Rick Brant - The Caves of Fear Part 14

The clerk was on the verge of a stroke. "You couldn't treat your own back," he almost screamed. "Impossible! How could you?"

"He turned around so he could see what he was doing," Scotty said. "Good night, all." He shepherded them through the door and closed it.

For a moment there was excited conversation from outside, then the clerk, the policemen, and the coolies retreated down the hall.

"They'll be back," Zircon said wearily, "but not before morning, I hope."

Rick looked at Scotty. "He turned around so he could see what he was doing," he repeated. "My sainted aunt!"

"Sewed up his own back," Scotty gibed. "Professor! You told that nice man a fib!"

"Great big juicy fib," Zircon said gravely. "Do I wash out my mouth with soap or do I get a medal?"

"Medal," the boys said, and laughed heartily.

"Whatever got into you?" Rick asked the scientist.

Zircon stripped off his coat and rolled up his sleeve. "He was so pompous and so serious that I just couldn't resist. Besides, if I had been serious, we never would have gotten rid of them. Here, Rick. I'll need antiseptic and a gauze compress for this."

The boys looked at the wound. As Zircon had said, it was trivial. The slug had made a neat furrow across the surface of the skin, just deep enough to cause a good flow of blood. The wound already was clotting.

As Rick bandaged the scientist's brawny arm, Zircon said, "I recoiled instinctively when Bradley yelled. But not far enough. One slug just nicked me. But those heavy caliber weapons, like our service .45, will knock a man down anywhere they hit him. This one spun me around and I piled into you two. I think that is what saved us all."

"I didn't know what was happening," Rick said.

"Neither did I," Scotty agreed. "I've seen Schmeissers before, but I've never heard one fired until now."

"And let us hope we don't have to hear it again," Zircon added. When Rick finished bandaging his arm, the professor went to a suitcase and opened it, drawing out a folded map. "I'm curious about Korse Lenken,"

he said. "It's a new name to me. This map covers China and a part of Tibet. We may find it."

After a long search, Scotty whistled. "Here it is. And look where it is!"

Korse Lenken was a tiny dot in the vastness of the mountains just beyond the Chinese border at about 95 east longitude and 32 north lat.i.tude.

No other town was noted on the map in the area, but high mountains were, and so were rivers. And Chahda was there, alone! At least Bradley had not mentioned any companion who traveled with the Hindu boy.

"We'll need to outfit completely," Zircon said. "Food, warm clothing, sleeping bags, and all the rest. And we'll need a rifle for Rick. We can get American rifles here. Also, I think we had better put in a small supply of ammunition beyond what we brought."

For a short while they speculated on the trip, and on the many things Bradley had left unsaid. It was unfortunate that they couldn't have had a few moments longer. But Rick could see that his presence in the room would have needed explaining, since he hadn't traveled up on the elevator. It was better for him to disappear.

Before getting into bed, they went to the door and opened it. Across the hall, Long Shadow's burp gun had made a fine mess. Plaster hung in patches and the laths behind were broken and splintered. Fortunately, the room opposite was a storage closet, so no one else had been in the line of fire. Rick looked at the dozens of holes and shook his head.

"If we'd been right in the doorway," he said, "we would now be so full of holes they could use us for mosquito netting--if the holes weren't so big." He looked at the other two and added, "I'm beginning to think Long Shadow doesn't like us."

CHAPTER IX

The Trail to Korse Lenken

Sing Lam-chiong dug heels into the flanks of his mule and trotted back to where Zircon, Scotty, and Rick were jogging along on their respective mounts.

"Good place to make lunch, in about ten minutes."

"Fine, Sing," Zircon said. "We could use lunch." The scientist looked down with distaste at his horse, a big hammerheaded black with the lines of a plow beast. "This creature is about as comfortable as a wooden sled."

Rick sympathized. His own nag, a pin-eared Chinese pony of a peculiar mouse-gray color, had no particular gait. He just waddled along, swaying from side to side and making his rider saddle sore.

Sing saluted and went back to the head of the column, which was made up of pack mules, each led by a Chinese bearer. There were four of the pack animals, each laden with the party's gear.

"He certainly knows this trail," Scotty commented.

"A good thing," Rick said. "The camping places are few and far between.

I wish Korse Lenken were nearer."

The party was ten days out of Hong Kong, high in the mountain ranges that formed the backbone of south Asia. Since leaving the more civilized part of China they had trekked through alternate valleys and mountain pa.s.ses, making good time in the valleys, but slowing to a snail's pace in the mountains. Sometimes the trail was wide enough for the three of them to ride abreast. Sometimes it clung to the mountainside with scarcely room for a single horse or mule. But Sing, leading the way, had a knack of picking the easiest route.

The Chinese guide was a gift from heaven. The Spindrifters had checked in at the American Consulate at Chungking, as Bradley had instructed them, and the consul had offered the loan of one of his own staff. Sing, normally a clerk at the consulate, had been born and brought up in the western reaches of outer Sinkiang Province, and he knew the area from wide travels with his father, a Chinese border police officer. Although he had never been to Korse Lenken, he had been close to it.

In a short while Sing called out in Chinese to the bearers and they followed him into a sort of pocket in the mountainside. Scotty, who was slightly ahead of Rick and Zircon, turned. "We've got company for lunch.

There's another party already here."

In a moment the three Americans were greeting a portly Chinese who rose to greet them.

"Howdy, Mr. Ko," Rick said cordially. "We were wondering when we would catch up with you again."

Worthington Ko smiled and bowed. "We will doubtless meet many times until our paths separate. Please dismount and join me. My bearers have a good cooking fire you are welcome to use."

Ko was a textile merchant they had overtaken on the trail a short distance out of Chungking. Since then the two parties had pa.s.sed and repa.s.sed each other several times. Ko had three mules, in addition to the one he rode, and two bearers. The mules carried only light packs. On the return trip, he had told them, they would be laden with Tibetan textiles. He was heading for the famous monastery of Rangan Lo to buy embroidery from the Buddhist monks. Eventually, the embroidery would find a market in Europe.

The three Spindrifters got down stiffly from their horses and found seats among the rocks next to the merchant. He smiled sympathetically.

"You are stiff? These trails are very poor and one must travel them many times before one gets used to them." He took off his thick, horn-rimmed gla.s.ses and polished them on a sc.r.a.p of silk. "After twenty years of it, I still find myself bent with weariness at the end of the day."

Sing busied himself with getting food ready. The Spindrift bearers unpacked utensils and their own rations of rice and dried meat.

Ko rose from his rocky seat and rearranged the long, flowing silk coat he wore. "I must be off. With your permission, I will proceed slowly, however, so that you will overtake me before nightfall."

"Of course," Zircon said. "But may I ask why?"

Ko's nearsighted eyes peered at the rifles carried in saddle sheaths on each of the three horses, and at Sing's shotgun. "I hope to take advantage of your weapons," he explained. "By nightfall we should reach Llhan Huang, which is a sort of crossroad. It marks the start of the Lenken country. The Lenkens are unlikely to attack a well-armed party of eight. But they delight in robbing a small party such as mine. For that reason, I usually manage to find a larger group to which to attach myself when entering the Llhan region." He smiled. "The armament you carry for hunting bharals will serve admirably to keep the Lenkens at a distance."

The Spindrift party had been warned that the tribe known as Lenkens were dangerous to travelers.

"We'll be delighted to have you join us," Zircon a.s.sured him.

Rick was about to suggest that the portly Chinese merchant wait until after the Spindrifters had eaten so they could all travel together, but he thought better of it. Ko had been cordial, but he had shown little interest in the American "hunting" party and Rick thought he probably preferred to travel at his own speed and in his own way.