The Golden Skull: A Rick Brant Science-Adventure Story

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.