The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Pirates of Shan, by Harold Leland Goodwin This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org Title: The Pirates of Shan Author: Harold Leland Goodwin Release Date: April 19, 2010 [EBook #32059] Language: English Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PIRATES OF SHAN *** Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net THE PIRATES OF SHAN A RICK BRANT SCIENCE-ADVENTURE STORY BY JOHN BLAINE GROSSET & DUNLAP PUBLISHERS NEW YORK, N. Y. 1958 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED Printed in the United States of America Rick wielded the kris with deadly effect Contents CHAPTER I. The Missing Scientists CHAPTER II. The Hindu Merchant CHAPTER III. Bagobo Country CHAPTER IV. The Headman's Secret CHAPTER V. Trail of the "Sampaguita" CHAPTER VI. The Man in the Red Fez CHAPTER VII. News at Zamboanga CHAPTER VIII. The "Swift Arrow" CHAPTER IX. The Moro Knives CHAPTER X. South of Sulu CHAPTER XI. The Dancing Pirates CHAPTER XII. Search the Wide Seas CHAPTER XIII. The Two Datus CHAPTER XIV. The High Fire CHAPTER XV. Plan of Attack CHAPTER XVI. The Black Cliff CHAPTER XVII. The Radio Link CHAPTER XVIII. Under Cover of Darkness CHAPTER XIX. Chahda Sweeps the Sea CHAPTER XX. The Patrol Takes Over The Rick Brant Science-Adventure Stories List of Illustrations Rick wielded the kris with deadly effect The warrior shook Rick's hand and smiled The man's back was tattooed with a strange design "All hands on deck! Pirates!" A sudden jerk would attract the guard's attention Rick braced himself for the shock THE PIRATES OF SHAN CHAPTER I The Missing Scientists "We'd better do something," Rick Brant stated grimly, "and we'd better do it fast." He picked up a stone and threw it far out into the green waters of the Atlantic, a gesture that did little to relieve his worry and anxiety. Don Scott, nicknamed Scotty, said soothingly, "I know how you feel. I feel the same way. But don't forget that Dad is just as worried as we are—maybe even more so, because he feels responsible. Besides, I don't think we have long to wait, not with Colonel Rojas here." Rick knew that his dark-haired pal was right, but inaction, even under ordinary circumstances, made him restless, and now that two staff scientists had mysteriously disappeared, his normal desire to keep things moving swiftly was augmented by fear for their safety. The Spindrift Scientific Foundation, with headquarters on famed Spindrift Island off the New Jersey coast, was regarded by most people as a typical group of scientists, impersonal and efficient, who sometimes made important discoveries or got involved in scientific adventures. But the picture of the Foundation, given mostly through impersonal scientific publications, was wrong. The scientific efficiency and purpose of Spindrift could not be denied. But what the public failed to appreciate was that the staff, headed by Rick Brant's scientist father, was more like a family than a corporation. The center of activity was the big Brant house and the adjoining laboratory on Spindrift Island. The scientists were not only colleagues, but close personal friends. As a consequence, when the staff zoologist, Dr. Howard Shannon, and the staff archaeologist, Dr. Anthony Briotti, failed to turn up on schedule from an expedition to the Sulu Sea, the entire Foundation became personally concerned. All work stopped while the staff speculated on what might have happened, what course of action to take. Rick Brant and his pal Scotty were particularly upset when the days passed and Hartson Brant failed to decide on a course of action. Rick knew, of course, that his father was proceeding logically, obtaining information by cable and phone from the Philippines, but he resented the passing days. "I'm glad Rojas is here," Rick said. "That must mean Dad is making up his mind. And you know what I hope, don't you?" "Same as I do. But don't hope too much. Maybe Dad will decide this is a job for professionals, and not for us." Hartson Brant had returned only a few minutes ago from a hurried trip to New York. He had brought with him Colonel Felix Rojas of the Philippines Constabulary. The tall, slender officer was at present on duty with his country's United Nations delegation. He was an old friend, dating back to the adventure of The Golden Skull when Rick, Scotty, Chahda, and Tony Briotti had gone to the fabulous rice terraces of Ifugao. The colonel was having a belated lunch with Dr. and Mrs. Brant, and Rick's father had indicated politely but firmly that the two boys were not to broach the subject of the missing scientists until the colonel had finished eating. Dr. Brant had promised to call them for the meeting which was to take place immediately after lunch. Both boys were so impatient for the meeting to begin that it seemed to them the others were taking an unduly long time to consume the meal. "Rick, Scotty. Come on into the library." The boys turned swiftly at Hartson Brant's call and hurried from the waterfront to the big Brant house. As they entered, Hobart Zircon was just coming down the stairs from his room. The distinguished nuclear physicist greeted them with a comradely wink. "So you two are attending the meeting too, eh? I have an idea we may be joining forces again." Zircon had shared many adventures with the boys. More than once, his enormous size and legendary strength had gotten them out of a tight spot. The physicist was considerably over six feet tall and built like a fighting bull, and he had a booming voice that fitted his physique. Hartson Brant introduced Zircon to Colonel Rojas, waved the group to seats, and got down to business. He addressed the Filipino officer. "First, let me say for all of us that we are indebted to you for leaving your office on such short notice to give us the benefit of your advice and counsel." "It is nothing. If I can be of help, I will be grateful. Perhaps if you will start at the beginning, it will clarify things." The scientist nodded assent. "I'll be glad to. As I told you on the way over, two of our staff members are missing. You know one of them—Dr. Anthony Briotti. The other is Dr. Howard Shannon, our zoologist. Tony, of course, is an archaeologist. They departed for the Sulu Sea several weeks ago on a joint expedition to try to find new evidence for a theory of migration of the early peoples in the Pacific." Hobart Zircon added, "We started on this theory some time ago with a trip to an island in the western Pacific. Dr. Briotti continued that work during the rice-terrace expedition. I believe you met him then." "I did," Colonel Rojas agreed. "How is the present expedition connected with your previous work? The combination of an archaeologist and a zoologist seems unusual." "Tony has determined that the origins of the Bajaus, the Sea Gypsies of Sulu, may be of importance," Hartson Brant explained. "In addition, he wanted to check some details of Bagobo culture. Dr. Shannon hoped to contribute some evidence based on the early migration of some animals from the Asia mainland to the islands." Colonel Rojas nodded. "I understand. The presence of some animals may show that a land bridge existed between Sulu and the mainland across which the early peoples may have migrated." "Exactly. I'm sure you also know that our staff has been co-operating with Dr. Remedios Okola of the University of the Philippines. It was from him we learned that our friends had vanished, when they failed to keep an important appointment." "You know their itinerary?" "Yes. They flew to Manila and spent a few days with Dr. Okola. At that time he persuaded them to revise their schedule, to return to Manila long enough to join him on a trip to the rice terraces. They flew to Zamboanga, chartered a boat of some sort, and sailed to Davao by way of Cotabato. They were supposed to leave the boat at Davao and fly back to Manila to take the trip with Okola, after which they would return to Davao, pick up the boat, and go into the Sulu Sea." The scientist's lips tightened, then he added, "They never kept the appointment with Okola!" "What did Okola do about it?" "He got in touch with the constabulary and asked for a check on their whereabouts, thinking they might have been delayed. The constabulary at Davao reported that Shannon and Briotti had reached Davao and hired a truck to take them to a Bagobo village. The truck driver let them off at a foot trail to the village. No one has seen them since." Rojas rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "You have heard from the American consulate at Manila?" "Yes, by phone, on the same day I talked with Okola. The consulate has asked your government for help. However, yesterday I received a cable stating that a second investigation has uncovered nothing new. It appears that both our governments have done all they can, but obviously we cannot stop there. So I have decided to send Dr. Zircon, with Rick and Scotty, to hunt for our friends." Rick and Scotty exchanged relieved glances. It was what they had hoped and expected. The colonel nodded. "I have not had the pleasure of meeting Dr. Zircon until now, but I have seen Rick and Scotty in action. They are resourceful, and they are lucky—two necessary qualities for a expedition such as this. Do you also plan to use their Hindu friend, Chahda?" Rick leaned forward anxiously. He had suggested getting Chahda to help out several days ago, but his father was at that time waiting for further word from the American consulate. Chahda, a one-time Bombay beggar boy, had been a close friend since the Tibet relay expedition. He was a real wizard at uncovering information. "Yes," Hartson Brant replied. "I have sent him a cable, through his organization, but he has not yet replied." Chahda was now a combination assistant and secretary to the chief Far East agent for JANIG, the secret government agency charged with the protection of United States top secrets. The Hindu boy's boss, Carl Bradley, was an old friend of Hartson Brant. Rick knew that Bradley would release Chahda at once, if assistance to Spindrift was involved, not only because of his friendship for the Brants, but because the island scientists had once helped to solve a case for the Far East agent. Chahda would be especially helpful in the search for the missing scientists, because he knew his way around the Philippines and had friends there. It occurred to Rick that his father had probably wired Chahda, in care of Bradley, via the Spindrift contact in JANIG—Special Agent Steve Ames. Colonel Rojas lighted a Manila cigar and settled back in his chair. "First of all, let us examine the area in which your friends have disappeared. Davao is on the island of Mindanao, the largest in the Philippines. It is peaceful, for the most part, even though we have a mixture of Moros, Christians, and pagans there." Rick knew about the Moros, Filipinos of the Moslem faith. They were known as valiant and deadly fighting men. The pagans were primitive people, like the Bagobos. "Davao is a large, fairly modern city. But once outside of the city itself, the country becomes wild. Some of the Bagobo villages are quite close to Davao. They are peaceful folk, and quite harmless, but there are savages in the back country who may not be." "Perhaps we should take arms," Zircon said. "I would say so. At least a rifle and a sidearm of some kind." Scotty spoke up. "I can take my rifle." "And I can borrow Hartson's forty-five automatic," Zircon added. "That should be enough." "True," the colonel agreed. "You can always call on the constabulary for help. I will give you letters to all commanding officers in the area." Rick knew that would open many doors, because Rojas was not only a former commandant of the constabulary, but popular with the entire force. "How about clothing, Colonel?" Rick asked. "I assume you will go by air. That means very little baggage. One tropical suit and the rest rough clothing would be my suggestion." Scotty changed the subject. "Sir, have you any idea what might have happened to our friends?" The officer shrugged. "No more than you have. Scientists generally are not rich enough to rob, but they are not so poor that they can be harmed with impunity. Robbery is always possible, although unlikely, with one exception. Did they have any weapons with them?" "Shannon had a hunting bow and arrows," Mr. Brant replied. "He planned to collect some specimens. Briotti had no weapon at all." "Then that eliminates the only robbery possibility I can think of. Had they been well armed, Moros might have attacked to get their weapons. The Moro loves weapons of all kinds, and may even kill to get them—a point you might remember." Rick shook his head. "It's hard to imagine why anyone would want to harm them—if anyone did. I think we'd better get to Mindanao as soon as possible. When do we leave, Dad?" "Tomorrow night, son. I made reservations for you while I was in New York this morning." "Are we going to take special equipment?" Scotty asked. Rick had been thinking about that very point. "I'm planning to take the Megabuck network. It will be useful if we have to separate." The little network of three miniature radio units, transmitters, and receivers combined, had been of invaluable help in rounding up a group of foreign agents bent on stealing the plans for a United States intercontinental ballistic missile. The unusual name, Megabuck, had grown out of a joke Rick had conceived about a "million bucks" television quiz program. Two of the sets were pocket size, and used hearing-aid-type earphones. The third had been made in the form of an ornamental hair band for Rick's sister Barby to wear. The tiny microphone worked by sound induction through the bones of the head. The earphone was incorporated into one end of the band. Zircon and Scotty agreed that the radio units might come in handy, and the physicist added, "I have a pocket-size, battery-operated wire recorder I use for making notes. I think I'll take that. It may be helpful for recording conversations for later translation." "A good idea," the colonel approved. "The local dialect is called Chebucano. Of course many people speak some English. Have you an atlas? I think it might be useful if we went over a map of Mindanao and the Sulu Sea area." The map study was very helpful. The three absorbed Colonel Rojas' fund of information about the area. It was a part of the world none of them had ever seen, located only a few degrees above the Equator in the deep tropics. To the west of Mindanao was the Sulu Sea, with the Celebes Sea to the south. The widely scattered centers of civilization had famous, imagination-stirring names, like Jolo, Tawi Tawi, Cotabato, and Zamboanga. Later, the Filipino officer dictated letters of introduction to Rick's sister Barby, a pretty blond girl a year younger than her brother. Barby took the dictation directly on the typewriter. Once the letters were signed and turned over to Dr. Zircon, Hartson Brant escorted the colonel to the mainland, where arrangements had been made for a local taxi service to drive him back to New York. Rojas' parting statement was "This affair worries me. I shall be most interested in developments, and you may hear from me sooner than you think." Later, Scotty and Rick gathered in the latter's room and talked while loading the radio units with fresh batteries. "Wonder how long it will take to hear from Chahda?" Rick asked. "Depends on where he is and how fast Steve Ames can get a message to him. He'll join us if he can. You can bet on it." "I hope so," Rick said thoughtfully. "We'll be in Manila in a couple of days, and we'll need him. We've got a job ahead of us, because Tony and Shannon aren't lost. You can be sure of that. They're not the kind to get lost. And if they had been in an accident of some kind we'd have heard." "Meaning what?" Rick's eyes met Scotty's. "That leaves only one logical answer, doesn't it? They've either been killed or captured!" CHAPTER II The Hindu Merchant Thirty-six hours later, after a grueling transcontinental—trans-Pacific flight with only the briefest of stops to change planes, Rick, Scotty, and Zircon were in Manila. Their stay in Manila only three hours old, they had already visited the American consulate and found that no new information on the missing scientists had been received; they had arranged a luncheon date with Dr. Okola, and had reserved space on Philippine Airlines to Davao on the following morning. Rick paced the floor, sipping a glass of fresh limeade, made with calamansi, the tiny, pungent local limes. His time for the past three days had been spent alternately dozing and thinking about the problem of the missing scientists. The more he wondered about their strange disappearance, the more worried he became. "There's simply no reason for it," he said aloud. Scotty looked up from the chair in which he was reading the Manila Times. The husky ex-Marine didn't have to be told what his pal was thinking. "No reason we can see," he agreed. "But there has to be a reason." Hobart Zircon spoke from the desk where he was writing a note to Hartson Brant. "You might remember, Rick, that we've been on other expeditions where the reason for certain events was just as puzzling." Rick knew the kind of events the physicist meant. Only a few dozen yards from this very room, in the ancient walled city across the street, he and Scotty had been under rifle fire for a reason they couldn't have guessed at the time. "Listen to this," Scotty said suddenly. He read from the newspaper. "'The American consulate reported today that three members of the Spindrift Foundation staff have arrived in Manila to begin a search for the American scientists reported missing a short time ago. The scientists disappeared north of Davao.' End of item." "That's short and to the point," Rick commented a little bitterly. "They certainly don't make much fuss over two missing Americans, do they?" "And it's on page seventeen," Scotty added. He folded the paper back to the front page. "Look at this headline." Across the top of the front page was emblazoned: WHERE IS ELPIDIO TORRES? "Who's he?" Rick asked. "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 the Rocky 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 the Philippines 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. "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 of Malaya, 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 in Singapore 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 will you. 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 talk to me when they not talk to you. So I go alone to Davao, on island of Mindanao. 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 in Davao. 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 Hindus is always ideas. Now, I go Davao 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 in Davao," 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 downtown Manila 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 Pasig River and into Manila proper. They inspected the Escolta, principal street in the shopping area, then headed for Quiapo Square 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. 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 saw a 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 in Manila are not genuine. They're Visayans from 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 By ten o'clock on the following morning Rick and his friends were jouncing along a twisting, bumpy road into the foothills of Mindanao. They had risen with the dawn and taken Philippines Airlines, PAL for short, to Davao. 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 the peak of Mount 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. 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 of Calinan, 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 abacá plantation, with mile after mile of lush green bananalike abacá plants extending into the foothills. "Look." Scotty pointed at drying racks on which Manila hemp fiber, product of the abacá, was drying. The fiber was a honey blond shade. "It's just the color of Barby's hair," Rick exclaimed. Major Lacson explained, "Abacá 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. 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 eerie hike, 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. "Shannon had 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 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 Bagobos 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 and smiled, his brown eyes on Rick's. The warrior shook Rick's hand and smiled 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 to Davao, 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. Rick wasn't sure, but he had an idea of how to start. Earlier, immediately on arrival, he had tried to contact Chahda without success. Now he got a Megabuck unit, put the earplug into place, and tried again. "Chahda, this is Rick. Are you on?" The Hindu boy answered at once, and the signal was loud. He probably was in the hotel. "Waiting, Rick. Where you been?" Rick quickly sketched the day's activities, and Chahda replied that he had spent time with his Indian contacts but had discovered nothing new. "Okay, Rick," Chahda concluded. "I try to find out why headman lies. Tomorrow I go to Bagobo village to sell tax-tills. Be back noon, meet you hotel." "I hope you find out more than we did," Rick said. Chahda urged, "Please not to worry. This good day's work. One man who lies maybe has keys to many doors!" CHAPTER IV The Headman's Secret On the following morning Major Paulo Lacson joined the Spindrifters for breakfast at the hotel. The young officer answered questions about the region for an hour, but Rick refrained from bringing up the subject of the headman until breakfast was over. But that was deferred when Scotty asked a startling question. "Major, what ever happened to the boat our friends came in?" Lacson's eyebrows went up. "Boat? What boat?" "You mean you didn't know they came by boat?" Zircon bellowed incredulously. The major shook his head. "This is the first I have heard of a boat. I assumed they came by air. The instructions I got from Manila were simply to find two missing Americans, with their names and descriptions. Since most Americans stay at this hotel I inquired and found they had checked out. That established their presence in Davao. It didn't occur to me to be interested in where they had come from, although I knew from my instructions that it was Zamboanga. Later, I checked the airline to see if they had left by air, but there was no record." It was incredible, but there it was. Rick knew it was the kind of slip that often happens when the background given with instructions is not complete. "I will get on this right away," Lacson said. "You have a description of the boat?" "I'm afraid not. It was chartered in Zamboanga. Can you get a description from there?" "Of course. It's strange the detail of the boat never came to light. Why, I even had a full description of their Moro guide." "Guide?" The three said it simultaneously. It was their turn to be astonished. No one had mentioned a third person in the party. "You didn't know?" Lacson clapped a hand to his forehead in a gesture of chagrin. "The lack of communications is ridiculous! Yes, they had a guide. Apparently they picked him up in Zamboanga. A young Moro, no outstanding features, who gave his name as Azid Hajullah. We have not been able to find out any more about him." Lacson rose, to get a message off about the boat, but Rick stopped him and quickly outlined his conclusion about the headman, and Chahda's trip to the Bagobo village. The major scratched his cheek thoughtfully. "It is just possible you are right," he said at last. "I myself noted that the old man was not at ease, but I attributed it to the presence of strange Americans, plus my own official status. Many primitive peoples are shy in the presence of authority. However, I agree the headman may have overdone it somewhat. We will see. I will phone you when I have news of the boat, and perhaps you will let me know when you hear from this Indian friend of yours." The morning dragged on after Lacson's departure. The three walked the streets of Davao and found it to be quite a modern city with two newspapers, a radio station, and some good stores. Both Rick and Scotty had the feeling that they were being watched, but the most careful observation failed to uncover a tail. Nevertheless, the boys were certain their movements were known to someone. If only they could discover the invisible watcher, Rick thought, and squeeze some information out of him.... The tropical sun grew hot as the day progressed, and the three returned to the hotel and sat in the small dining room over cold limeades and chilled mango. Rick had kept the Megabuck earphone in place all morning, and as he started to order another mango, Chahda's voice sounded in his ear. "Rick, you there?" "Here," he replied swiftly. "Go ahead." "Got recording. I think you plenty on ball, Rick. Headman lied like champ. Meet you hotel room right away. I just driving up. What number room?" Rick told the Hindu boy and signed off. He turned to the others. "Let's go. Chahda's got something!" They hurried to their room, and Zircon at once placed a call to Lacson. The constabulary office replied that the major was en route to the hotel and should be there in a few minutes. Chahda burst into their room. The Hindu boy was grinning from ear to ear. He took the tiny recorder from his pocket and handed it to Zircon. "Plenty hot, you bet. Can I have drink, please?" Scotty picked up the telephone and ordered him a double limeade with plenty of ice. "Much thanks, Scotty. Well, this morning at dawn we merchants go to Bagobo village. Sell plenty cloths, too. You know some Bagobos speak a little English? Not much, but enough. While I sell, I start asking questions, but I get no answer. Then, boy my age starts buying cloth for new turban. We alone, so I try bribe. I say, 'Tell me about missing Americans and I give cloth for free.' And you know, he starts!" "Go on, confound it!" Zircon bellowed. "Don't keep us in suspense like this." "Okay, Professor. I talk fast. This boy gets no chance to say something, because headman busts in and he shoots words at boy like machine gun. Boy no more will talk to me, but I give him cloth, anyway. Because all the time I have wire machine going!" "Wonderful!" Rick exclaimed. "Now, if we can only get it translated!" Scotty opened the door at a knock and admitted Major Lacson. Zircon introduced Chahda and explained quickly what had happened. He showed the officer the wire recorder. "Good!" Lacson picked up the telephone and made a call. After a brief exchange in the local dialect he hung up. "We will take it to Davao University. Dr. Gonzalez, the professor of languages, will translate it. He speaks Bagobo expertly. Come. My car is outside." Chahda hung back. "You go. Better I stay under cover while longer. You call me on radio when you find something." Rick agreed, then followed the others. They piled into Lacson's command car and headed for the university. "I have some news myself," Lacson reported. "Your friends came in a sloop called the Sampaguita, which is a local flower. They tied up at a private dock on the waterfront." "Where is the boat now?" Scotty asked. Lacson shrugged. "Who knows? No one saw it leave, but it was there the night your friends disappeared, and gone the following morning." Rick pondered that bit of information while Lacson and Zircon worked with Dr. Gonzalez, a short, bald Filipino, on the translation of the wire recording. Certainly Briotti and Shannon wouldn't have walked back from the Bagobo village and taken the boat themselves. And if they had walked to Calinan and obtained a car, Lacson would have found out about it. There weren't so many people in the area that the rental, or borrowing of a car, by two Americans couldn't be discovered easily. Had they hitched a ride Lacson would surely have found that out, too. Few cars traveled the road to Calinan. Rick took Lacson aside and questioned him while Zircon played the wire over and over again for the Filipino language expert. The major confirmed that he had checked, and was satisfied that the scientists had not obtained a ride back from Calinan from any of the local people. There were no cars to rent, either. Rick dropped the subject abruptly as Zircon and Gonzalez finished making notes and switched off the recorder. "Dr. Gonzalez has it," Zircon said with quiet triumph. "The language is difficult, and the headman was far from the microphone, but the sense of what is on the tape is clear." The boys and Lacson listened closely as the language professor read. "'Say nothing, young fool! It is forbidden to speak of the white men. One word that they were here and the wrath of'—I don't know one word here—'will fall on the whole village. Do you want to die? Do you want us all to die? I forbid you to speak on pain of death!'" "They were there!" Scotty exclaimed. "Now maybe we can find out what happened." "At once," Major Lacson added grimly. "Doctor, what does the missing word sound like?" The Filipino professor shook his head. "It is a word I've never heard, Major. It doesn't sound like a Bagobo word at all. It's 'shoon' or 'shawn.' Something like that. It's not clear." "Will you come with us to translate, Doctor? Juan speaks enough Bagobo to get by, but I'd rather have you for this trip. It may be difficult." "I'll be glad to. May I have a few moments to change clothing?" "Of course. I'll take these gentlemen to the hotel and they can change, too. We'll pick you up." Rick took advantage of the few moments in their hotel room to call Chahda. The Hindu boy answered at once. "The recording had the answer," Rick told him. "That was a good piece of work, Chahda. We're leaving for the village at once." "Good. Something I can do?" "Not right now. I'll call when we get back." Rick changed swiftly into khaki trail clothes. Their tropical suit trousers had been cleaned overnight and he didn't want to ruin his again. Outside, Lacson was waiting. Two other command cars had joined him, each one carrying six armed troopers. The three jumped in with the major and went past the university to pick up Dr. Gonzalez. The caravan broke all speed records getting to Calinan. Juan, the local trooper, got into the last car in line and they roared off to the road's end. This time the Spindrifters were dressed for the hike, and were well sprayed with protection against insects. Each had a hat, and a head net. The group traveled at good speed. Then, as they emerged from the jungle trail into the clearing that led to the village, a squad of four troopers, under Juan, broke off from the party and started away at a dogtrot to make a wide circle and approach the village from the opposite side. The rest walked straight ahead, at a slow pace that would give Juan's squad time to move into position. Rick's party reached the first house in the village and Major Lacson held up his hand. From the far side of the village came Juan's whistle blast. The major's hand dropped. Troopers with rifles charged into the Bagobo village, scattering among the houses. Lacson drew his pistol and marched straight to the headman's house. The headman walked to meet them, and his face stiffened as he saw the pistol. He spoke rapidly. Gonzalez translated. "He wants to know why you come with a weapon pointed at him, and why your men raid his houses." "Tell him we come as enemies because he lied. The Americans were here. My men search for evidence." The Filipino professor translated, and the headman made an expressive gesture with his hands. He sat down on a seat made of a split tanguile log and stared straight ahead, obviously intending to maintain a stony silence. A trooper ran up, waving a tubular object which he handed to the major. Rick saw that it was a high-powered telescope, like one Shannon had owned. His pulse quickened as Scotty removed the protective lens caps and examined the object. "Shannon's," Scotty stated. "His initials are stamped on the side, and on the front lens cap." The headman seemed to wilt. Another trooper ran up, and he carried a leather quiver that Rick recognized instantly. It also was Shannon's. He knew it well, from their field archery games. In the quiver was the bow, a takedown model, and three dozen arrows. "Major, what are we going to do?" For reply, the officer planted himself in front of the headman, his voice harsh. "Tell him, Professor Gonzalez, that we have evidence enough. Unless he has a good explanation, we must believe that his village murdered the Americans. For this, some of his people may pay with their lives." Dr. Gonzalez translated into Bagobo. For long minutes the headman sat quietly, then he rose to his full height and looked the officer in the eye. "I am caught between a knife and a spear," Dr. Gonzalez translated. "There is death either way. It is true, the Americans came. We made them welcome. For one evening they stayed. We gave them and their Moro a house to sleep in. Then, after it was dark and we slept, men came. The Americans and the Moro fought, but the men tied them up and carried them away. Then the men said that if one person in my village spoke of this, all would die. The two things we found were not taken because they were in a corner of the hut and were not seen. All else was removed." "Ask him who the men were and why he didn't fight for the Americans," Lacson directed. The Filipino language expert posed the question, then translated the reply. "He does not know the men, or their names. He did not fight because it was useless. His people would have died and the Americans would not have been saved." "Ask him how he knows this." The Bagobo's reply was terse. "He knows," Gonzalez said. "He will say no more." Lacson made a sound of disgust. "He means it, too. Look at him." Rick saw what Lacson meant. The stern face and glittering eyes indicated clearly that the headman would die before he said more about the attackers. "Does he know where the Americans were taken?" Zircon asked. "He does not know. Th...