by John Blaine
“A Filipino kid.He ran away, got lost, or got kidnaped. No one knows which. His father is a big sugar operator and politician. The kid has been gone for weeks, but the paper is still playing it up at the top of page one.”
Rick snorted.“Headlines for one Filipino boy and page seventeen for two American scientists. Some contrast!”
Hobart Zircon fixed a stamp to his letter and walked over to the boys. “You’re not thinking straight, Rick. Suppose two Filipino scientists were lost in theRocky Mountains , and the son of a leading American citizen was missing. How would our own papers play it?”
Rick had to grin. “Emphasis on the local boy, I suppose. You’re right, Professor. I’m just upset. I’d hoped for more from the consul this morning.
The vice-consul in charge of the case had nothing to add to what they already knew, and had slim hope of obtaining more information. The American ambassador had received assurances from thePhilippines government that all possible aid would be given to the Spindrift search party, and that the constabulary would not give up the hunt. No more could be done. The American consulate had no resources with which to conduct a search.
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“Come on,” Zircon said. “It’s time for lunch. Dr. Okola will be arriving in a few minutes.”
“All right.But I wish we could really get started on our search, or find someone who could help us. Even Chahda hasn’t shown up. We haven’t even had a reply to Dad’s message.”
As they went down to the dining room Scotty pointed out that Chahda might be very hard to reach. “For all we know, he could be in the interior ofMalaya , or some unlikely place. He would come if he could, Rick.”
Rick knew Scotty was right. Chahda had proved his loyalty and friendship more than once. Just the same, he had hoped Chahda would come. The Hindu boy with his “ Worrold Alm-in-ack” education, as he called it, could be a great help. Chahda had not only memorized the entire World Almanac, but he seemed to have a sixth sense about people and places that was always a source of amazement to Rick and Scotty.
Lunch with Dr. Okola was pleasant, even though it did nothing to advance the search. Rick and Scotty reminisced about The Golden Skull expedition with the Filipino archaeologist and enjoyed the hour.
They parted with Dr. Okola’s assurances that he was ready to help in any way he could.
As Rick unlocked the door of their room after lunch, he said, “I guess it’s up to us to . . .” He stopped with a yell of delight as the door swung open. Seated by the window, waiting for them, was a slim, brown-skinned boy in a turban. Chahda!
The Hindu boy pounded them in glee,then shook hands with Zircon. “It is good for old friends to meet,”
Chahda declared, “even in such unhappying soaking-stances.”
“Circumstances,” Rick corrected automatically. “Why didn’t you wire? We thought JANIG hadn’t been able to get our message to you.”
“I was inSingapore with my boss, Carl Bradley,” Chahda explained. “When your message comes, he says go now, Chahda. By the time a message back catches them, so willyou. You know, he right? I get here before you, already two days now.”
“Two days!” Scotty exclaimed. “What have you been doing?”
Chahda bowed. “Scotty, please to be speckfull . You now speak to Raman Sunda , salesman of cloths.”
“I’ll show proper speck,” Scotty said with a grin. “Do you mean clothes?”
“Not clothes.Cloths.Tax-tills.”
“Textiles,” Zircon boomed. “Chahda, what on earth does a Hindu textile salesman have to do with finding Briotti and Shannon?”
“Plenty do with, Professor. In this country is plenty Hindus like me. Many sell tax-tills. So I travel, and listen. Yes?”
Rick still didn’t get it.“But why, Chahda?”
“We face fact you like so much, Rick. Okay? This is country of brown-skinned people, like me. People Page 8
talk to me when they not talk to you. So I go alone toDavao , onislandofMindanao . Is big city, says in ‘
Alm-in-ack.’ Has 111,263 peoples. Some maybe know something, so my friends here, they send me to friend inDavao . He helps me meet people who can maybe help some more. Okay?”
“I should have known,” Rick said with admiration. “Leave it to you to dig up an angle.”
Chahda winked. “Among Hindusis always ideas . Now, I goDavao tonight.You coming too? Okay.
You stay at Apo View Hotel.Is very good. I stay there, too. We not knowing each other for little while, I think. That is why I come into your room with special key my boss gives me to open many doors.
Better I work alone for now.”
Scotty asked, “How much do you know about our friends’ disappearance, Chahda?”
The Hindu boy launched into a concise and rapid summary. Rick wasn’t surprised to find that Chahda knew everything they had found out.
“You never fail to amaze me,” Zircon boomed.
Rick went to his suitcase and drew out the unit of the Megabuck network he had made for Barby. He explained its operation to Chahda, who promptly slid it under his turban where no one could see it.
“Sahib Brant plenty smart to make this,” Chahda intoned. “Poor native boy salutes mighty scientist!” He ducked Rick’s return swing.
Dr. Zircon had gone to his own suitcase. He returned with his pocket-size wire recorder and handed it to Chahda. “I brought this to record conversations in other languages. I think you might stimulate more interesting talk than we could, Chahda. It will record for an hour on a single spool.”
Chahda took the gadget and checked its operation. Rick was amused to see that the “poor native boy”
figured it out in something less than a minute, and put it casually in his coat pocket.
“We meet inDavao ,” Chahda said. He shook hands all around,then paused at the door.“Please, you good friends. I see you worry plenty. We find Tony and Dr. Shannon. You see.” He opened the door and was gone.
Rick breathed a sigh of relief. “I feel better,” he stated. “Just seeing him again makes me feel good.”
“I agree,” Zircon said, “and so does Scotty. Now, we will do a little sight-seeing. I haven’t been in downtownManila for twenty years. We’ll only worry and fret if we stay in this hotel room, so let’s go.”
The three taxied through the old walled city, then across the PasigRiver and intoManila proper. They inspected the Escolta ,principal street in the shopping area, then headed for QuiapoSquare to see the great cathedral and the shops. Traffic was heavy, so they paid the taxi driver and got out and walked.
As they crossed a pedestrian overpass by the cathedral, Scotty said quietly, “In case you were feeling neglected, you can stop. We’re being tailed.” Rick and Zircon were too experienced to pause or show interest. Scotty added, “There’s quite a mob on the sidewalk once we get down from this bridge. Push right into it. I’ll drop out and intercept him. If we’re being tailed, we want to know why.”
The plan was executed smoothly. Rick was never sure when Scotty melted into a convenient doorway.
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After a moment he stopped and looked around. He was in time to see Scotty step from the doorway and confront a small, poorly dressed man who wore a red fez.
Rick and Zircon were at Scotty’s side in an instant.
The man in the red fez reached for a pocket, and Rick tensed to swing if necessary. But the man only drew out a cardboard pillbox. “Plenty bargain for Americans,” he announced.“Me Moro from Sulu.My cousin best pearl diver in Jolo. He get real pearl, I sell. You look.”
He opened the pillbox. Rick sawa half dozen pearls of assorted sizes.
“We’re not interested,” Zircon said flatly. “Sorry. Come on, boys.”
They walked away, leaving the Moro staring after them.
Zircon chuckled. “A common thing, as I recall it. I also seem to remember that most of the pearl-selling Moros inManila are not genuine. They’re Visa- yansfrom Cebu trying to sell phony pearls to
tourists.”
“But he was trailing us,” Scotty insisted.
“I don’t doubt it in the least,” Zircon replied. “He was probably sizing us up to see if we’re tourists or local Americans. Is he trailing us now?”
Scotty took advantage of a plate-glass window to survey the street behind them. “Not that I can see,”
he admitted.
“All right.Let’s not be jumpy, boys. Of course we want to know if, or why, anyone is shadowing us, but I think we have the answer in this case. Let’s let it go at that.”
CHAPTER III
Bagobo Country
Byten o’clock on the following morning Rick and his friends were jouncing along a twisting, bumpy road into the foothills ofMindanao . They had risen with the dawn and taken Philippines Airlines, PAL for short, toDavao . On arrival they had checked in at the Apo View Hotel and had lost no time in finding local constabulary headquarters.
Major Paulo Lacson, in charge of the detachment, had instantly ordered a pair of command cars. Before the Spindrifters quite realized it, they were whisked out of town, en route to the point where Briotti and Shannon had vanished. Colonel Rojas’ letter of introduction had really worked magic.
Rick stared out at the tropical landscape, and toward thepeakofMount Apo , an active volcano over nine thousand feet high, but he didn’t really notice details. In a short while they would be at what he considered the real start of their search.
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The major drove the lead car, with Zircon in front beside him. Rick and Scotty occupied the rear seat.
In the second car were four armed, enlisted men. As the small convoy roared toward the town ofCalinan
, Major Lacson told them all he knew of the case. It was the same information the three had already received, naturally enough, since their information had been based on the officer’s reports.
Rick shook his head worriedly. If Lacson, obviously an intelligent and efficient officer, could find out no more, how could three strangers?
The command car whisked by an abaca plantation, with mile after mile of lush green bananalike abaca plants extending into the foothills.
“Look.” Scotty pointed at drying racks on which Manila hemp fiber, product of the abaca, was drying.
The fiber was a honey blond shade.
“It’s just the color of Barby’s hair,” Rick exclaimed.
Major Lacson explained, “Abaca is graded by color. White is best, but that shade means it is very good.
It will bring a good price.” Then, as the command car topped a rise, the major pointed ahead. “There is Calinan.”
The town was a small one, with stores and houses on both sides of a single main street. The place had a sleepy air.
At the edge of town Lacson drew up in front of a house that flew the flag of the republic. A sergeant ran out, came stiffly to attention, and saluted. After a brief command from the major, the sergeant ran to climb into the second car.
“Juan speaks a little Bagobo,” Lacson explained. “He can translate for us.”
The two cars moved through the town, past a group of colorfully arrayed people with flat turbans.
“There are some Bagobos now,” Lacson said. “They come to town to shop.”
Rick looked with interest. In the few seconds before the car sped out of sight he saw that the primitives were light of skin, had pierced ears from which dangled loops, and that the men wore trousers formed of a single piece of cloth put on like a skirt, then pulled between the legs and fastened to an ornate belt.
Their clothes were brightly colored.
As Calinan dropped behind, the country turned to tropical forest, with tall lauan and tanguile trees, the source of so-called Philippine mahogany.Once Rick saw coffee bushes growing under the trees.
Then, only a short distance from Calinan, the paved road came to an abrupt end and narrowed to little more than a dirt trail. The command car bucked over hummocks of cogon grass while the boys held on to keep from being tossed out. Finally, in a small clearing, the road petered out entirely.
This was the glade, Lacson explained, in which the truck driver had left Briotti and Shannon. No one had seen them since.
Towering trees cut off the sun and the air was heavy and damp with the smell of tropic growth.
Mosquitoes whined.
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Lacson handed around a small bottle of insect repellent. “Rub in well,” he directed. “You can leave your coats in the car. It will be a warm hike.”
Rick shed his coat gladly. They had worn their tropical suits, and Lacson had rushed them off so fast there had been no chance to change.
The major gave orders in Chebucano. Two troopers saluted and fell back. They would stay with the cars. Juan, the trooper from Calinan, took the lead as the rest started up the trail that led into the jungle from the clearing.
“Juan knows the trail,” Lacson said. “Also, he is good at spotting snakes and animals.”
Rick fell into line behind Zircon and Lacson. Scotty walked at his side while the two enlisted men brought up the rear.
It was an eeriehike, through growth so thick one couldn’t see more than five paces on either side of the trail. Overhead the foliage met, and the group walked through a kind of steaming green tunnel. The sun never penetrated to the jungle floor, where pale plants grew in profusion.
There was life in the trees overhead, heard but unseen.Once Rick recognized the howl of monkeys.
Again, by the side of the trail, there was a sudden chittering and a tiny furry form made a fantastic leap to the safety of a rattan vine. Rick caught a glimpse of a monkeylike face and huge eyes.
“A tarsier,” Zircon remarked. “Shannonhad hoped to collect one.”
Rick wondered whether Shannon and Briotti had hiked up this trail. The headman of the Bagobo village had told Lacson that the Americans had not been seen by his people. Might they have vanished on this trail?
He wiped his face and neck with a sodden handkerchief and plodded ahead through the green steam bath. Insects formed a cloud around his head, flew into his eyes and even into his mouth. He bore it stoically. It was as bad for the others.
Anyone who walked off the beaten trails would be helplessly lost without a compass or an experienced guide. A man could wander in the dense growth until death in some unpleasant form claimed him. One couldn’t even see a trail from more than a few feet away.
Half an hour later, Rick saw that the growth was giving way to a different kind of jungle forest, as the trail sloped upward. In a short time they entered a more normal forest of tall, white lauans over a hundred feet high, with strange roots like flying buttresses.
Soon the forest gave way to open plain, sparsely dotted with papaya trees and a lone mango. Lacson called that they were almost at their destination. Rick wiped his face and was grateful. His clothes hung on him as though he had been caught in a torrential rain. In spite of the insect repellent, he had been chewed by assorted bugs.
He forgot his discomfort at the sight of the village. Apparently civilization had reached the Bagobos. The huts were of sawed lumber and tin roofing material. He saw one roof made from an American gasoline sign.
In contrast with the drab surroundings, the people were bright spots of color. They eyed the group with Page 12
frank curiosity,then followed as Juan led the way to the headman’s hut.
The headman met them with dignified courtesy. Rick saw that the man was nearly six feet tall, with a lean, hawklike face, the skin stretched tightly over high cheekbones. He looked like an American Indian, but his skin was the color of a white man who has spent his life outdoors in the tropics. The Bago-bos clearly were of a different race than the Filipinos.
“That’s quite a man,” Scotty whispered.
Rick nodded. He, too, was impressed by the headman, except for one thing. Although the Bagobo talked freely, through Juan, his eyes never once met those of any of the party. He looked everywhere but at the visitors.
> It was out of character, Rick thought. This man, who obviously had a kind of fierce, barbaric pride, should look any man squarely in the eye.
The talk went smoothly, and Rick realized the headman had been through all this before, probably more than once, in interviews with the constabulary. To each question the Bagobo chieftain answered that he had seen no Americans, nor had his people. Had they come to the village, he would know it.
“We’ll get nothing here,” Zircon finally said to the major. “Frankly, I expected nothing. If there was information to be gained from this man, you could have gotten it.”
Lacson shrugged. “True, perhaps. But I thought you would want to check for yourself.”
Rick only half listened. He noticed a Bagobo standing nearby, watching intently, and on impulse walked over to him and held out his hand. The warrior took it instantly andsmiled, his brown eyes on Rick’s.
Rick returned the smile and walked back to his friends, forehead wrinkled in thought. That had been a straightforward reaction; the Bagobo had met his eyes squarely and openly.
On the way back toDavao , Rick pondered the meaning of the headman’s failure to look at any of them.
But not until they were cleaning up at the hotel did he decide to put his thoughts into words.
“The headman lied,” Rick stated. “I can’t figure it any other way. It’s easy to see that the Bagobos are a proud race. They’re any man’s equal, and they know it. The headman should be the proudest of all, but instead, he was shifty. He wouldn’t look at any of us.”
“That’s right,” Scotty acknowledged. “He kept his eyes everywhere but on us.”
Rick nodded. “What’s more, he’s not a shifty type. He looks like a fierce old eagle who’d stare down a charging elephant. But he couldn’t look at us because he was lying, and he was ashamed of it.”
“You may have something,” Zircon agreed after a moment of thought. “I wasn’t that observant, but now that you mention it, I believe the headman kept his eyes on the ground most of the time. I agree it certainly seemed out of character.”
“If he was lying, what can we do about it?” Scotty asked.
