"Didn't you get a weather briefing at the airport?" Scotty asked.
"Yes. Such as it was. Mostly it was local Baguio conditions and a brief report on Manila."
"Something ahead," Angel called.
"I see it," Scotty answered. "A truck of some kind. Take a look, Rick."
Rick surveyed the landscape ahead, saw that he would not get into difficulty by losing altitude, and went down for a look. He couldn't get closer than a thousand feet, but that was ample. It was a load of lumber, although the truck was much like theirs.
"What color is it?" Scotty asked.
"Hard to tell. Ours was gray. This one looks brown."
"Could be dust," Angel offered. "Dirt road below, plenty dusty. But there are lumber mills up in this part of the province. Perhaps that is just one of their trucks. You had no lumber, did you?"
"No. Our truck had only two crates on it. Besides, Angel—I mean Nangolat—must be far beyond this point. He left last night early."
"How do you know?" Angel asked curiously.
"Yeah," Scotty echoed. "You sound sure."
"He got the scanner, didn't he? There was a risk that we might find out that it was gone. He wouldn't hang around the airport knowing that we might find out about the theft, would he?"
"Good point," Scotty agreed.
"I heard of this earth scanner," Angel said. "Dr. Okola told me. It takes pictures of what is inside the ground, no?"
"Not exactly pictures," Scotty said. "It shows a kind of wave pattern. You'll see how it works."
Rick snorted. "Optimist. What makes you so sure?"
"We'll get it back," Scotty said calmly. "No smart Ifugao is going to do us in the eye, chum. Not without a fight. We'll find Tony and we'll find the scanner. Then we'll clobber pal Nangolat—or let Angel do it—and get to work."
"What do we do with Nast?"
"We get nasty with Nast."
Rick groaned. "That pun, pal, is strictly cornball."
"I've always wanted to be a pun pal," Scotty said.
Far ahead, green shelves gave a regular pattern to the base of one mountain. Rick pointed them out to Angel. "What's that?"
"Igorot rice terraces."
"Igorot? I thought the rice terraces were Ifugao."
"The Igorots have them, too. They are not so—I don't have the word for it. Big, make one open the eyes in wonder, very fine. The kind of thing that makes you feel surprise here." Angel put his hand on his stomach.
"Breath-taking?" Scotty suggested. "Spectacular?"
"Yes. Both. These Igorot terraces are nothing. Wait until you see the terraces at Banaue."
Three pairs of eyes scanned the road ahead. It was deserted.
"Tell us about rice," Rick asked. "There was rice below when we flew to Baguio, too."
"Yes. A great deal of rice. You passed over Pampanga Province, which is called the rice bowl of the Philippines. That rice is grown in paddies, which are fields with little earth walls around them called dikes. The paddies can be flooded. Rice needs much water. Down there, though, the land is flat."
Scotty pointed to a razorback ridge. "This land sure isn't flat."
"No, but the Igorot and Ifugao workers make it flat by building terraces. Each terrace is like a little paddy. It can be flooded, just as the lowland paddies are. The water comes from the mountains in pipes made of bamboo."
"It must be quite a water system," Rick observed.
"Yes. There are miles of bamboo pipes, but no water is wasted. The water is put into the upper terraces, then it runs by itself through openings down to the lower terraces."
"Is the rice the same?"
"Nearly. There is another kind called highland rice that is planted like wheat. We have a little wheat, too, but not enough to feed many people. The highland rice is not very good. Paddy rice is better."
Rick was interested. He continued his questioning. "Are the paddies flooded all the time?"
"Oh, no. They are flooded before the rice is planted. You know we do not plant seed in the paddies? We plant baby rice plants which are grown in special places. The little plants are pushed into the mud after the paddy is flooded. Then the water is left for a while. But if we left it all the time, the plants would rot. So after a while we let the water out and only let in enough to keep the rice growing."
They were over the terraces now. Beyond them, Rick saw brown houses that looked like beehives. It was an Igorot village.
"We'll reach Bontoc soon," Angel said.
"No truck and no sedan," Scotty added unhappily. "They couldn't have reached Bontoc, could they?"
"The truck could have, easily, if Nangolat drove during the night."
"Then we'll have to keep hunting past Bontoc right into Banaue."
Angel tapped Rick on the shoulder and pointed ahead. "There is Bontoc."
Nestled in the mountains on the bank of a river was the town of Bontoc, a small cluster of wooden and grass houses. Rick saw that the dirt road had changed to a black top.
"I'm going to look for a place to land."
Scotty nodded. "Good idea."
Rick waited until the town was directly below, then he sized up the terrain and began to lose altitude in a tight spiral. It was in situations like this that the Sky Wagon's flaps came in handy. He pulled the control down and the movable sections on the trailing edges of the wings moved down in response. He began to lose speed.
When he was five hundred feet over the town he flew parallel with the road, searching for wires and other hazards. There were wires, but they entered the town from the south, then branched west, toward Banaue. To the north there were no wires, nor any other hazards he could see. And the road looked level. He picked a stretch at the edge of the little town where the houses were far apart. They were primitive little dwellings made of straw tied together in bundles. He hoped his prop wash wouldn't blow them apart.
"Hang on," he said. "Here we go."
The movement of rice stalks in a paddy near the road gave him wind direction. He should land from the north. He circled, got into position, and started in. Scotty leaned forward, eyes peeled for obstructions.
There was excitement in the town below. People in Western clothes and in scant breechcloths or tight skirts of Igorots were running into the open to see what was making the racket. Rick hurried the landing a little, afraid the people would clutter up the strip of road he had chosen. He put the Sky Wagon down with no sign of a bump and braked to a stop. Then, because children were getting near, outstripping their elders in haste to see the plane, Rick cut the engine.
Two Igorot boys, perhaps fourteen years old, were the first to reach the plane as the three climbed out. The Igorots had the chopped-off bowl haircut, and they wore breechcloths and nothing else. They stared at the plane, wide-eyed, then one said something to his friend in guttural Igorot.
Angel Manotok grinned. Rick asked, "Did you understand?"
"Yes. I speak Igorot."
Scotty said, "They probably were talking about the great sky bird. That right, Angel?"
Angel's grin broadened. "Not exactly. The English equivalent would be slang. What he said corresponded to 'Hey, bud, get a load of the real snazzy four-place job. And dig that retractable landing gear!'"
The boy who had spoken looked at Angel with suspicion. "You no Igorot," he accused.
Angel chuckled. "You no Englishman, but you speak English."
The boy laughed. "Okay, Mac. My name Pilipil. I learn plenty plane stuff at Clark. Dig holes there for pay. See many plane."
Rick and Scotty got over their amazement. It was obvious that the boys were more than fourteen years old. Their short stature and unlined faces were deceptive.
"How old are you, Pilipil?" Rick asked.
"Eighteen."
Rick wanted to know more about the boy who had worked as a laborer at the American Air Force Base at Clark Field, but there was no time because the rest of the crowd had arrived. The boys found themselves surrounded by Filipinos and Igorots, all chattering with obvious excitement and interest.
A Filipino who was obviously someone of importance pushed his way through the crowd. He was dressed in a business suit, complete with starched shirt and tie, an odd rig for such a primitive village as Bontoc, Rick thought. The man was smoking a cigar with one hand and carrying a cane with the other. He hung the cane over the wrist on the cigar hand and held out the other.
"I am the district road commission. Leocadio de los Santos, at your service. Mr. Lazada informed me by letter that I was to place my entire resources at your disposal. You are Mr. Brant, Mr. Scott, and Dr. Briotti?"
"Dr. Briotti is not with us," Rick replied. "This is Mr. Manotok."
"Ah. Delighted. Please come to my office so we may talk quietly."
Rick looked doubtful. "We shouldn't leave the plane."
"Do not fear. It will be perfectly safe."
Santos switched to the native language, speaking briefly and with authority. The crowd obediently fell back a few paces, leaving a cleared area around the plane. The road commissioner had the situation under control, all right.
Nevertheless, Angel Manotok said, "I will wait here."
Rick nodded. That was best. He and Scotty followed Santos to the office, a few hundred feet down the street. The office was on the second floor of a frame building. The first floor was a work area filled with tools, including a bulldozer and a road scraper.
Before discussing business, Santos insisted on refreshment. He clapped his hands and a dungaree-clad Filipino workman appeared. Santos spoke. In a few moments the workman reappeared. Both boys were surprised when he offered them their favorite American beverage. It seemed strange to be sipping coke in a place inhabited by primitive people clad in breechcloths, some of them armed with short spears.
Rick got down to business. "Can you find out if a truck and a green sedan have passed through Bontoc?"
"What kind of truck, please?"
Rick described it. "We don't have the make of the sedan. It may have had five men in it." He couldn't believe that the sedan had reached Bontoc, however.
Santos picked up his phone, reached down, and whirled a crank. The phone rang. He spoke Ilokano into it, then received a reply from the other end. He spoke again, then hung up. "That was the gateman at the edge of town. No truck and no sedan passed through here today."
There was only one difficulty, but it was a major one. Rick didn't know whether or not the district road commissioner could be believed. Santos was Lazada's man.
The boys finished their cokes before Rick decided on a course of action. If Santos was lying, they would find out soon enough. So, for the present, they would assume that he was telling the truth, and that he could be trusted.
"Is the province peaceful up this way?" Rick asked.
"Oh, yes." Santos replied. "It is usually very peaceful. Sometimes on the road south there is a holdup, but the Igorots in Bontoc and the Ifugaos at Banaue cause no trouble."
"Glad to hear it," Scotty said. "When we start digging, some of the Ifugaos may get upset. I'm glad to hear that they're not often riled up."
"What are your plans?" Santos asked.
Rick shrugged. "It is hard to know where to begin. Before we plan our campaign to locate the place where we dig, we must survey the terraces. Is there any sort of field where I could land at Banaue?"
"No," Santos replied with great positiveness. "Once you see the terraces you will see for yourself that there is no place."
Rick stood up and Scotty followed suit. "I think perhaps we had better fly over to Banaue and see the terraces. Then we will have a better understanding of our problems. Thank you for your hospitality, Mr. De los Santos."
"It is nothing. But tell me. Isn't there another in your party? Another American?"
"Yes. How did you know?"
"Oh, the Assistant Secretary of the Interior phoned personally. He described all of you, and said to do everything possible to make your visit interesting and successful."
"That was very good of him," Rick said. "We will be back again, perhaps tomorrow. Will you be here?"
"I believe so. If I am not, it will be because I am inspecting a road section. Never am I gone long."
Santos lingered to give instructions in the native language to one of his men, and Rick took advantage of the few seconds to whisper to Scotty:
"I'll stall him. Get back to the plane. Have Angel make a deal with those Igorot boys to keep an eye on the road. I want another spy in Bontoc besides someone we know is Lazada's man. You know what's needed."
Scotty did. He hurried off to do what was necessary. Rick waited for Santos, then asked the commissioner to point out the road to Banaue. "I plan to follow the road in my plane. Do you think that is all right?"
Santos did. "You may lose the road in the clouds as you cross the top of the mountain range that divides the Igorot tribe from the Ifugaos, but you should then be able to see Banaue. Will you come back here after you have seen the terraces?"
"Not today. We probably will be back tomorrow in a jeep. The plane is handy, but we can't land at Banaue, you say."
"You will see. And I will see you tomorrow. Then you can tell me how the terraces look from the air."
"Better still," Rick promised. "Next time I have the plane here, I'll take you to see for yourself."
Scotty winked as Santos and Rick approached the plane, and Rick knew that Scotty and Angel had been able to make a deal with Pilipil, the Igorot boy, and his friend. The party shook hands with Santos, then climbed into the plane. The crowd of natives moved away from the road as Rick started the engine, then turned the plane and taxied down the road to the take-off point he had selected. He was a little nervous, for fear a child might dart into the road while he was picking up flying speed, but the crowd was well-disciplined and held steady as the Sky Wagon roared past and climbed.
"We now have Pilipil and his pal working for us," Scotty said when they were air-borne.
"They're smart boys," Angel added. "They'll be able to report on every car and every person passing through Bontoc from now until we get back."
Rick nodded. "Good. But I'm still worried. We've done everything we could think of, but there's no pay-off. We still haven't found Tony. We were sure whoever kidnaped him would head for the Ifugao country, but there were no sedans on the road today. How do we know Tony isn't hidden somewhere near Baguio? How do we know he's still alive?"
Scotty put a hand on his shoulder. "Why wouldn't he be alive? Who would gain anything by his death? We have to remember that the gimmick in this whole business is a golden skull. Nast wants it, Nangolat wants it, Lazada wants it, and we want it. No one has it."
Rick gained altitude steadily, keeping an eye on the twisting road below. "All right. I'll go along with your reasoning. Whoever wants the golden skull has to go to Banaue to find it. It can't be found—unless by a lucky accident—without the earth scanner. And who has the scanner?"
"Nangolat."
"Can he use it?"
"No."
Rick shrugged. "Tony can use the scanner, though. We suspect that Nast has Tony. The question is what is the relationship between Nangolat and Nast?"
Below the Sky Wagon the high green mountains marched in a series of ridges from horizon to horizon. This was the divide between Igorot and Ifugao country. Rick let the conversation lag as he searched below and ahead for a landmark. There was a little cloud cover around him, as Santos had predicted.
Then the cloud was past and the three looked down into the great valley of Banaue.
Rick and Scotty gasped. It was incredible! As far as they could see, the mountains on either side of the valley were sculptured into irregular green steps, or terraces. The smallest terrace was perhaps only a few feet square, while the larger ones were the size of a football field. They rose in an irregular triangle right to the base of the clouds. There was no particular pattern. The Ifugao farmers had simply used every possible inch of space to make terraces for the growing of rice. In some places the step from one terrace to the next was only a foot or two. In other places the step up to the terrace above was forty feet.
The retaining walls of the terraces were native stone, irregular pieces laid together by expert Ifugao masons without benefit of mortar or concrete. The same method had been used to make the great wall of China.
Rick found his voice. "I've seen pictures, but they didn't tell even part of the story. This is fantastic!"
"It's the most wonderful job of engineering I've ever seen," Scotty agreed. "And when you think that the engineers are primitive people, with only hand tools, that makes it even more wonderful."
Angel Manotok had seen the terraces before, he said, but added, "I'm glad to see them from the air. You can understand now why Santos said there was no place to land."
Rick certainly could understand. The only level places in the entire valley were the flat surfaces of the terraces, and no terrace was large enough to land on. In fact, most terraces were too small even for a carabao, the native water buffalo, to drag a plow across them. The Ifugao rice planters had to farm their terraces by hand.
There was no use looking for a landing place in the immediate vicinity of Banaue.
"We'd better take a swing down the valley, just to get a good look, then head back for Baguio," Rick said.
"Good idea," Scotty agreed. "We need to lay some plans and then get busy. Can you fly fairly low?"
"Yes. There's room enough in the valley to make turns, so we won't get trapped. Let's go down and look."
The town of Banaue was easy to find. A double row of stores was situated on a single unpaved street atop a slight plateau in the valley bottom. The Sky Wagon sped over it, bringing the storekeepers and their few customers running out to look.
"The Ifugaos live in villages around the valley," Angel said. He pointed to one or two of them, clinging to the mountainside between terraces. The huts were of straw bundles, discolored by smoke and dust. "The stores have kerosene, thread, matches, tobacco, salt, oil, perhaps a little cloth. The Ifugaos do not need much—or, if they need it, they do not know that they do."
Rick thought that one over as he climbed out of the valley and set a compass course south to Baguio. The course would intersect the Bontoc Road, which he would then follow into town.
"What's our next step?" he asked.
"We've got to find Tony, of course. I have a hunch that we weren't thorough enough in looking over the Bontoc Road. Nangolathadto be on it. Where else could he go? Or where elsewouldhe go?"
"That lumber could have been camouflage," Angel offered.
Rick's first reaction was to ask what lumber, then he remembered that an Army truck like theirs, but loaded with lumber, had been on the Bontoc Road.
"Of course! Who would suspect a load of lumber, especially since this is lumber country?"
Scotty nodded. "It's possible. Tomorrow we'll go back to Bontoc, and if Nangolat was driving that lumber truck, Pilipil and company will know it. Tonight we'll cover Baguio again to make sure our enemies aren't still around. Perhaps we can find Chahda."
"If we haven't found Dr. Briotti by tomorrow night," Angel said, "we should go to the police."
"There's someone else we'll visit first," Rick said grimly. "And that's Mr. Irineo Lazada!"
The hotel had received no word of Tony Briotti. Rick and Scotty hadn't really expected any word. They were certain that he had been kidnaped by Nast. Even the reason for the kidnaping was no longer important. What was important was to rescue Tony.
Angel Manotok left before the boys were ready for dinner. He hoped to pick up some information at various places he knew around town. Perhaps gossip which might be useful. Perhaps someone had seen something unusual which could have a bearing on the young archaeologist's disappearance. Angel promised to report back later. He would spend the night in Tony's room.
Rick and Scotty decided to have dinner, and then talk with some of the local Americans about the best place to buy a jeep. If possible, they wanted to pick one up after dinner, get it ready to travel, and have it standing by the next morning early.
They did not talk much at dinner. They were more worried about Tony than either of them would admit, and Rick was feeling a little ill at ease because they hadn't notified the police. He had talked it over with Angel, but the Filipino guide had said, "We'll have to notify them sooner or later, but it will do no good."
"Perhaps we should notify the American ambassador at Manila," Rick said aloud.
"We should have notified him long before this," Scotty agreed. "But we always try to do everything ourselves. I guess we'll never learn."
Angel Manotok appeared in the dining room, eyes searching for the boys. Rick saw him and waved. Angel came over and slid into a seat. Apparently he had seen a doctor, because the bandage around his head was a new one.
"Friend of yours coming this way," he said. "Probably will have dinner here. Lazada."
Scotty's lips tightened. "I'll be glad to see him," he assured Angel. "I want to ask him about his pal Nast."
Rick's eyes opened wide. "No need," he said. "Look at the door."
There, just entering were Lazada and Nast, arm in arm!
The boys waited until they were seated, then walked over to join them.
"Good evening," Rick said. "I hope you gentlemen are well."
Lazada and Nast smiled. The Assistant Secretary nodded. "Both quite well, thank you. And how are you?"
"Oh, I'm fine," Rick said. "But my friend is giving me a little trouble." He pulled a chair out from Lazada's table and sat down. Scotty followed suit. Rick was close to Lazada, while Scotty's chair was nearer to Nast.
"Your friend is giving you trouble?" Lazada asked. "Which friend?"
"This one," Rick said, motioning to Scotty. "He wants to kill Mr. Nast. I don't think we should kill Mr. Nast, do you?"
Lazada smiled. "Ask him."
Rick turned to Nast. "Do you have an opinion, Mr. Nast?"
Nast was a little pale, but his voice was steady enough. "I certainly do. I agree with you, Mr. Brant."
Rick grinned mirthlessly. "You do? I'm glad. Instead of killing you, I suggested to Scotty that we cripple you. Perhaps a few compound fractures of the arms and legs."
Rick could see that neither Lazada nor Nast were as composed as they seemed. The calm, unearthly discussion was too bizarre. Threats were something they understood, but not threats like this.
Scotty spoke for the first time. He addressed Nast. "Because you're a fellow American I thought the decent thing to do would be just to kill you outright."
Nast shuddered visibly. "You're both joking, of course. But it isn't a very funny joke, I assure you."
Rick smiled. "No, it isn't very funny. But neither is Dr. Briotti's disappearance. You'd better tell us where he is."
"What makes you think Mr. Nast knows?" Lazada asked.
Rick considered. They had no proof. No one had seen Nast in the sedan that had taken Tony from the airport. The boys saw movement at the entrance to the dining room and realized that two Filipinos were watching them like hawks, and that the hands in their pockets certainly held pistols.
Rick shifted tactics. "Do you have much faith in your bodyguards?"
Lazada raised his eyebrows. "Faith? Of course. They are loyal to me. If anyone tries to get close to me without my permission, they step in and remove that person. Or, if anyone should try violence...."
Rick smiled. "How good do you think they would be against a sniper with a rifle five hundred yards away?"
"Obviously, they would be ineffective."
"Just the point I wanted to make," Rick agreed. "You realize, of course, that there is no protection against assassination, except to take refuge in a fortress of some kind and stay there. That's impossible for a public figure like yourself."
"True. Your point, then, is what?"
"That Dr. Briotti has friends with rifles. It would distress us to find that he had been harmed."
"It would distress me," Lazada assured them. "I was very much impressed by Dr. Briotti's knowledge and enthusiasm. I assume that you think I have some knowledge about his disappearance. I do not."
"Me either," Nast added hastily.
Lazada's round face glistened with perspiration. "I will control my anger, Mr. Brant. I take your age into account. Allow me to remind you, however, that I am an official of the Philippine Government and that you are an alien. You are here on sufferance, and you have only such rights as you can persuade us to give you. Oh, I know there are agreements. But let us be realistic. Do not force me to lose my temper and do something for which I would be sorry."
"All right." Rick rose. "I'm not as enthusiastic about this expedition as I used to be, but we're going through with it, anyway, starting tomorrow. The sooner we finish, the better for everybody." He looked at Nast. "Except you. I can only promise you that your pal Lazada will never be able to give you the golden skull to smuggle into China."
The boys walked back to their own table and left Nast and Lazada staring after them. That would give them something to chew over, Rick thought.
"I'm not sure that we were smart," Scotty said when they were seated once more. "I'm sure Nast had something to do with Tony's disappearance, but I can't tell you why I'm sure. Was it wise to throw it up to them?"
Rick shrugged. "Maybe not. But it's done now."
The boys slept with locked windows and doors, but they slept soundly. Down the hall, Angel also regained strength and optimism while he slept, so that the three awoke the next morning with a determination to make some real progress. They had followed their plans and obtained a jeep the night before. But they would need blankets and warmer clothing, unless their supplies could be recovered.
Over breakfast, Scotty estimated their chances. "Suppose we find out that the truck is somewhere in the Ifugao country. Would that guarantee our getting it back? No, it would not. So, we'd better write off the stuff in the truck as lost."
Fortunately, stores open early in Baguio, and the boys were able to buy the things they needed. Scotty also bought an extra five-gallon gasoline can for the jeep. Then Angel and Scotty loaded their few belongings into the vehicle, shook Rick's hand, and headed for Bontoc.
They had agreed that it might be convenient to have the Sky Wagon at Bontoc, too, so Rick would fly up later, planning to arrive at about the same time. Now, he sat down in the hotel lobby and penned a note to the American ambassador, describing the events of yesterday and telling of their future plans. He gave the note to the desk clerk, with instructions that it was not to be sent for three days.
Rick figured that at the end of that time he would either reclaim the note, or that all of them would be in need of help, and the American ambassador would get the letter and use it as a reason for sending a strong note to the Philippine Government, or maybe call out the Marines, the Navy, and the Air Force. Rick was a little vague on just what would happen.
The note written, he tried to read for a while. Scotty and Angel were not well started, and it would be pointless for him to go on to Bontoc alone. He wondered where Chahda was, and what he was doing. The Hindu boy had his own way of operating, and it was one Rick and Scotty could not hope to copy. Chahda had the gift of mimicry. He could fade into a new background as though he belonged to it.
Rick hoped that Chahda, somehow, was keeping a protective eye on Tony.
He couldn't read. He tried napping, but that was no good, either. At last, unable to remain idle a moment longer, he took a taxi to the airport, topped off the Sky Wagon's tanks with gas, checked the plane thoroughly, got a weather report and took off.
He climbed to fifteen thousand feet and scanned the terrain for landmarks. He spotted Mount Panay to the west, verifying its name on the map. Then he picked up the Bontoc Road and searched for the highest point, where it emerged from the valleys and swung across a peak over seven thousand feet above sea level.
If he had estimated Scotty's travel time correctly, the jeep should just now be emerging into the brilliant sunlight of the peaks. He wished for binoculars, but they had failed to bring any, one of those oversights that happen on any expedition.
There was a little traffic on the road. A car of some kind was at the peak, probably stopped to allow the occupants to see the magnificent view. Then he saw that the car was being driven off the road into a grove of trees just beyond the peak. That was odd.
He identified the jeep. In a moment or two it would be at the peak. He would go down and wave. Then he would go back to the airport, have lunch, and fly on to Bontoc. That way, he would get there only slightly ahead of Scotty and Angel.
He lost altitude. Below, men were getting out of the car which had driven into the scant cover of a scrub-pine grove. Rick watched as they walked to the peak. Sunlight reflected from metal. Probably lunch boxes, he thought. The men were going to have their picnic lunch while looking over the wonderful mountains of northern Luzon. Good idea. Probably that was why they had parked the car off the road.
Then he saw that they were not stopping at the peak, but were taking positions along the road a short distance beyond it. Again, sunlight glinted from metal as one of them sat down in a copse just off the road.
Sweat suddenly poured on Rick's forehead. He wasn't watching simple picnickers! He was watching an ambush being set up—and it could only be for one vehicle, because there was only one in sight along the miles of twisting highway.
Scotty and Angel!
Rick spun the Sky Wagon up on a wing and let it slide. He held the slide for long moments while the altimeter ticked off the lost altitude. Not until it registered eight thousand feet did he level off, only a thousand feet above the mountaintops. For a moment he couldn't see Scotty and Angel, then he saw them climbing toward the peak at a good speed. In about twenty seconds they would reach it.
He gauged the amount of clearance he had. It wasn't much. Then he put the stick forward and dove for the road. He leveled off so low that his prop wash kicked up dust. The jeep seemed to rush at him and he had a glimpse of Scotty's surprised face, then he was roaring up in a climb that flattened him against the seat. He leveled off and looked for the jeep. It was still moving ahead.
Rick groaned. Scotty thought he was just playing! He should have written a note and dropped it, but now there was no time. The jeep would be in the ambush before he could let his friends know why he had buzzed them.
He was helpless. There wasn't anything in the Sky Wagon that he could throw at the enemy. But he could at least try to make them keep their heads down. He roared in for the attack, aiming at the places where the attackers waited.
The ambushers had the advantage. All they had to do was sit still. Rick could not hurt them without cracking up the plane and actually landing on them. Still, it was terrifying to have the plane roar past scarcely two feet above one's head, and Rick knew the attackers would be worried about the possibility of an accident.
One man had weak nerves. On Rick's second pass he stood up and ran, heading for the comforting shelter of the trees. Scotty saw him. The jeep braked to a halt.
Instantly the ambushers opened fire. Scotty and Angel jumped from the exposed jeep and took to the ditch. Rick dove at the riflemen again and saw them shoot at him.
He gained a little altitude and circled, estimating the situation. There were four attackers, counting the one who had run for the car. That left three effective ones. Scotty and Angel were unarmed, a grave mistake. They should have purchased weapons. However, since he had been able to warn them, the attack had failed. They were in good cover, and as long as he was overhead, ready to dive on the attackers if they should try for a better position, the two were all right.
Rick thought he saw a way out. At least there was no harm in trying. He took the pad of paper he kept in the door pocket and printed a message to the attackers.
YOU HAVE LOST. NO MATTER WHICH WAY YOU GO, I CAN FOLLOW. I CAN HAVE THE POLICE TRAP YOU AT BONTOC OR BAGUIO. I CAN CARRY POLICE TO BONTOC FASTER THAN YOU CAN DRIVE THERE. BUT IF YOU LEAVE YOUR RIFLES IN THE ROAD, GO TO YOUR CAR, AND HEAD FOR BAGUIO, I WILL DO NOTHING.
YOU HAVE LOST. NO MATTER WHICH WAY YOU GO, I CAN FOLLOW. I CAN HAVE THE POLICE TRAP YOU AT BONTOC OR BAGUIO. I CAN CARRY POLICE TO BONTOC FASTER THAN YOU CAN DRIVE THERE. BUT IF YOU LEAVE YOUR RIFLES IN THE ROAD, GO TO YOUR CAR, AND HEAD FOR BAGUIO, I WILL DO NOTHING.
He searched for a weight and found his emergency fishing kit, a war surplus item which he carried in case he might someday find himself at a good fishing spot without tackle. From the kit he extracted a heavy sinker. A piece of fishing line completed the rig. He lashed the sinker to the folded paper. Now to toss it out so it would land among the attackers. He swung low over the road, gauging his distance. When he saw the peak rushing at him he released the weighted paper, climbed swiftly, and saw one of the attackers run to get it.
Apparently it made sense to the three men. They talked among themselves for a moment, then carried their rifles to the middle of the road and went to the car. Scotty and Angel realized that something was going on, but prudently remained under cover. Not until the ambushers' car roared past on the way to Baguio did they emerge and wave at Rick. He waggled his wings, then turned and made a beeline for the city. He wanted guns and ammunition, and there was no time like the present to buy them!
Rick got guns, but it took time. There were no sporting goods stores in Baguio. In fact, there were no stores that carried rifles. A few carried pistols, mostly Italian and English makes. But Rick knew that a pistol is better for morale than for actual use. Few people can hit anything with a pistol, and fewer still can hit a moving target.
He supposed that Scotty and Angel had picked up the rifles of the ambushers, but since he didn't know the calibers, he couldn't get ammunition for them. What he finally procured were a shotgun, 12-gauge with an ample supply of shells, and a United States Army carbine, with about ten clips. These were private purchases from a store owner who was willing to sell his personal arsenal.
It was late when Rick got started for Bontoc. He watched for Scotty and Angel on the road but failed to catch up with them. They had reached Bontoc before him, as he found when he circled to land. They cleared the road and stood by while he brought the Sky Wagon down.
Angel had already hired two Igorots to guard the plane. They were tough-looking customers who wore hard-rock miner's helmets, a sign that they had mined gold in Baguio.
The Sky Wagon was pulled off the road into a field and the Igorots sat down next to it, short spears handy to their reach. The plane would be all right. Rick got into the jeep with Scotty and Angel, and the first thing he saw was their collection of armaments. They had four rifles, two of them old Army Springfield rifles, and two carbines.
"We are now well armed," he said. "Where's the enemy?"
"After that ambush," Scotty replied, starting the motor, "I'm no longer sure. We certainly didn't expect that."
"I think we brought it on ourselves," Rick said. "Last night we gave Lazada and Nast a hard time. I'll bet Lazada sent out that expedition just for laughs." A thought struck him. "By the way, where are the two Igorot boys you hired yesterday? How come they aren't guarding the plane?"
"We thought we'd take them with us, as extra hands," Scotty explained. "They live at the southern edge of town. We're going there now. We've already talked with Pilipil. He's getting a third boy for us to hire."
"Hey, take it easy," Rick complained. "Explain as you go. What did Pilipil say, and why the third boy?"
"Our truck has gone over the mountain into Ifugao country. It was the lumber truck, as we might have known. Nangolat was driving, and Tony and a third man were with them. That was yesterday. We didn't tell Pilipil and his friend to follow the truck, so they didn't. But a third Igorot boy did follow, and he returned to Bontoc this morning. He's with Pilipil now. We'll go pick them up and head for Banaue. And we'll get Tony."
Rick was still a little confused, but he guessed Scotty knew what he was talking about. "Who is the Igorot who trailed our truck?"
"Don't know. He was sleeping at Pilipil's when we got here."
Ahead, Pilipil was standing in front of a board shack, waving. It was evidently his home. The jeep pulled up and Rick, Scotty, and Angel got out. Pilipil shook hands all around. "You come in," he said. "We talk. Make plan."
He led the way into the shack. Within, two other young Igorots were seated cross-legged on the floor. One of them was Pilipil's friend, Balaban, who had been with him on the day they first landed.
The third Igorot—as might have been expected—was Chahda.
Scotty pointed to the Hindu boy, who was watching them with an impassive stare, as though he had never seen them before.
"Pilipil, how do you know this boy good? Can be trusted?"
Pilipil shrugged and showed betel-stained teeth in a smile. "Not know. Maybe no good. But say he know you."
Scotty looked stern. "You. What have you to say for yourself?"
"Plenty," Chahda said. "Am plenty tired of pulling Spindrift chestnuts out of fire. You know how cold it gets in these mountain? Last night I freeze. I almost attack whole Ifugao village barehanded, just to get blankets from supplies on truck. Tonight you take off clothes, put on breechcloth, and stand out in cold. I stay in nice warm hotel, in Baguio. Worrold Alm-in-ack say this tropical country. Hah! Like North Pole is tropical."
Rick and Scotty grinned sympathetically. "If you weren't so in love with being mysterious and adventurous," Rick pointed out, "you could sleep in comfortable beds in warm rooms. But no. You have to be Chahda the Vanishing Hindu. And a good thing, too, otherwise Scotty and I would be floundering most of the time, not knowing where to turn next. Is Tony okay?"
Chahda rose. He looked astonishingly like Pilipil and Balaban. From haircut to bare feet he was an Igorot. Only his brown eyes, proportionally bigger than those of the real Igorots, were different.
"Tony is okay. Or was last night. My pal Dog Meat is keeping eye on him. You see Nast?"
"In Baguio, last night." Scotty told Chahda of their visit with Nast and Lazada.
Chahda nodded. "Nast and Nangolat in cahoots. Nast picks up Tony at airport, takes him to hut near Trinidad Valley. I see all this. At hut is Nangolat, with truck of lumber. Nast turns Tony over to Nangolat, so I drop Nast and follow Tony. Me and Dog Meat, we have fine time. You fly overhead, too, but see nothing. Not even me. You getting blind, I think. Lose famous Brant eyesight."
"We saw the lumber truck," Rick admitted. "But where were you?"
"Little way behind in jeep."
Rick remembered that they had seen a couple of jeeps on the road but had paid no attention. He could see now what had probably happened. Nangolat, after stealing the earth scanner, had taken the truck to the hut at Trinidad Valley and camouflaged it with lumber. Tony had gone to the airport, but had not found Nangolat—he had found Nast. But why? Rick put the question aloud.
"Mix up in schedule," Chahda said. "Nast and Nangolat were to meet at airport and wait for all of you. Catch whole lot at once when you go to airport in the morning. But Nangolat has luck, and he gets earth scanner. He takes truck to Trinidad, so you won't find it and get scanner back. Nast comes to airport in morning, and finds no Nangolat, but he finds Tony. So he takes Tony and goes to Trinidad Valley to hut which he knows about, and there is Nangolat."
"How do you know all this?" Scotty demanded.
Chahda grinned. "From Nast. He reports to Lazada by telephone. I listen. Easy. Who would think poor Igorot boy know anything?"
Rick shook his head in admiration. Leave it to Chahda. "Now what, Master Spy?"
Chahda motioned to Pilipil and Balaban. "We three mighty Igorot warriors. Tonight we lead you to Ifugao, and we get Tony and the truck and our other stuffs. Then we get to work and find this golden skull."
"You mean we just walk in and take Tony away from the Ifugaos?" Scotty demanded.
"Not that simple," Chahda said. "Ifugaos not wanting to give Tony up, I think. First he help them find sacred stuff lost for many generations, then they need new head to sacrifice to sacred stuff, so they use his. Neat, huh? I think we don't get Tony back without a fight."
The terraced mountain wall fell away below to the valley floor. Halfway between Rick and the dark sheen of the river was a level area which Chahda said was the village. However, it was too dark to see very much.
"We'll break our necks if we try to climb around among these terraces," Scotty whispered.
Chahda admitted, "Good possibility. But what else is there? Later moon will be up a little. We not go down yet. Study lay of land."
They had left their jeeps on the roadway that passed above the village. So far as they knew, no one had seen them approach. Now, perhaps a hundred feet above the cluster of huts, they sat at the edge of a terrace and waited for the moon to rise.
Rick studied the landscape below. His feet dangled over thirty feet of vertical wall. He would have to make his way down that wall to the next terrace, and then down the next and the next until he emerged at the village level. He would be very much like an ant climbing down the three stone steps at home, except that he wasn't as sure-footed as an ant on vertical surfaces.
Then, once the bottom was reached, they had to find Tony, free him, and take him up the terraces to the jeeps. Rick shook his head. They probably would have to fight every inch of the way, and there was no assurance that they would make it.
In the village below, someone was adding wood to a small open fire in the central area that served as a village common. Rick could make out several figures. Scotty moved closer to him. "We need a way to cover our retreat. Any ideas?"
"No good ones. We could station a couple of the gang to heave rocks down."
"That's probably as good as anything."
A shadowy figure approached, climbing down the terraces from above. Chahda whispered, "Dog Meat come. I go see what he finds out."
Below, the fire was burning more brightly, and Rick could see several persons bringing wood. Apparently there was to be a large bonfire. He groaned softly. That meant light to make their task harder.
Chahda consulted with his friend for a few moments, then rejoined Rick and Scotty. Angel, Pilipil, and Balaban were grouped at the rear of the terrace, waiting for instructions.
"Dog Meat know which hut Tony is in. Has two guards. Nangolat gone somewhere."
"Why are they building up the fire?" Rick asked.
"Not know. I think better we move. We climb down. Dog Meat will take us to Tony. We cut him loose and fight our way back."
Suddenly they stiffened as a rhythmic metallic clanging sound floated up to them.
Angel Manotok moved to their side. "Ifugao music," he whispered. "I've heard it before. The instruments aretinaklings, like pans, suspended from human jawbones. They're getting ready for some kind of ceremony down there."
"Then we'll wait," Scotty said. "If they get started on some kind of ceremony, we may have a chance to move in quietly."
"That makes sense," Rick agreed, and Chahda nodded.
They crouched on the edge of the terrace and watched as the fire below grew into a roaring blaze. Men and women could be seen clearly now. The musicians—if the clanging could be called music—were next to the fire. Then, the people fell back, and six men and six women took their places in two lines and began to dance. It was a stiff, formal sort of dance with little body movement. Hands and arms made gestures which Rick could not interpret, while the feet shuffled slowly in the dust.
Scotty touched his shoulder. "Let's go. Chahda, you, Rick, Dog Meat, and I will go. Angel, Pilipil, and Balaban will stay here to cover our retreat. Angel, you can use a rifle. Have Pilipil and Balaban pry loose some big rocks. Use your own judgment. We don't want a war, but we don't want to lose our heads, either."
"How about our truck?" Rick asked.
Chahda replied. "It is not here. Nangolat took it. We get Tony, then we take the road Nangolat took. Dog Meat knows."
The fire was bright enough so Rick could see Dog Meat for the first time. The little Igorot was an older edition of Pilipil. He wore only a breechcloth and the little pillbox hat in which he kept his matches and tobacco. His face was wrinkled and gnomelike.
"Lead on," Rick said.
Dog Meat went to the edge of the terrace and slipped over. He climbed down with incredible swiftness. Then Chahda followed. Rick made sure his carbine was slung tightly across his back, then followed. His feet groped for toe holds in the rough stone wall of the terrace and found them without too much difficulty, but his descent was slower than Dog Meat or Chahda's. He was painfully conscious that he was an excellent target. Below, chanting voices joined the rhythmic clanging. The sound of their descent would not be heard.
Rick reached the bottom of the terrace and found Chahda and Dog Meat waiting. There were two more terraces to descend before the village level was reached. In a moment Scotty joined them. Dog Meat led the way once more. The party made its way down the face of the terrace and emerged on a level only thirty feet above the village floor.
Rick was astonished that the villagers had not seen them. He felt very much exposed to view, even though he realized that the shadows were deep and that the villagers were not watching the terraces.
Dog Meat led the way to the extreme end of the next terrace, choosing a place where the huts would be between the climbers and the fire. Then he vanished over the edge of the terrace and Chahda followed. Rick picked his way carefully. There were gaps between the stones, but sometimes he had to feel with his feet until he found an opening big enough to accommodate the toe of his shoe. Dog Meat and Chahda had the advantage, because bare feet could find holds much more swiftly.
He reached ground level behind a straw hut. Dog Meat and Chahda were waiting. Chahda had unslung his rifle, and Dog Meat was holding a razor-edged bolo. Then Scotty was down, too, and they made a close file behind Dog Meat as he showed them the way to the hut where Tony was being held.
The music and voices were loud, now, and the fire made yellow patterns where they crossed open spaces. Then Dog Meat came to a halt behind a straw hut and gestured that this was the one.
Chahda took the bolo from him and made a slit in the straw of the hut. Then he peered through the opening he had made. Rick and Scotty pushed close and took turns looking.
Tony was tied to a post in the center of the hut. The hut door opened onto the village common, and the only light was that of the fire. Blocking the light were two figures, Ifugao guards, clad only in breechcloths. Both held spears. Unlike the Igorot spears, the Ifugao weapons were tall with flared points.
Chahda sliced through the straw of the hut with the bolo, parted it, and stepped through. Rick was close on his heels, rifle unslung and ready for use. He felt Scotty crowding him.
The Hindu boy ran to Tony, knelt, and cut his bonds. Rick lifted his rifle and reached the front of the hut in three long strides. The barrel of his weapon descended on the head of the nearest Ifugao. Rick caught the man as he fell.
The second Ifugao turned, mouth open to yell, and stepped right into a vicious butt stroke from Scotty's rifle. Chahda was already ushering Tony through the opening at the rear of the hut. The boys pushed through and followed at a trot as Dog Meat guided them back the way they had come. The music was still loud. No one had seen the guards go down.
The party reached the first terrace and stopped while Tony massaged his hands. The rope had cut off the circulation. Finally he motioned that he was ready. He could climb, but slowly. At a whispered word from Chahda, Rick and Scotty went up the terrace wall and took stations with ready rifles, in case they should be spotted while Tony was helpless on the wall.
Tony reached the top of the first terrace and whispered that he could move faster now. Chahda and Dog Meat took him to the easiest place to climb the second wall, while Rick and Scotty waited as a rear guard.
Tony was halfway up the second terrace when pandemonium broke loose in the village below. The boys saw the dance break up, saw men rush into the hut where Tony had been held prisoner and drag out the guards, one of whom had regained consciousness. The men of the village scattered into various huts and came out with spears and bolos.
Rick looked up in time to see Tony's legs disappear over the top of the terrace wall. He tugged Scotty's arm. "Let's go."
They swarmed up the wall as fast as their groping hands and feet would allow, but not before a spear clanged off the stones between them. They had been spotted!
Chahda leaned over and grabbed Rick's hand. Rick went up in a hurry, then both of them pulled Scotty up. Ifugaos were already on the terrace below!
Rick realized that the Ifugaos had the advantage. They were used to the terraces. He also realized that they could be where he now stood before Tony could get up to where Angel and the Igorots waited.
He and Scotty unslung their rifles. Chahda joined them, bolo in hand. Dog Meat would help Tony up. The boys spread out, working by hand signals. They were a short distance back from the terrace edge, but close enough to swing at any heads that appeared.
The first Ifugao pursuer came up the wall near Chahda. The Hindu boy swung with the flat of his bolo and there was athunkas he connected. Then Rick saw a face appear and poked at it with the muzzle of his rifle. The face vanished and there was a scream as the Ifugao fell.
Rick winced. It was a long fall, but at least there was soft ground of the rice paddy at the bottom.
Another face appeared and Rick swung his rifle barrel, felt it connect, then answered Angel's yell. "Come on!"
Scotty triggered off half a dozen shots, then the three boys ran for the wall and started up. From above, Angel and Tony yelled encouragement. Angel's rifle blazed away. Pilipil, Tony, and Balaban threw rocks.
A spear, badly thrown, came sideways through the air and caught Rick across the legs. He almost lost his footing, but recovered and went up another step. He didn't dare look down. He knew the Ifugaos were on the terrace below, but to look down was to lose time. He went up another few feet, then got stuck unable to find a handhold.
A hand grabbed him by the ankle! He yelled and kicked. Angel appeared right over his head and dropped a rock. The rock brushed Rick and found its target. There was a wild cry and the grip on his ankle was gone. He moved laterally along the wall until he could move upward again. Angel and Pilipil caught his arms and pulled him to the top. Chahda arrived at almost the same moment, then Scotty appeared.
Rick unslung his rifle. "Let's go! Make a run for it."
Scotty called, "Angel! Chahda! Go get the jeeps started."
They had Chahda's jeep as well as their own. Rick caught Tony's arm. "Are you all right?"
"Yes. Fine. Where do we go?"
"Follow Chahda. Scotty and I will bring up the rear."
Ifugaos poured over the terrace edge and were met by Pilipil and Balaban. Scotty and Rick joined in, rifles flailing, and in a moment the terrace was clear again. The temporary victors took to their heels before the next wave of Ifugaos could arrive.
Ahead, they heard the jeeps' motors. They would make it all right.
A spear arched overhead and stuck quivering in the road. Rick snatched it out of the ground as he passed. Then there was a gasp from Pilipil as a spear caught him in the thigh. Instantly Scotty knelt, rifle blazing. Rick and Balaban helped Pilipil while Dog Meat yanked the spear free. They rushed the wounded Igorot to the waiting jeeps.
"Let's go," Chahda yelled. "What's the delay?"
"Lend a hand," Rick called, and willing hands helped lift Pilipil into Chahda's jeep. Rick tumbled in behind him.
"All aboard!" Scotty yelled. "Take off!" he fired a last shot at the oncoming Ifugaos, then jeep wheels spun in the dirt, headlights flashed on, and they were on their way.
Not until they had climbed to the safety of the mountain peaks overlooking Banaue did they pull to a stop. Pilipil's leg was their first concern. They examined the wound in the glare from the jeep's headlights. It was ugly, but not crippling, and it was already starting to clot. Rick bound it with a clean handkerchief. Then, their wounded taken care of, the boys took time to exchange notes with Tony.
"I walked right into it," Tony said. "Literally. I walked to the airport, expecting that I could ride back with Angel. I had a grave suspicion, of course, that he was Nangolat, but I'm afraid it didn't occur to me that there was any danger in charging him with it."
Rick shook his head. "Did you expect him to give up without a struggle?"
"I'm afraid I did. However, he wasn't there. There was no one on the field at all, except a couple of workmen on the far side. I went over to see if the plane was all right, and a sedan arrived. Nast was in it. He didn't waste words. He just thrust a pistol at me and ordered me in."
"We have an idea of what happened then," Scotty said. "From Chahda. He was following Nast."
"I hoped he was," Tony said. "I was afraid that unless Chahda knew my whereabouts I probably would be completely cut off from help. Well, time enough later for the rest of the story. You know I came from Baguio in our own truck?"
"We know," Rick said. "Chahda again. Now Chahda is going to lead us to the truck, and we're going to get our equipment back."
"Do you know where the truck is?" Scotty asked Chahda.
"Dog Meat does. Nangolat drove it to a village on the north side of the valley. Nangolat is there now. Maybe we meet him on the road, maybe at the village. We make flying raid, okay? Swoop down, take truck, and leave."
"Sounds good to me," Scotty said. "We'll use one jeep to attack, with the other standing by as a flying reserve. Angel, take the reserve jeep with Pilipil and Balaban. No, I've a better idea. We have too many men. We need the extra jeep in case of a breakdown, not for the men it will carry. Pilipil and Balaban should stay here. The rest of us split up between the two jeeps. When we find the truck, I'll drive it, with Chahda as guard. That will leave Rick and Tony in one jeep, and Angel and Dog Meat in the other. Sound all right?"
It sounded fine. Angel spoke up. "I'd rather be in the first jeep, in case we meet Nangolat."
Scotty shook his head. "Not tonight. Your turn will come later, Angel. The first thing is to get the truck back. Pilipil, will you be all right here until we get back?"
"I be fine. You go."
They loaded into the jeeps while Pilipil and Balaban moved into a clump of brush and prepared to wait.
"Don't bother about silence," Scotty said. "We'll just hit and run. If they hear us coming it won't matter, because they won't be sure what we're after."
"How about those Ifugao natives from the village?" Tony asked. "They're probably swarming over the road like flies."
"We not go near them," Chahda replied. "The truck is a different way. Come on, load rifles. We go."
Rick was driving the lead jeep, Chahda on the seat next to him. Tony and Dog Meat were in the rear seat. Scotty was with Angel in the other jeep. The road was reasonably good, although narrow and winding. Rick roared down into the valley as fast as prudence and Newton's laws of motion allowed. Had he gone any faster the jeep would have tipped over on some unexpected corner.
"Soon we there!" Chahda shouted.
Rick kept a sharp watch ahead. The yellow cones of light seemed lost in the vast darkness of Banaue. There were no other lights.
"Watch for fork in road, go left," Chahda relayed Dog Meat's instructions.
The fork appeared. Rick swung left—and almost bashed into the truck. It was parked with lights out, close to a village.
Both jeeps slid to a stop. Scotty and Chahda jumped out, rifles ready, and ran to the truck. "The keys!" Rick yelled. "Are they in it?"
"Don't need keys!" Scotty yelled back. "Turn around, quick!"
Angel was already turning his jeep. Rick followed suit, and his headlights swung in an arc across the Ifugao village and reflected from spear tips. The natives here had been alerted!
The truck roared into life. Rick pulled to one side and motioned Scotty by. Then, as the truck went past, Rick triggered off a half-dozen shots, aiming high. Tony did the same with the shotgun, sending loads of bird shot whistling through the red leaves of the dangla bushes.
A screaming madman leaped at them, spear extended. It was Nangolat, face distorted with hatred and fury. He thrust at Tony, but the archaeologist knocked the spear aside. Then, as Nangolat's thrust carried him close, Tony let loose a roundhouse that caught the Ifugao squarely on the jaw, whirled him sideways, and dropped him like a log in the dust of the road. Then Rick let out the clutch and the jeep leaped ahead. A spear went through the windshield and showered glass on him, but he only squinted his eyes against the flying splinters and fed the jeep more gas.
Ahead were the red taillights of the truck and the other jeep. The plan had worked, all right. He didn't know whether or not their supplies were in the truck, but they would soon find out.
"I'll say one thing about being a Spindrift scientist," Tony said from beside him. "It is never dull. Do you wild Indians go in for this sort of thing often?"
"Only when necessary," Rick said. "Of course it has been necessary pretty often. So we're in practice, you might say."
Tony chuckled. "I'm grateful. You know what Nangolat is working up to, I presume?"
Rick didn't, and said so.
"He planned to force me to locate the golden artifacts with the earth scanner. Then, the find was to be celebrated with the sacrifice of a head. That was the part I objected to most. You see, the head was to be mine!"