The Golden Skull Part 10

The pilot grinned. "None to make. No hangars, no service except gas.

Just stake it down and lock the door. It will be all right."

It had to be all right. There was nothing else to do. The Spindrifters took the earth scanner and their personal luggage, then locked the plane, leaving the alarm activated. As an afterthought, Rick left a duplicate key with the Filipino field official. Someone might touch it casually and set the alarm off, and it would sound until the door was unlocked and relocked again with the key. He explained how it worked and then joined the pilot and his friends in the official air-line car.

The pilot dropped them at Muller's, a combination boardinghouse and old-fas.h.i.+oned inn. They checked in, then climbed a nearby hill for a view of Baguio.

As far as the eye could see, there were mountains. Steep ridges and deep clefts made a picturesque jumble of the landscape. Beyond, over the ridge, was the Trinidad Valley, a farm garden area where the American colony of the Philippines got most of its temperate zone vegetables and fruit. On the other side of town was the Golden Bowl of Benguet, where fabulous gold mines were worked by Igorot miners clad only in breechcloths and hard-rock helmets.

Baguio itself was a modern city in most respects. But the population--a strange mixture of Christian Filipinos and primitive, pagan Igorots--was unusual. The Filipinos wore typical Western dress, and actually dressed pretty warmly. The Igorot men wore the breechcloth, perhaps with a s.h.i.+rt or sweater, perhaps with nothing at all. Most of the men had tiny pillbox caps of woven straw on the backs of their heads. The little round boxes were decorated with such oddments as boar's tusks and c.o.ke bottle caps. The Igorot women wore a tight-fitting skirt of colorful wool, usually patterned in red or yellow. They wore blouses of embroidered white cotton, or jackets of colored wool. Their skirts had b.a.l.l.s of yarn on the hips. The women wore no hats. Both s.e.xes were usually barefoot.

There were contrasts. For example, next to a great Christian cathedral was the Igorot dog market. The Igorots were eaters of dog meat.

But it was not the Igorots or the mountains that had made Baguio famous and turned it into the summer capital of the Philippines--it was the climate. While Manila burned in the tropical sun, Baguio, thousands of feet higher, had cool, fall-like weather. There was hardly a night during the year when blankets were not comfortable. Even the foliage was temperate rather than tropical. Baguio had pine trees, a welcome sight to the Spindrift trio.

There was a tall, fragrant pine just outside the window of the room shared by Rick and Scotty. When the boys returned to their rooms to wash up for an early dinner, Rick leaned out and broke off a pine cone. Then, by reaching only a bit further, he grabbed a cl.u.s.ter of purple-red blossoms from a bougainvillea vine that had climbed the tree to their second-floor height.

In the comfortable dining room, they chose a table in front of a roaring fireplace, glad of the warmth. It was chilly in Baguio. While they waited to be served, Rick mentioned the pine tree to Tony and commented that it was odd that a tree should be left so close to a building.

"The forest practices of the Igorots and Ifugaos could well be copied by us," Tony told the boys. "Anyone who cuts down a tree for anything other than genuine use is severely punished. In the old days the punishment might have been loss of his head. That's how much respect they have for their water supply, which is dependent directly on their forests."

"You talk as though these were civilized people," Scotty commented.

Tony grinned. "Depends on what you call civilization. But they have a very highly developed and complex culture. They have a history, too, which they know better than we know ours. For instance, an Ifugao can recite his ancestry as far back as twenty-five generations. Can you?"

"Not sure I'd want to," Scotty retorted. "Might be a few horse thieves along the way. Seriously, I see what you mean."

"Their priests must know all about fifteen hundred different G.o.ds and all the legends and taboos connected with each. No written books to consult, either. All must be memorized."

"That certainly proves that they have good memories," Rick said. "I'm not sure what else it proves."

"Wait until you see the rice terraces. Now let's order dinner. This cool air has whetted my appet.i.te like a razor's edge."

After a delicious meal of broiled steak, fresh vegetables from Trinidad Valley, and the huge strawberries for which the valley is famous, the three lingered over coffee and Tony recited more details of the Igorot and Ifugao way of life, so different from their own. In the midst of the recital Angel Manotok arrived.

"Good trip?" Rick asked.

"Yes. No trouble. The truck is a beauty. What do you want me to do now?"

Rick handed him the keys to their room. "You're pretty dusty. Wash up, eat, then go to the airport. You'll find a spare bedroll in the crate you carried by yourself back at the Manila Hotel. Keep an eye on the plane, and we'll join you at breakfast time."

Although there was no reason to suspect that anyone would harm the plane, none of them felt comfortable about leaving it unguarded. They were sure it would be safe during the daylight hours, but darkness afforded an opportunity for sabotage.

Angel took the keys and went on his way. In a short time he returned, gave the keys back to Rick, and said, "I'll get supper at a Filipino place. See you in the morning."

"Businesslike," Tony said approvingly. "No waste words or motion. I think we were lucky to get him."

The boys agreed. "Wonder how he and Nast got along?" Rick queried. "I forgot to ask him."

"He probably dropped off Nast and his silks before he came here," Scotty commented.

At Tony's suggestion they walked around town, taking in the interesting marketplace, the several cathedrals, the summer palace of the Philippines president, and the parks. Baguio was different--and very peaceful and pleasant. As they walked, they discussed their plans for the next day.

Rick and Tony were to fly to Bontoc, which was still in Igorot country, then cross the mountain to Banaue, which was the objective of the trip, land of the Ifugaos and home of the fabled rice terraces. It was to be a non-stop trip, mostly to familiarize Rick with the terrain. At the same time, Scotty and Angel were to go by truck to Bontoc, several hours'

drive to the north. They would remain overnight. If Scotty could arrange a landing place for the Sky Wagon, he would phone Rick at Muller's. Then Rick and Tony would fly up the next morning. Scotty was a pilot himself, so he knew the requirements for a good landing strip.

If no suitable landing place were available, Rick and Tony would hire a jeep and drive to Bontoc. Jeeps were common in the Philippines, since they were ideal vehicles for the back country. Hiring one would present no problems.

With no landing place available, the Sky Wagon would not come into use until the expedition found artifacts of value. Then Rick would return to Baguio, get the plane, pick up the discoveries by cable, and deliver the stuff to Okola in Manila for safekeeping and preliminary examination.

The exercise and the cool freshness of the air made them sleepy, and presently, by mutual consent, they returned to Muller's.

"Might as well get to bed early," Tony said. "Then we can be up at dawn and get off to an early start. Good night, boys."

The boys bade him good night and went to their own room, a few doors down the hall. Scotty unlocked the door and swung it open, then let out a yell of joy. Chahda was sprawled on one of the beds, reading a magazine!

The Hindu boy was dressed in Western clothes, slacks and a sports jacket.

He looked up as the door opened. "Hi," he said casually. "Nice walk?"

It was as though they had left him reading while they went for a stroll.

Chahda's casualness was too much for Rick and Scotty. They dove for him, hauled him out of the bed, and pummeled him with sheer delight. Finally Chahda yelled for mercy.

"I give in! Plenty okay! I glad to see you, too. Please do not break leg, may need it."

"You no-good swami," Scotty said. "What's the idea of playing Sikh?"

The boys sat down on the bed opposite Chahda.

"Talk," Rick commanded. "What kind of gag is this?"

"Best way to learn about people is to be one of them," Chahda said with dignity. "I have been Filipino and Sikh. Now I become Igorot. First I learned about this new country from Alm-in-ack. Says this largest group in Malay Archipelago. What is archipelago, please?"

Rick saw the twinkle in Chahda's eye and knew that their friend was following his usual custom of teasing them. "Archy Pelago is the black sheep of the Pelago family," he said. "Archy first fell from grace when he got into a fight with neighbors. It was a real melee. Hence his nickname. Melee Archy Pelago...."

A pillow caught him in the face, smothering his words. Scotty pushed him over on the bed and sat on him.

"Come on, Chahda. I'm so curious I could spring a seam. What's going on?"

Rick squirmed, got nowhere, and finally sank his teeth into Scotty hard enough to get results. Scotty let out a yell that could have been heard in Singapore.

Tony Briotti pounded on the door and called, "How do you expect the paying guests to sleep with that racket going on?"

The boys let him in and introduced Chahda. Tony shook hands with the Hindu boy. "I was beginning to believe you were a figment of the well-known Spindrift imagination. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise am honored to meet brilliant young scientist," Chahda said politely. "My worthless friends tell me they even call you by nickname, while other scientists are called by t.i.tle. This is mark of high esteem, I think. Glad to meet you, _Sahib_ Tony."

"Chahda was just going to give us the low-down," Rick said.