The Golden Skull: A Rick Brant Science-Adventure Story

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.

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!

CHAPTER XI

Warriors Three

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."

CHAPTER XII

The Ifugao Village

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 are tinaklings, 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 a thunk as 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.