles, who hailed from the State of Kentucky and was proud of it. The plane also brought a Burmese boy named Chuba, who had guided Biff across the border into China, to rescue Biff's uncle when he had been a prisoner there. Biff had detailed those adventures to Li, who already regarded Chuba as an old friend.
So after a brief but hearty get-acquainted session, Li decided to confide in Chuba. They had taken a stroll to look at Kanchenjunga, which Li stated was the third highest mountain in the world. When Chuba asked what two were bigger, Li told him: Everest and K 2—known as Mt. Godwin-Austen—which was far north in Kashmir. Chuba shrugged at that.
"To me, Minya Konka looks bigger," he asserted. "That's the mountain Biff and I saw in China. Perhaps that is because we got a look at it from lower down."
"Kamuka would say that about the Andes," laughed Li. "To him, they would look bigger." Seriously, he added, "That was while you were hunting for Biff's Uncle Charlie?"
Chuba nodded.
"We may have to start a search for Biff's father," continued Li. "Biff only heard from him indirectly."
Noting Chuba's keen interest, Li told him all that had happened in Calcutta. He also mentioned his worry about whether or not he should inform Biff's family as to those facts, or wait until he received direct word from Biff. Chuba promptly solved that problem.
"You have trouble," Chuba told Li, "and Sahib Keene is trouble-shooter. If you don't hear from Biff by tomorrow, I'll talk to Sahib Keene. Then he will talk to you."
They didn't have to talk with Charles Keene the next day, for they talked to Biff himself instead. That was when the long distance call came from Judge Arista in New Delhi. Biff talked to his mother first, explaining the situation briefly. Then Judge Arista came on the wire, assuring Mrs. Brewster that all was probably well with her husband.
At the same time, Judge Arista stated that the trip to Chonsi was not only urgent but dangerous. Colonel Gorak confirmed that when he spoke both to Biff's mother and his Uncle Charlie. But all agreed that the mission was imperative, and since it was necessary for Biff to accompany the party, the other boys should have their choice in the matter, too.
Their choice was unanimous. They all said they would go. Li and Chuba talked to Biff and told him that. Then Biff introduced Kamuka and Chandra to Chuba; and finally, he had Mike Arista on the line, having him meet both Li and Chuba. It was Uncle Charlie who ended that round robin.
"Let me get my instructions," he insisted, taking the telephone from the boys at his end, "before the Indian government has to dig another gold mine to pay for this long distance call."
Uncle Charlie not only took instructions; he was filled in on all the details of the Rajah's ruby, otherwise known as the Light of the Lama, as well as Biff's adventures since leaving Calcutta. Uncle Charlie went into all that for the benefit of the breathless listeners, who included his nephew Ted and his niece Monica. Then:
"We're taking off today," Charles Keene stated, "by way of Katmandu, the capital of Nepal. Then a big hop over to Leh. If bad weather delays us, we can meet the party somewhere between Leh and the Tibetan border. They've given me a list of locations where they will stop. So let's get ready to go."
That was meant for Li and Chuba, but Ted and Monica thought that they were included, for they jumped up and were rushing off to pack when their Uncle Charlie called them back.
"No, small fry!" he said. "You're staying here!"
"Oh, no!" the twins wailed in one voice. "We both voted to go!"
"That vote was for teenagers only," returned Uncle Charlie. "Somebody has to stay here and look after your mother. Besides, the Cessna only carries five passengers and we have four already: Li, Chuba, Muscles, and myself."
"But if we're small fry," argued Monica, "the two of us would only count as one—"
"Or maybe you don't want girls along," interrupted Ted, "so in that case you can take just me."
Monica turned on Ted at that and was pounding him to show how tough her fists could really be, when Uncle Charlie moved in and separated them as he said:
"Break it up! Muscles is so big he counts for two, so that makes five passengers already. Sorry, no more room!"
When they reached the airfield, Muscles had the plane all ready for the flight. The massive mechanic was standing guard and glaring suspiciously at any workers who came near the plane.
"That is Muscles' way," Charles Keene said approvingly. "With an international spy ring haunting an old gold mine and thugs trying to steal a ruby as a gift for the goddess Kali, almost anything could happen to any of us, anywhere!"
Then, with Charles Keene at the controls, the plane was climbing from the runway in the direction of the snow-capped Himalayas, where dozens of magnificent peaks seemed to grow into sight, to match huge Kanchenjunga and even more distant Everest.
The higher the plane rose, the more the mountains loomed above it. Avoiding those vast peaks, Charles Keene worked the plane above valleys and passes that formed openings in the massive barrier. The ranges rose skyward like great steps until the plane reached the fertile Katmandu Valley near the center of Nepal, a great green oasis in a vast desert of rocky crags and the perpetual snow of the surrounding Himalayas.
Katmandu was a colorful city of temples, pagodas, and palaces that rose from among lesser buildings and great open squares. The altitude was a little more than four thousand feet, and Charles Keene made a landing at the airfield to check on weather reports, while Muscles gave the plane another going over. From there, the plane took off westward, passing south of the great twin peaks of Annapurna and Dhaulagiri, gigantic sentinels twenty miles apart, with a deep valley tapering down to a river gorge between their five-mile summits.
"It's too soon to head north," decided Charles Keene, "even though that gap does look inviting. It would take us into Tibet, and we might have problems picking a course over into Kashmir. We'll do better this way."
This way took them out of Nepal, and soon they were flying over India again. There, Biff's uncle finally swung to the north, and again the Himalayas loomed ahead. Then they were knifing through fleecy clouds at two hundred and fifty miles an hour, straight toward the disputed Tibetan border.
"This course will bring us into Leh," Charles Keene declared, as the clouds began to thicken, "but we'd better get more altitude."
A gigantic mass of solid, snowy white rose through a rift in the clouds.As the plane skimmed over it, they all drew a relieved breath.
"We nearly scraped frosting off cake," Chuba said.
Charles Keene smiled, but a bit grimly, as he studied his chart again.Then:
"If that was Nanda Devi," he declared, "we are away off course." He turned to Muscles. "Is the altimeter right?" he asked.
"It was when I checked it last."
"Then we aren't climbing as we should."
The plane droned on, in and out of cloud banks, above valleys filled with mist. Fortunately, no more mountains rose into their path, but clouds were thickening up ahead and the plane was not responding properly.
"We're almost over the northern range," Uncle Charlie said. "But tackling those cloud banks would be risky, and turning back would be worse. We'll do better making a forced landing in one of those forgotten valleys."
"Provided the visibility is good enough at landing level," put inMuscles. "We may encounter ground fog."
"That's the chance we take," Uncle Charlie conceded. "But I don't think it has settled deeply yet."
Coolly, Charles Keene zoomed over two low-lying mountain ranges, then banked his plane toward a wide space where a trace of green showed deep beneath the gathering mist. The white blanket thickened as he approached it, and the plane, as it descended, was swallowed completely in those swirling folds. The roar of the motor was muffled; then it, too, faded entirely.
Silence reigned again above the mist-filled valleys of the Himalayas, the strange, mysterious stillness that the mightiest of mountains had known since the dawn of time.
XVThe Caravan Halts
"So this is Srinagar!"
Biff Brewster spoke from the bow of a narrow, rakish craft known as ashikara, as two turbaned oarsmen propelled it along the River Jhelum through the heart of Kashmir's capital city. Between Biff and the stern, where both paddlers were seated, was a large canopy mounted on ornamental poles. Reclining beneath it were Chandra, Kamuka, and Mike Arista.
The front of the canopy bore the boat's name,Happy Daze, for these gondolas of the Himalayan Venice were particularly popular with American visitors. As they swept along beneath the ancient wooden bridges that spanned the Jhelum, the boys waved to passengers in passing shikaras with signs bearing such varied titles asHot Dog,The Big Mo, andChattanooga Choo Choo.
Picturesque buildings flanked both sides of the waterway, and beneath their balconies were native craft calleddungas, on which whole families lived. Far more pretentious were the lavish houseboats occupied by Europeans and Americans. These were more in evidence after the shikara brought them to the Dal Gate, the outlet for Dal Lake.
From there, they followed more canals to the lake itself, where they wove among actual floating gardens to the five-mile stretch of open water beyond. Sunset was tingeing Dal Lake with a deep crimson that purpled the blue lake and its surrounding foliage against the magnificent backdrop of the snow-clad Himalayas.
"Fine sunset," Kamuka appraised it. "Much better than on the Hooghly."
"And all we need," commented Biff, studying the mirrored sunset in the placid water, "is for a bore to come roaring down the lake. This water buggy would really wind up in a happy daze."
Even that imaginary menace was ended when they reached their destination, a houseboat namedPride of the Deodars. This was a stout ship in its own right, measuring 120 feet from "stem to stern" as Biff put it, with a width or beam of 16 feet. Before taking off from New Delhi, Colonel Gorak had engaged thePride of the Deodarsfor their overnight stay in Srinagar and had come directly here while the boys were taking their river trip.
Smilingly, the colonel showed them through an actual floating mansion, for thePride, as the boys promptly called it, had a huge living room and a sizable dining room, each with a fireplace, plus three bedrooms with private baths. A native chef served a tasty dinner from the ample kitchen. After the meal, the boys went to the living room. They were seated in front of the fireplace, when a light glimmered cautiously from the water close by, and they heard a shikara scrape alongside thePride.
"Barma Shah," stated Colonel Gorak. "I contacted him at the address in Simla." Gorak turned to Biff. "I have never met him, so you can introduce us."
[Illustration: Boat on river, passing a town]
When Barma Shah entered, he was wearing his beret and tinted glasses, as excellent a disguise as ever, for when he removed them, his complexion changed in color and his face seemed to broaden, probably because of his widespread ears. His high forehead and short-clipped hair were deceptive, too, for the beret had hidden them well. Colonel Gorak nodded his approval.
"I can understand why you have managed to stay undercover," Gorak declared. "I have dozens of reports from men who have contacted you at one time or another"—the colonel gestured to an attache case on the table—"but not one could give more than a vague description of you."
"Unfortunately, most of those who knew me best are gone," returned BarmaShah, in a regretful tone. "They were marked for death, as I have been."
"I know that," nodded Colonel Gorak. "All of you were in constant danger from all sides when you tried to quell those riots between rival factions, especially in Calcutta."
"The danger still is great," declared Barma Shah, "and that is why I show myself so seldom. During the past year or more, only two men really met me face to face, so far as learning my identity. One was Diwan Chand; the other, Thomas Brewster. Recently, of course"—he gestured toward Biff and his companions—"I told these boys who I was, because once I was clear of Calcutta, I felt the need for secrecy was gone. So now"—Barma Shah finished with a bow—"we meet at last, Colonel Gorak."
"And the meeting is a timely one," returned Gorak, "because you are the man who can help us most."
The colonel spread a large map of Kashmir on the table, ran his finger from Srinagar eastward to Leh, the principal city of Ladakh. Then he inched it, zig-zag fashion, toward the boundary between India and Tibet, which was marked with a dotted line, indicating its uncertainty.
"Charles Keene will meet you in Leh," explained Colonel Gorak, "or at one of your later stopping points. When you reach the vicinity of Chonsi—wherever it may be—you will be contacted and guided to that lost city."
Barma Shah looked up, slightly puzzled. "You aren't coming with us,Colonel Gorak?" he asked.
"No. This is not a military mission, nor even an official expedition. Mr. Brewster went there on his own and personally promised to deliver the Rajah's ruby to the Chonsi Lama, once the gem was found. Since the descendants of the Rajah were supposed to deliver it to the successor of the Lama, tradition demands that Mr. Brewster's promise be fulfilled by his son.
"Again, in keeping with tradition, the boy should be accompanied by someone close of kin, so we have chosen his Uncle Charles for that purpose. And since you, Barma Shah, played the vital part in recovering the lost ruby, you are entitled to go along as its temporary guardian."
As Colonel Gorak finished, Barma Shah smiled.
"You should have picked Diwan Chand for my job," he said, "but as for going along, I don't think Diwan Chand would have. So I guess I'll have to do."
"You will do very well. Any more questions?"
"Just one, Colonel. What about the Chonsi Lama? Have you any reports on him?"
"Nearly twenty years ago," stated Colonel Gorak, "the Chonsi Lama visited Leh and received a tremendous ovation. He was then a man in his early thirties and impressed all who met him with his great vigor and his keen mind. In the years since, the Chonsi Lama has preserved the balance of the border. He has refused to listen to the demands of dictators who have tried to curb his power. They are unable to oust him because they cannot find him."
"And all the while his influence has increased?" Barma Shah inquired.
"Yes. Today, the Chonsi Lama is regarded as one of the wisest men in the East and, without a doubt, the most mysterious. No one has seen him since that time in Leh, but he has been heard from often, and his well-weighed decisions have increased his fame. Now in his early fifties, he is probably at the peak of his career—that is, if Lamas have careers. When one dies, his spirit is supposed to be reincarnated in an infant born at that same time, who then continues on as a Living Buddha."
Biff and the other boys wanted to hear more on that intriguing subject, but Barma Shah asked:
"Will anyone block us between Leh and Chonsi?"
"One man will if he can," returned Gorak grimly. "That is Bela Kron, who heads the international spy ring. Have you ever run across him here in India?"
"No, but I would like to." Barma Shah gritted his teeth and clenched his fists. "I would repay him in kind for the way he tortured some of my friends."
"I know." Colonel Gorak tapped the attache case significantly. "The reports are all in here. But would you recognize Bela Kron if you saw him?"
"No, because I could not possibly have met him. Brewster may have, around those mines in Bildapore, but Bela Kron would have been very wary, any time he came to Calcutta."
That ended the conference for the evening. Tingling with excitement, theboys found it difficult to go to sleep, even in the luxurious houseboat.When they finally did drop off, the night seemed very short indeed, forColonel Gorak woke them early for their morning flight to Leh.
The five-hundred-mile trip was interesting, for below, the boys saw samples of the rugged terrain that they would have to cover later on. The nearest thing to a road was a crude trail that led through mountain passes twelve thousand feet in altitude, where the plane flew low between the hemming Himalaya ranges. There were occasional squatty villages and Buddhist monasteries perched high upon the mountainsides. These gave an idea of what Chonsi would be like if ever they found the place.
The immediate objective was Leh, and it proved interesting when they landed there. Though a town of only a few thousand inhabitants, its bazaars showed a mingling of many races including tribes in outlandish costumes, for this was the trade center where goods came in from Tibet by caravan. Biff and his companions found the equipment ready and the arrangements all made for their trek to the border. But Charles Keene and his Cessna had not yet arrived.
For two full days they waited, with the strain continually increasing. The only news was a roundabout report from Katmandu, stating that the Cessna had put down there and then resumed its flight, on the very day that Biff and his companions had flown from New Delhi up to Srinagar. On the third day, Colonel Gorak, who had come along this far, decided that the caravan must start. Barma Shah agreed.
"There is still a chance that your uncle's plane made a safe landing," Gorak told Biff. "But by now he will suppose that you have left Leh, so there is no need of staying here."
"In fact, it would be a mistake," declared Barma Shah, "for your uncle has our schedule and may be expecting us at one of the stopping posts. We are already a day late, but the first two stages are short, so we can make them in a single day."
Paced by plodding, heavily laden yaks, they made the required distance by nightfall. Their course was toward the glistening mountains to the south, but the whiteness that worried Biff was not the snow upon the Himalayan summits. The thick clouds surrounding the lower levels were the menace. They filled the passes and the valleys beyond, the only places where the plane could have made a landing.
By morning the clouds were heavier still, and Barma Shah was anxious to make an early start because of the threatening snow. Biff pleaded with him to wait, so they did for another hour, studying the increasing snow clouds.
"It's no use," Barma Shah decided finally. "We can hardly see the slopes now. Anyone coming through those passes would have to turn back."
Biff nodded hopelessly. But as he took one last look through a pair of field glasses, he was sure he detected motion in the distant haze. Then, against the snowy background, he saw three figures. One paused as they struggled forward and waved his arms in a characteristic gesture.
Excitedly, Biff exclaimed, "Uncle Charlie!"
XVIThe Bamboo Bridge
Biff and the three boys with him started forward on the run to meetCharles Keene and his companions. They soon saw that one of the pair wasLi, and since the other was about his size, it only took one guess forBiff to name him: "Chuba!" But by the time the two groups met, Biff hadanother name in mind as well. The first words he put were:
"Where's Muscles? Wasn't he along with you?"
"Muscles is all right," Charles Keene assured him. "We are, too, but we had to speed up our pace the last few miles, otherwise we wouldn't have made it. When I get a cup of hot coffee, I'll tell you all about it."
Li and Chuba were just too winded to talk at all. When they reached the caravan, Barma Shah decided to delay the start until they had rested. That gave Charles Keene time to tell their story. He related how clouds had enveloped their plane high in the Himalayas.
"Rather than hit a mountain," he said, "we chanced a landing in a valley. Fortunately it was a deep one, and the fog hadn't fully settled. All of a sudden, green fields smacked right up at us. We banged up the plane some, but not too badly. What happened next was the odd part."
Charles Keene paused to drink half his cup of coffee in one long, grateful swallow. Meanwhile, Li and Chuba couldn't wait to pick the story up from there.
"A lot of natives wearing goat skins came rushing up to the plane," declared Li. "We thought they were going to mob us."
"They were shouting 'Yeti! Yeti!' over and over," put in Chuba, "but before we could find out what they meant, Muscles went after them. You should have seen them run."
Charles Keene laid aside his empty cup.
"Later, they came creeping back," he said, "and we made friends with them. So we didn't ask what they meant by shouting—"
He stopped suddenly, as Barma Shah made frantic gestures for silence. ALadakhi porter was standing by, staring with dark, narrowed eyes. BarmaShah told the man to bring some more hot coffee. Then, when he was gone,Barma Shah confided:
"Don't mention the word Yeti to these people. You have heard of the giant ape-man of the Himalayas, haven't you? The creature they call the Abominable Snowman? That's their name for it: Yeti—"
"I remember now!" exclaimed Charles Keene. "I was sure I'd heard the word before. But I thought that yarn was spiked long ago."
"Not in these mountains," rejoined Barma Shah. "Here in Ladakh, as well as Kashmir, Sikkim, Bhutan, Nepal, Tibet, and even as far away as Yarkand, the Yeti is very real. The natives will run away if they even think such a creature is around."
"And we thought they meant the plane!" exclaimed Li.
"Yes, because we came down from the sky like a big bird," added Chuba."Bigger than they ever saw before."
"They may have blamed the Yeti for bringing such a monster," commented Barma Shah. "But here comes the porter with the coffee. So let us avoid the word from now on."
"But where is Muscles?" queried Biff.
"Back in the valley, looking after the plane," explained his uncle. "Some of the tribesmen—Sherpasthey call themselves—guided us over to the mountain pass and then returned to their valley. We miscalculated slightly or we would have been here sooner."
Despite the delay, the caravan completed its next stage ahead of the impending snowstorm. The patient yaks, creatures that resemble both the ox and the American buffalo, with long hair like the fleece of a sheep, responded to continued prodding as though they recognized the need for hurry. Tikse, the chief porter and head yak driver, had a comment on that score.
"Listen and you hear yak grunt," he told the boys. "That means two things."
"And what are those?" asked Biff.
"One thing, yak like what happen, yes. Other thing, yak do not like what happen, no."
"And how," queried Mike, "do you tell the grunts apart?"
"No way to tell," replied Tikse. "Yak grunt the same exactly, whichever way he feel. But it is important just the same."
"And what makes it so important," demanded Li, "if you don't know the difference?"
"You do know the difference," returned Tikse. "When yak give grunt, he feel one way or other, maybe both. When yak do not give grunt, yak do not care."
"But why," asked Chuba, "should yaks feel both good and bad?"
"These yaks feel good," explained Tikse, "because they know they get to shelter ahead of snow. They feel bad because we make them hurry. So they say both things with one grunt. Simple."
It looked simple indeed when they reached the day's goal, a small patch of grazing ground where dried grass spread to the foot of rocky slopes. There were stone huts for the members of the party and similar shelters for the yaks. The reason stones had been used in the construction was because there were plenty of them lying around; and nothing else. The roofs of the buildings were made of rough boards, covered with thatched leaves. They weren't nailed down because they didn't have to be. The builders had simply placed big stones on the roofs.
The boys turned in early and slept late, snug in their sleeping bags and shoulder to shoulder in their huts. In the morning it took three of them to ram the door open, the snow was so deep. But the yaks were up, ready and grunting—some because they liked snow; others because they hated it.
The yaks pulled the party through. They bulldozed their way through the snow, chest deep, clearing it like living snowplows, so that the people had no difficulty following them. Oddly, as the trail climbed higher, it led to barren ground, totally free from snow. Apparently, the storm clouds hadn't managed to gain that altitude.
Early that afternoon, the party halted at a roaring mountain stream and stared at the remnants of a crude wooden bridge that had been washed away by the flood. Sadly, Tikse petted one yak after another, while the porters relieved the stolid beasts of their burdens. The boys watched Tikse turn the yaks over to two other Ladakhis, who promptly drove them off along the trail. Barma Shah explained the situation.
"We'll have to make a footbridge," he stated, "before the water rises too high. So Tikse is sending the yaks on to another shelter. From now on, the porters will carry our packs."
All the while, Biff could hear a chopping sound from a short way up the narrow, turbulent stream. There was a sudden crash, and a tree came toppling down to bridge the raging torrent. Chandra appeared from the brush, carrying a heavy hand-axe.
"Bridge already set," reported Chandra. "It just needs one thing more—"
[Illustration:A dozen steps and Biff was over]
"It needs much more." The interruption came from a squatty, broadly built porter named Hurdu, as he tested the tree with a clumsy foot. "We need ten more trees like this."
"We need a rail for the bridge," declared Chandra calmly. "Can somebody bring me a rope?"
Biff supplied a rope, and Chandra hitched one end around a tree. Like a monkey, he scrambled across the fallen tree, carrying the free end of the rope with him. A single slip and Chandra would have gone into the flood, which probably would have pleased Hurdu, who was watching intently. But Chandra was across in no time and promptly hitched the rope to a tree on the opposite bank, drawing it taut as he did.
"Now, walk across log bridge," called Chandra, "and hold on to rope rail."
Biff shouldered a pack and followed instructions, keeping his eyes fixed straight ahead, not on the furious current, which would have distracted him. With one hand on the rope, it was simple to steady himself while he advanced one foot, then the other. A dozen steps and he was over. Now the other boys were following his example. That was all the porters needed. They hoisted their full burdens, eighty pounds to a man, and stalked across Chandra's simple bridge in regular procession.
Charles Keene and Barma Shah followed, as did Tikse and Hurdu, though the last two exchanged glares before they started and after they had crossed. Now that the yaks had gone their way, a dispute appeared to be in the making as to who was the chief guide of the party. Both Tikse and Hurdu wanted that honor.
The narrow path made a steep ascent up the side of a high cliff, and before the porters were out of sight of Chandra's crude bridge, they saw the surging stream carry it away. Time had been the all-important factor, where that crossing was concerned. But an hour later, the party came to something much more formidable.
The trail swung along the fringe of a tremendous, steep-walled gorge a thousand feet in depth and a hundred or more across. Down below, a river thundered like a hungry dragon, ready to devour any human prey. Chandra was pleased to see that this chasm was already bridged, for he could have done nothing with his hand-axe.
The bridge was of a suspension type, so crude and flimsy of construction that it seemed to hover in midair. Yet it evidently was strong enough, for Barma Shah, who was up in front, started across without hesitation. Tikse and Hurdu were close behind him, followed by the long procession of porters with their heavy packs. As Biff paused to look for the other boys, he found Chuba close beside him. As usual, Chuba had a saying to fit the situation.
"Tikse and Hurdu agree on something at last," declared Chuba. "Wise man never argue when it prove another man right."
"You've got something there," laughed Biff, as he watched Tikse and Hurdu practically crowd each other across the bridge. "Neither could afford to hesitate, or he'd be admitting that the other was boss."
"From the look of that bridge," observed Li, "both were lucky to get across. The same goes for us—if we make it."
Considering that the bridge's cables were composed of twisted strands of bamboo and rattan, with hanging vines dangling like ropes to support the roadway, Li had a point. But the other boys didn't agree. They had seen and crossed many such primitive bridges: Chuba in Burma, Chandra in India, Kamuka in Brazil, and Mike in Mexico. Though the porters crossed at a safe distance apart, they didn't begin to tax the bridge to its capacity.
That was proven when the boys reached the bridge and saw that its runway, fashioned from strips of bamboo laid crosswise, was wide enough to drive a yak across. As the boys crossed the bridge two abreast, Biff spoke to Chandra, who was beside him.
"Now I see why Hurdu wanted to chop down more trees back at the little stream. We could have brought the yaks along. Why wasn't Tikse in favor of that?"
"I saw Tikse pet the yaks and say good-by," returned Chandra. "He made grunts, like yak, saying he was both glad and sorry. Sorry because yaks had to go. Glad because it gave jobs to porters instead."
"You're right!" exclaimed Biff. "Colonel Gorak said the bearers were not to receive full pay until they actually took over."
The tremendous roar of water echoed up from the steep-walled gorge, drowning further conversation until the boys were across. It might have been imagination, but Biff felt that the bridge quivered as he left it, so he turned to look back while Chandra, still beside him, was laying his pack on solid ground. They had come between a pair of upright posts that served as tower for the bridge; now they were close by the big stakes to which the rope cables were moored. There, porters were stacking their packs by dozens and sitting down to rest.
There were still several porters on the bridge, all well spaced. Behind them came Li and Chuba, for those two boys had stayed back to wait for Charles Keene, who was bringing up the rear. Biff's uncle had taken on that duty to "keep the parade moving" as he styled it, which meant that he had been encouraging straggling porters in his own cheery, breezy way.
Li and Chuba were past the halfway mark and Uncle Charlie was almost there when Biff saw the swaying bridge give a sudden shudder. Biff thought for an instant that it was an earth tremor. Then he noticed that the porters near him were chatting, quite unconcerned. Biff gave a warning shout, too late.
With a snap like a rifle report, the rope parted from the stake at Biff's right. With it, the entire cable slipped on that side of the bridge, tilting the runway downward. In a single second, Charles Keene, Li, Chuba, and a pair of porters were sprawling on the slippery bamboo slats, which had suddenly become a chute to certain doom in the abyss below!
XVIIThe Monster of the Mountains
In the harrowing moments that followed, Biff saw two shapes go slithering off the slanted bridge and continue spinning, tumbling in huddled helpless fashion into the gaping jaws of the roaring gorge. Biff shut his eyes as they disappeared, and his mind flashed back to those tiny figures that he had seen against the snowy background of the mountain pass.
Uncle Charlie, Li, and Chuba. The boys were two of a size, like those two forms that had just plunged from the collapsing bridge. So they must be Li and Chuba—or else the two porters. But no, not the porters; those somersaulting shapes weren't big enough. Biff tightened his fists grimly as he opened his eyes for one last hopeless look.
Biff was right: It wasn't the porters.
At the first warning quiver of the bridge, they had dropped their heavy burdens and made a desperate dive for safety. Nearly across, first one, then the other, had managed to grab the high edge of the canted runway and scramble to the ground beyond. But as Biff looked past them, his eyes opened really wide.
It wasn't Li or Chuba either!
Both boys were still there, near the center of the bridge, with UncleCharlie!
The moment the bridge had tilted one way and they had felt themselves sliding with it, all three had made a frantic grab in the other direction. Instinctively, they had gripped the upper side and the slender grass ropes that supported it. They were still hanging on.
What Biff had seen tumble into the gorge were the bulky packs that the porters had flung aside. Those bulging burdens, when falling, had looked exactly like a pair of huddled humans. Now, Uncle Charlie and the two boys were lightening weight by letting their own packs follow the path of the others.
That still didn't guarantee them safety. The whole weight of the bridge was now swaying on a single rope cable. Sooner or later it was sure to snap; then all hope of rescue would be gone. Now, chunks of the runway were breaking loose from the dangling ropes, which no longer bore their proportionate shares of the weight. That produced a new dilemma.
It was impossible for Uncle Charlie, Li, and Chuba to work their way along that upper edge, because of the gaps. They would have to reach the one remaining cable, climb it to the top of the tower post and come down to the ground. Li and Chuba might manage it; but not Charles Keene, with all his weight.
Chandra had the answer. He had brought along the rope from his log bridge. He tossed one end to Biff, saying, "Hang on tight!" Then, carrying the other end, Chandra scrambled up the lone cable and practically slid from the post top out to where Li and Chuba clung. There, Chandra, Li, and Chuba tied their rope end to the cable; while Biff, Mike, and Kamuka hauled the rope taut and hitched the other end around the tower post.
That filled the gaps along the level route to safety. Chandra went first, pausing to tie dangling liana strands to the new rope to keep it from sagging. Li and Chuba followed, stopping to wait for Charles Keene, even when he twisted one arm in the rope and waved them on with his other hand. If Biff's uncle tired, they hoped to help him; but what Uncle Charlie lacked in agility, he made up for in endurance.
After minutes that proved long and nerve-racking for Biff and his watching companions, the other boys reached solid ground with Charles Keene right behind them. A moment later, Biff and the rest were swarming around Uncle Charlie and congratulating him, while Barma Shah spoke approvingly.
"That was very good, indeed. And just in time, too. The wind is getting brisker from the gorge. What is left of the bridge will soon be gone."
At a combined order from Tikse and Hurdu, the bearers gathered their packs. Then they were on their way again. As they veered away from the gorge, Biff took a last look back. The remains of the bridge were swinging like a hammock now, its single strand due to snap at any moment.
Chandra, who was walking beside Biff, touched his arm. "The rope, Biff," he said in a low voice. "Somebody cut it!"
Biff stared at him. "Are you sure?" he gasped. When Chandra nodded, Biff said soberly, "Then that means there's an enemy right in our own party."
That evening, when they pitched their tents in the shelter of some trees on the rim of a rugged valley, Charles Keene remarked:
"Losing a few packs didn't hurt us, because we were short on porters anyway."
"Short on porters?" inquired Barma Shah. "How?"
"We had sixty yesterday morning, but there were only fifty-four when I counted them as they crossed the log bridge. That's why I brought up the rear, to see that no more of them skipped."
That news brought a grim expression to Barma Shah's face. In response, he said:
"They may have heard our talk of Yeti. What is more, I saw some big tracks in the snow before we broke camp yesterday. I obliterated them, but perhaps some of the porters saw them first."
That night it snowed again, though only lightly. In the morning, Biff awoke to hear the camp babbling with excitement. He crawled from his sleeping bag and emerged from the tent, where he promptly ran into Chandra, who told him:
"Yeti tracks again. Hurdu found them on the hill."
Biff joined Charles Keene and Barma Shah up near some barren rocks. The tracks were much larger than a man's foot, but clumsy and roughly formed. They led in from the rocks, then back again, as though some creature had come down from the craggy hill toward the camp, only to return to its lair.
Some of the Ladakhi bearers were gabbing among themselves and repeating, "Yeti—Yeti," much too often, as they walked along beside the big footprints and compared them with their own smaller tracks. Back at camp, Barma Shah conferred with Tikse, who gave the porters a pep-talk in a mixture of Hindi and Ladakhi. They responded in grunts of half-agreement as they gathered up their packs.
"Those sound like yak grunts," declared Chuba. "Good and bad. They don't want to go along, but anyway, they go."
"That is right," stated Chandra, who had caught the meaning of the speech. "Tikse says they have to go along because they can't go back, as there is no bridge across the gorge."
That night, the porters pitched their tents much closer together when they camped. There was another light snow, and in the morning Hurdu found new Yeti tracks beside a rocky slope nearby. Charles Keene was frankly skeptical about them.
"Anybody could have made them with a piece of brushwood," Biff's uncle declared, "or in half a dozen other ways. But I guess Tikse can't convince his crowd of that."
"Tikse thinks they are Yeti tracks himself," returned Barma Shah. "That is the real trouble."
All day the Ladakhi porters kept watching the barren ground above the tree line, for that was the high altitude at which the Yeti supposedly dwelled. They quickened their pace and reached the next campsite well before dusk. There, trouble seemed over, for this was a valley where two trails crossed, and already a nomadic tribe was camped there. They greeted the party from Leh and gladly sold them fresh provisions.
That night, there was music and mirth around the campfires. The morning dawned crisp but pleasant, for there was no sign of any snow. Nor was there any sign of Tikse and his Ladakhi porters. They had pulled out at dawn, taking the other trail the long way back to Leh, leaving only Hurdu and a dozen others who were not Ladakhi.
That automatically promoted Hurdu to chief guide, and when he suggested hiring some of the nomad tribesmen as porters, Barma Shah favored the idea, but asked for approval from Charles Keene, as joint leader of the expedition. Biff's uncle was all for Hurdu's suggestion.
"They look to me like Sherpas," he declared. "Like those friendly chaps we met in the valley where we landed our plane."
"They are not Sherpas," put in Chuba politely. "I listen to their talk, Sahib Keene. They call themselvesChangpas. They do not come from the south, but from the north."
"That means that they are not Nepalese," stated Barma Shah, "but Tibetans. They are accustomed to these high altitudes perhaps better than those who live in Ladakh or Nepal. What is more"—he lowered his voice—"they have probably heard less about the Yeti."
"Then let's hire them quickly," returned Charles Keene, with a knowing smile, "before they can change their minds."
Hurdu hired the Changpa bearers, and the march was resumed. But the nomads, though sturdier than the old crew from Leh, lacked their steady-going qualities. They paused frequently to rest and eat, even hinting that they might drop their packs and quit. So Barma Shah told Hurdu to cut the day's trek short as soon as they reached a suitable campsite.
That went on for three days, which pleased Biff and the other boys, as it gave them more time to roam at large. They had found little to talk about with the porters from Leh, but this Changpa crew were mostly hunters. They had brought throwing spears as well as bows and arrows, and at every halt, they let the boys try the weapons.
On the fourth morning, Biff awoke to find more snow on the ground. Nobody else was up, for the carefree Changpas were late risers. Glancing off beyond the camp, Biff saw something that riveted him. Going back into the tent, Biff wakened the nearest boy, who happened to be Chandra. Motioning for silence, Biff whispered: "Yeti tracks! Come on!"
Chandra came, bringing his trusty hand-axe. Biff nodded approval and promptly "borrowed" a throwing spear that was standing outside a Changpa tent. He then led Chandra to the first of the marks that he had noticed in the snow. They looked like footprints and big ones, half the size of snowshoe tracks. Breathless, Chandra gestured back toward the camp.
"Maybe we better call others?"
"Not yet," returned Biff. "Let's see where these lead. Then we can plan ahead, before everybody gets excited."
The tracks led up the slope, but instead of ending there, they followed a snow-covered ledge. Beyond that was a huge, chunky rock, and as Biff glanced in that direction, he saw a great tawny figure with a shock of thick, black hair, as it bounded from cover.
Then it was gone, among another cluster of rocks. Biff was after it, beckoning Chandra along, and they saw the thing again, as it sprang to another snowy ledge. There it dropped to all fours, and by the time the boys reached the ledge, it was gone again, but its footprints showed in the patchy snow. The two boys passed a slight turn where the rocks rose like jagged steps, tufted with snow. As Chandra started in that direction, Biff noticed an arched gap in the jagged wall that rose beside the ledge itself.
Biff turned and called, "Wait, Chandra. There's a cave here—maybe that's where he went—"
Chandra looked back, and his face froze with horror. He was too startled even to shout a warning, but the look in his eyes, which were staring straight past Biff, told enough. Instinctively, Biff wheeled about, then recoiled as he turned his eyes upward.
From the cleft in the rocky wall loomed a tremendous hulk of reddish brown. Tiny eyes were glaring above wide-open, long-toothed jaws, while massive, sharp-clawed paws clamped downward, inward, toward the boy's dodging form.
Biff Brewster was all but in the grip of a gigantic Tibetan bear, one of the most dangerous creatures that roved those rocky heights!
XVIIIThe Frozen Waterfall
All that saved Biff at that moment was the Changpa spear that he had snatched from outside a tent. He had the weapon in his hand, and as he dodged, he jabbed the spear point at the creature from the cave. It was puny compared to the bear's bulk, but it bothered the big beast. Clumsily, the bear batted aside the jabs, and that diverted its action.
Biff now had time to dive away. He flung the spear as he went, but it flew wide. Hardly had it clattered on the rocks before another weapon whizzed past the bear's head: Chandra's hand-axe. Like Biff, Chandra timed his throw too late. The bear was already dropping on all fours, about to lope after Biff. Biff saw that in a glance and began thinking fast.
Bears, though clumsy, could move swiftly and would attack if angered, which this one evidently was. Tibetan bears were death on yaks and sheep; that Biff had also heard. Maybe they'd keep coming after them on ledges like this, so there was no use acting like a sheep or a yak. Biff halted suddenly and flattened himself against the rocky wall, ready to reverse direction if the bear came bounding past.
On the contrary, if it reared, Biff intended to be off again; and while waiting that moment of decision, he took a quick look down toward the campsite. That proved smart indeed. Instead of the area being all but deserted, with everyone asleep, it literally teemed with action. Uncle Charlie and Barma Shah were coming up the slope armed with rifles and followed by half a dozen Changpa tribesmen, all with bows and arrows.
All the other boys were coming, too, apparently shouting as loudly as they could, but the wind was against them, which was why Biff hadn't heard them. They were gesturing, though, and that he understood. Wildly, all were waving for him to keep going along the ledge. That Biff would have done anyway, for just now, the bear had arrived and was rearing for another lunge. So Biff took off again, hoping that the ledge would lead somewhere.
That wasn't necessary. From behind him came thepingof bullets as they hit the ledge, followed by the boom of the actual gunshots from below. Biff darted another quick look and saw arrows coming down from the sky, with the rearing bear as their target. The bear hadn't budged from its last position, except to set itself up for the marksmen. Suddenly bristling with arrows, it toppled, rolled sideways, and fell from sight over the ledge.
Everybody took credit for the kill, which they had a right to do. Uncle Charlie had fired half a dozen shots and was sure that at least two had landed. Barma Shah quietly showed Biff his rifle, which still had a special gadget fitted above the barrel.
"This time," Barma Shah confided, "itwasa telescopic sight. I only use the flashlight beam at night."
As for the Changpa marksmen, there were six of them, and there were six arrows in the dead bear. They knew which arrow was whose, because all had identifying marks. They chattered among themselves, each claiming that his shaft had been the best. They were still at it after their comrades had carved the bear into steaks for the evening dinner at the next campsite.
That pleased Barma Shah, because nobody was interested in the Yeti tracks any more. He mentioned this fact to Hurdu, who interpreted it to the Changpas thus:
"You see what fools the Ladakhi are? Day after day, they see tracks in the snow and think they are Yeti footprints. Instead, they are just bear tracks. The big bear followed, hoping people have yaks that bear can kill and eat. Instead, people kill bear and eat it. But people who kill bear are Changpas, not Ladakhi!"
When they stopped for a noonday meal, the Changpa bowmen were still arguing whose arrow had killed the big bear. While the other boys were watching and quietly getting a wallop out of the pantomime, Chandra drew Biff aside and asked:
"Who do you think really killed the bear?"
"Uncle Charlie fired a lot of shots," replied Biff, "And he may have made some hits. After all, we didn't dig the bullets out of the carcass. But I know—and you know—that Barma Shah is a terrific marksman—"
"This is true," interposed Chandra. "But Barma Shah did not kill the bear. The Yeti did."
Biff stared amazed.
"We saw Yeti," said Chandra. "Didn't we?"
"We saw something go hopping up to the ledge," conceded Biff, "but when we got there, out popped the big bear."
"From the cave, yes, but I saw Yeti keep going up by rocks above."
"So you said, Chandra. But are you sure?"
"Sure I am sure. Because the number one shot that killed the bear, it came from up there. Afterward, there was much shooting. But first, the bear had gone like this."
Chandra gave a perfect imitation of the way the bear had stiffened on the cliff. So Biff decided not to argue it.
"You may be right," he told Chandra, "but let's keep it to ourselves. The Yeti is supposed to be right smart, maybe more man than ape. But to class him as a expert rifleman, well, people just wouldn't go for it."
"You go for it, Biff?"