The Golden Skull Part 25

He turned on his heel and walked back to the waiting Ifugao warriors.

Several men detached themselves from the group and followed as he led the way across the terrace toward the village.

Rick breathed freely for the first time. "Tony, I think he's going for it!"

"I certainly hope so," the scientist said with relief. "But regardless of how the decision goes, the artifacts must be collected. Let's get some work done."

How to get the dragon away from the underground crypt was solved with the truck winch. The cable was pa.s.sed around the pedestal and the whole business hauled forward. Then Rick, Scotty, Angel, and Chahda began to dig while Tony examined each inch of progress for signs that the crypt was being reached.

A whistle came from outside. Dog Meat beckoned. The party stopped digging and hurried out in time to see a station wagon come to a halt on the road above the village. Six men got out and were met by an elderly Ifugao. But before they were ushered to the village they took time to stare at the Spindrift expedition.

The Spindrift group stared back with a combination of fear, disappointment, and disgust. Four of the men were strangers. One was an American--James Nast. The sixth was the a.s.sistant Secretary of the Interior!

CHAPTER XVI

Flying Spears

"Just like the old saying," Rick observed. "Birds of a feather flock together. A crooked Filipino, a crooked American, and a crazy Ifugao are now in conference. And what is the conference about?"

"They talk about who wins next World Series," Chahda suggested brightly.

Scotty scoffed at the idea. "They aren't sports lovers, Chahda. They are gentlemen of culture. I think the conference is about motion pictures.

My idea is that Lazada and Nast are visiting Nangolat in order to get an Ifugao opinion on whether the hero should be allowed to kiss his horse in western pictures."

Tony Briotti leaned on his shovel. "I can't see how you can be so wrong when the evidence is so clear. Isn't Lazada the a.s.sistant Secretary of the Interior? Isn't this the Interior? I think the Ifugao terraces are about to be converted to a national park, under the Department of the Interior. The a.s.sistant Secretary is here to discuss the hot-dog concession with a local bigwig. Of course he has his American hot-dog expert with him. It's as simple as that."

Scotty checked his rifle carefully, sighting down the barrel to make sure it was mirror clean. "They could also be talking about building a new swimming pool for Ifugao boys and girls, but somehow I doubt it.

What say we not worry about what they're saying to each other, and worry instead about digging?"

"Right as usual," Tony said. "Let's keep at it, and perhaps we'll come up with something worth talking about."

They had made a good start. Now, working two by two, they excavated until the shovels rang from stone. Sc.r.a.ping disclosed a flat stone that probably was a lid of some kind. They resumed digging until the stone was completely exposed, then tried to lift it.

"Weighs a ton," Rick grunted. "Did it move at all?"

"Not that I could see," Tony said. "Let's dig down around the edges more and see if the stone is anch.o.r.ed."

Further digging showed that the stone was not anch.o.r.ed. It probably had been set in some kind of primitive mortar which would have to be broken before the stone could be lifted. A crowbar from the truck supplied leverage and in a moment the stone was free. Willing hands found holds, lifted it free, and slid it to the back of the recess. Where the stone had been there now yawned a circular opening about the size of a manhole.

Tony Briotti was beside himself with excitement. He ran to the truck, rummaged in the supplies, and produced a flashlight. Then he ran back to the hole and directed the beam downward.

The boys crowded around to look. Rick exclaimed in disappointment. The hole was about eight feet deep and about four feet in diameter. The walls were coated with green slime and on the bottom there was a mixed coating of mud and slime and nothing else.

"False alarm," he said sadly.

Tony paid no attention. He went to the truck again, and from his own crate of supplies he produced rope and two galvanized steel buckets. He also found boots and rubber gloves, a small hand shovel, and an ordinary garden hand tool with three p.r.o.ngs. These tools he thrust into his belt.

"I'm going down," he announced.

Rick realized that Tony was not taking for granted the apparent emptiness of the hole. He realized, too, that Tony knew much more about such caches than he. "Okay," he said. "Angel, keep a watch. We don't want to get caught by surprise while Tony is digging."

"I've been watching," Angel said. "And we're also being watched by Ifugaos, on the terraces above the village."

Chahda looked into the hole doubtfully. "How you get in and out, Tony?

No ladder."

"The rope," Tony said. "You'll have to lower me, or hold the rope so I can climb down."

"We'll lower you," Scotty said. He took the rope and made a loop for Tony's foot, then directed the archaeologist to sit on the edge of the hole. Tony did so, putting his foot through the loop. Then Rick, Scotty, and Chahda payed out rope while the scientist let himself slide from the edge into the hole. In a moment the rope went slack. He was on the bottom.

Rick watched while Tony drove his hunting knife into the wall of the hole and hung his flashlight on it, the beam shooting downward. Then Tony took his shovel from his belt and probed the soft earth carefully.

It was so soft that his boots sank in up to the ankles.

Presently Tony called, "Something here. Get a bucket." He worked with the shovel and unearthed a small, mud-covered object, then another, then a whole series of them.

Scotty tied a bucket to the rope and lowered it. Tony put the muddy collection in it and Scotty drew it up.

"Send the rope back for me," Tony called.

The three boys helped to pull him up. He immediately sat down on the ground with the bucket between his legs and started to clean his findings.

"Rick," he requested, "get me the bag of cloths and brushes from my case, please?"

Rick did so. Tony removed most of the mud by wiping it off with his gloves. Then brushes and cloths completed the job. He held up a human jawbone, inlaid with gold. His eyes sparkled. "Typical, except for the gold. The human jawbone is a common Ifugao relic. In fact, they suspend their musical instruments from human jawbones." He put it down carefully and started to work on the next object. It turned out to be a pipe, again typical Ifugao work except for the fact that it was of gold.

Rick examined it. He had seen pipes something like it before, but made of clay. "I thought tobacco was an American product," he observed. "How come these primitive Asiatics had it?"

"Asia used tobacco long before the Indians introduced it to Europeans,"

Tony replied. "But it's curious that the pipe forms should be so similar. That pipe was made by a process we now use in America for very delicate castings. It is called the 'lost wax' process."

"Funny name," Chahda said, interested.

"Yes, until you know about the process. The Ifugao makes the pipe he wants out of wax, then coats it with clay, leaving a hole in the clay.

Then he puts the clay in the fire. The clay hardens, but the wax melts and runs out. The Ifugao, then, has a mold exactly like the pipe he made of wax. He melts the metal he chooses--gold, in this case--and pours it into the clay mold. When the metal cools, he breaks off the mold, and there is his pipe."

"Lost wax," Scotty said. "You're right. It fits."

At that moment Angel Manotok came into the recess. "I've been listening.

Don't think I'm presuming, please, but could we work faster? Perhaps talk about it later?"

Angel was right, of course. Tony said, "I shouldn't have taken the time to clean those things. We'll collect them mud and all." He went back into the hole and worked rapidly, filling the buckets as fast as the boys could haul them up.

Rick thought that the crypt probably was dry when the objects were first placed in it. But the water used to irrigate the rice terraces had seeped through between the carefully selected stones that lined the pit, bringing fine particles of dirt and gradually building up a reservoir of mud in the bottom. Most of the water seeped in and seeped out again, but the particles of soil remained.

Tony suddenly gave a cry. "I think I have it!" He braced an object on his knee and wiped it. "It is! And by its weight, it's thick-walled but hollow! What a find! Boys, this is wonderful! Tremendous!"